It's a habit of mine to update The Mother of my weekend plans so that she'd make no plans to drag me along for any wet-marketing.

Me: Blah blah blah... and oh, Friday I'd be out for a late night movie.

The Mother: With whom?

Me: Friend.

The Mother (eyed me curiously): Which one? The one with dragonboat?

Me: NO!

The Mother's memory of me going out with guys probably stopped at that one time I went out with a himbotic dragonboater who's so madly in love with himself. Then she went on about the latest gossip in the neighbourhood while I sat beside her, staring into blank space and absent-mindedly stuffing chocolate gelato into my mouth, spoon after spoon.

The Mother: If you don't like the ice cream you can put it back.

Me: Who says I don't?

The Mother: Because you are crying!

Me: That's because I'm sad.

The Mother: You're silly.

Me: I know.

I sprawled and rested my arms lazily on the dining table and fed The Mother with tibits from my love affair department. She didn't have to listen much before knowing where I was getting to.

The Mother: Next time, don't doubt people's love for you. Now it's too late.

Me: I don't doubt. I just don't think it's real and concrete at that early stage.

Like spring chicken. You need to let it grow and develop muscles before you know it's tasty enough to kill it for dinner, right?

The Mother: Then why are you crying?

Thereafter I actually allowed my ears soak in a string of real-life stories, analogies and advices until I thought I had enough.

Me (hands on hip): You know what? I have a pool of ang mohs to choose from. I'm dating one of those.

The Mother laughed at me with disbelief. My sudden outburst of negative emotion is usually ephemeral. She knows she has nothing to worry about because it'd be a long time for my next crying-over-a-boy. Right now, she's more worried about my shopping sprees to get over the negative emotions.

The Mother: And by the way, spending money is not a solution to your problems.