And the result of the coin toss is

Previously: Deciding a wedding on a coin toss

____________________________________________________________

 

I know you’ve all been eagerly awaiting news of the infamous coin toss, probably the most absurd coin toss in the history of coin tosses.

I would have kept everyone in suspense a bit longer (only because I’m lazy to blog about it right away), but stupid Piers scooped me by posting the result on Dayre IMMEDIATELY after the coin toss, which was just before we went to bed, so I had to wake up extra early this morning to write this piece before the news becomes too stale.

I always knew having a blogger partner was bad news!

 

Suspense

 

Alright, alright, I will for once skip being long-winded and come straight to the point.

The result is: No wedding for us.

We tossed the coin 11 times. I originally suggested doing “Best of 10” because one toss felt too flippant and flukish. And, sure enough, 10 tosses ended up in a tie, so we had to do a tie-breaker toss. And the tie-breaker said no.

That was it.

 

NO!

 

So, both Piers and I went to bed rather sad.

I know. You are now going to say, “If you’re sad, that means you want the wedding, so JUST DO IT FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.”

But if the last coin had landed the other way, we would have gone to bed stressed and afraid. Either way, it was going to be bad news.

I know that sounds very ridiculous. This whole thing is ridiculous. But life is unfair and ridiculous.

So, I guess the decision has been made for us. What do you think?

Deciding a wedding on a coin toss

First, allow me to admit that I’m an awful decision-maker. I’m quite possibly the worst decision-maker in the whole world, and that is no casual boast.

For example, I will totally forgo having a meal if I can’t decide what to eat, because copping out is just easier. I could write a whole post about this affliction of mine but I can’t decide whether I should.

Well, let’s just say that a long history of bad decisions on my part has led to crippling fear and inability in the area.

 

Indecision

 

So, this wedding thing has plagued me for two months now. Piers and I were married quietly in Singapore on 7 October 2013. We planned to have a wedding in England on 14 June 2014. I planned to start planning the wedding once I returned to England on 21 November 2013.

Every day I sat down and did research and thought about what I wanted for my wedding: dress, invitation cards, cake, type of food, etc. After a month of doing this, a great mounting fear overwhelmed me. I was never going to get anything done because I couldn’t decide on literally ANYTHING.

I couldn’t decide which invitation card design to pick. I couldn’t decide what type of necklace to wear. I couldn’t decide whether to have champagne at the ceremony or later. I couldn’t decide what bloody time to start the wedding.

 

Pick Me! Pick Me! Pick Me!

 

Piers, seeing how stressed I was, said, “We don’t have to have the wedding, you know. There’s no point spending loads of money on it if we’re gonna be all stressed and not enjoy it.”

So I started giving that option serious thought.

Every day for a month, I thought about it. I discussed it with Piers, with my friends, with his parents. Everyone gave a lot of suggestions and ideas. They helped, and they didn’t. Because, in the end, WE still had to decide stuff ourselves.

One moment I was convinced I wanted it, the next I was convinced I didn’t. Every day, I got more and more stressed that the deadline was looming and everything’s going to be fully booked by the time I decide I want it.

 

Do what you want

 

We drew up a pros and cons list and assigned scores to every item on the list. The cons ended up with double the points. Pro: 400, Cons: 825.

The main pro is that it’s our once in a lifetime special day to share with family and friends, and mine are flying all the way to England for that.

The main cons are stress and cost. Even the most basic celebration would cost £8,000. (An average wedding in England costs £20,000.) We find it hard to justify spending any money on a wedding when we are in fact already married, plus we’re also planning to buy a new house and move out at the same time.

Still, even with the scores so clear cut, it was very hard to just say no and scrap the whole thing. And Piers refused to make any final decision because he said weddings are a girl thing so I should have the last say. (He’s as good as I at copping out.)

 

Weddings are a girl thing

 

Then, a week ago, I told myself, “Enough of this tomfoolery! I MUST DECIDE BY TOMORROW.”

To my credit, tomorrow came and I decided yes, we must do it because I don’t want to regret not ever doing it!

When Piers got home, I told him, “Yeah, by the way, I’ve decided we should do the wedding.”

His response was totally unexpected. He said, “WHAT? When did you decide?!”

“This afternoon!” I said.

“What! Why didn’t you tell me!”

“I’m telling you now!”

“Oh no, now I’m stressed!”

Then he started going through all the cons again (which did have higher marks).

I rolled my eyes and said, “Okay, let’s NOT do the wedding. I’m so cool with that.”

He said, “No! We can’t!”

“WTF.”

Long story short, it turns out he’s so undecided himself he can’t even accept a decision from me no matter which option I pick. And he also succeeded in making me unmake my decision so I felt fickle all over again.

Do we deserve a Guinness Award for the most indecisive couple ever, or what.

 

Guinness Award for Most Indecisive Couple

 

He wanted more time to think about it, so I gave him time. Days passed. We didn’t make any serious effort at deciding because it was just too difficult. We gave ourselves a deadline for decision. The deadline came and went and no decision was made.

The day after the deadline, when I pressed him, he told me I needed to give my answer first, then he’ll decide whether to go along.

I told him that I had decided first the last time, so it’s his time to decide first, now.

He said, “Seriously, I’m more or less 50-50 on it.”

I said, “Well, me too!”

Then, he said, “Let’s toss a coin tonight. It’s the only way we can ever decide.”

I said, “Okay.”

And that was how we ended up deciding that the best way to decide whether to have a wedding or not is to toss a coin.

To be continued (after coin toss)…

This year, I’m making a wish

I always get melancholically introspective on New Year’s Eve. This year is no different.

Some years I’m out partying my head off, getting drunk during the big countdown. Other years I’m at home sullenly watching some new year countdown show or other, sullen not because I’m home on New Year’s Eve but because I hate countdown shows.

I am always forced to watch the blasted shows because someone or other at home will feel that it’s every human being’s sworn duty to watch the countdown show for no better reason than “What? It’s the COUNTDOWN show!” and therefore will have the TV tuned to the right channel even before the show starts.

I don’t like those shows because they are always the same every year. Crowds, fireworks, inane chatter, too much screaming, and nothing is remotely entertaining in the artistic sense and I can’t see my life or brain being bettered by them.

 

 

Ok I don’t want to spoil the mood by ranting about TV shows so I shall go back to talking about this melancholic introspectovirus I catch every year end. And I’ll tell you what I’m introspecting today.

Like I’ve mentioned again and again, I am of the belief that New Year’s Day is just another day similar to any other day in that the sun rises and then sets, but attached profound significance because of a sequence of numbers and the genius of capitalists.

In other words, it’s overhyped.

Therefore, I feel resentful of society’s insistence on having me take stock of my life this time of the year, making new resolutions and all that crap. Because, I DO feel the need to do such a thing every year and it annoys me how illogical and pressurising it is. And it’s also a useless endeavour because hardly anyone I know ever keeps their resolutions, unless they’re clever and make resolutions such as get more massages or eat more chocolate.

So I get all melancholic because I’m taking stock while being annoyed at myself for doing it and getting stressed, and resenting the deadline. Then the new year comes and I’m, like, NOOOOOO I’m not ready! I haven’t finished doing last year’s laundry!

 

 

The new year comes, anyway, regardless of my feelings about the matter and we continue to bumble on as we’ve always done before the big countdown, and it doesn’t matter whether you’d spent it drunk at a pub or sullen at home watching the countdown show, because nothing changes.

Nevertheless, I do have a list of new year’s resolutions in my head which I made a lifetime ago and have struggled to follow through the year and will continue to struggle to follow till the end of my time.

Because, while I don’t believe in the possibility of change at the turn of a clock, I believe in evolution. Not in the Big Bang sense, but in the sense that things do change, slowly and gradually, much like how your chilli plant dies a slow, silent death if you forget to feed it some water. (I’m sorry, Mr Chilli.)

 

 

So, my resolutions list can be summarised as follows: Strive to be a good person and live life as meaningfully and fully as possible.

It’s very difficult to be a good person. Someone who’s kind, empathetic, non-judgemental, believes in the good of the world and delights in bringing happiness to others.

Other people make it difficult for me to be nice. Countdown shows make it difficult. The weather makes it difficult. Bills make it difficult. There’s always something in the way. But I always try and try because that’s my perennial wish for the world. That everyone tries, too.

Facebook can now read your mind

So, I’ve decided to come out of my unexplained month-long solitary confinement because A) It’s about bloody time, and B) I just had to share this story.

Remember that I have, on several occasions, remarked on Facebook’s sneaky monitoring of my Internet activities and then feeding me relevant ads?

And not doing a very good job of it, I might add, like when it started showing me ads for eyelash curlers immediately after I bought one online? I don’t need to look at eyelash curlers anymore after I’ve bought one. I’m not interested! Or, like, showing me loads of ads targeted at teachers when my occupation is clearly listed as blogger?

 

Sheylara
Me with curled eyelashes, courtesy of an eyelash curler.

 

Well, I’m thinking that Facebook must have taken my complaints to heart because it has recently improved its stalking skills, not to mention telepathic ones.

That’s right. Facebook can now read your mind.

Even when you’re not on the Internet.

And here’s the proof.

Last night, Piers and I went to Sainsbury’s to buy breakfast stuff for the weekend. When we were at the bread aisle, and Piers was busy choosing a packet of bagels to bring home, I saw a product I’d never seen before (because we normally shop online so we miss stuff that way).

It was this product:

 

Warburtons Sandwich Thins
Warburtons Sandwich Thins

 

I thought it looked very tasty so I said to Piers, “Hey, this looks really nice. I’m going to try it next time.” (We’d already agreed on bagels this weekend.)

Piers didn’t hear me because he was still too busy mulling over bagel flavours.

But someone else heard me.

Someone sneaky by the name of Facebook.

UH HUH!

Because, this morning, when I went online and logged into Facebook, I was immediately greeted by this ad:

 

Facebook ad

 

In case you can’t read the small print, it says, “You like our Sandwich Thins, now like us on Facebook too!”

You like our Sandwich Thins…

 

WHAT MANNER OF SORCERY IS THIS, FACEBOOK?!?!?! HUH? HUH???

 

Last night was the first time I knew of the existence of these Sandwich Thins and I didn’t mention it to anyone apart from a selectively deaf husband, who was entirely focused on bagelry at that time, nor did I come home and google it or anything like that. The fact is that I forgot all about it the moment we left the bread aisle.

No one should know that I was showing any interest at all at Warburtons Sandwich Thins, okay, you hear me, Facebook?! Not a soul!

So there is only one thing left to do now.

We must all start wearing tin foil hats. And stat!

 

Britney Speares in a tin foil hat
Man, some people just look good in everything! Pfft.

Wow, I really needed another blog

Like I have so much to say that I’m flooding this blog with too many posts.

Like I have too much time on my hands.

Like I really need another platform to prove my existence.

NO.

But I’ve gone and jumped onto yet another social media micro blogging platform, anyway.

This:

 

Sheylara's profile on Dayre

Introducing my new blog on Dayre. Yay.

 

It’s all Nanny Wen’s fault. She showed me the stickers on Dayre and I was sold.

She said the sticker girl looks like me.

 

Stickers on Dayre

Does it really look like me? Okay, a bit.

 

Dayre is a phone app (iOS and Android) on which you post photos, videos, quotes, text or stickers, throughout the day. The app then puts the day’s posts together into one blog entry.

You can view posts on a browser but you can only update posts from your phone (like Instagram).

It’s new and quite buggy (especially the browser version) but fun and addictive when it’s working right.

The name is quite stupid, no matter how you read it. That’s probably the worst thing about this app.

But the stickers are cute, so that makes up for it. They need more stickers, though.

 

Sheylara's Dayre blog

Today’s post.

 

 

BUT.

 

WHY, OH, WHY,

SHEYLARA,

ARE YOU DOING THIS?!

 

you ask.

 

 

YOU DON’T BLOG HERE

OFTEN ENOUGH AS IT IS!

 

you say.

 

Yes, I hear you. Very valid argument. I am thoroughly ashamed of myself. I shall flagellate myself with a very fluffy pom pom on a stick.

Now hear me out.

The reason is that I’m so forgetful I’d forget my own name if I didn’t write it down. And that kind of condition is very inconvenient when you’re trying to remember random stuff on a daily basis. Important stuff.

For example: “What did we last order takeaway pizza?”

No, really. It’s very important. For instance, one day, I decided to write to Pizza Express to complain about them messing up our takeaway order (missing items and burnt dough balls). When filling in the online feedback form, I had to tell them which day, what time, and which restaurant we ordered from.

It took me 10 hours before I figured it out. And that was only because Piers came home and I asked him. And it took him only two hours to come up with an answer he couldn’t stake his life on.

Actually, we couldn’t even remember whether it was this week or last week.

 

The terror of forgetfulness

 

So, things like that happen in our household on a daily basis. We’re probably the most forgetful people in the universe, excepting Nanny Wen, who has been scientifically proven to be worse than us.

(By which I mean that I scientifically counted the number of times she forgot something, then scientifically counted the number of times Piers and I forgot something, then proceeded to forget all the counted numbers, finally producing a legitimate conclusion by guesstimation.)

So, anyway, long story short (although it ended up kinda long in retrospect), I’ve always thought about keeping a journal of daily happenings handy for times when I need to “remember” stuff.

And I’ve decided that Dayre seems like a fun way to do it.

 

Dayre on iPhone

What Dayre looks like on the iPhone.

 

I didn’t want to do it on my blog or Facebook or Twitter or Instagram because I have followers who will unceremoniously unfollow me if I start to spam their news feed with my boring daily life.

And I didn’t want to do it on a physical book with a physical pen because how boring, plus you can’t Google search physical journals for instant recall.

 

Dayre on iPhone

What Dayre looks like on the iPhone.

 

This all means that you probably don’t want to follow me on Dayre unless you’re a stalker, like Nanny Wen, who is my only stalker on the app.

In any case, while you can read someone’s blog through a regular browser, you can only “follow” them through the app, which you’ll need to install on your phone, which is too troublesome, so you probably won’t do it.

That’s fine.

But if you have to, for some incomprehensible reason, you can search for our usernames on the app (sheylara and davienne).

Happy stalking! Or not.