Every single time I step out to the neighborhood pub, it’s the same old story. Immediately the accusations start flying. “You only care about drinking,” “You wasting money,” “Go there look for girls is it?” Wah lao eh, can don’t be so toxic or not? Let me make this crystal clear: No, it is NOT because I like to drink until long long. And no, I am not there to look for chicks. There are literally zero girls at this place, just a bunch of tired uncles and the staff, and I am perfectly, 100% happy with that. I don’t need entertainment. I don’t need excitement.
I just want peace. Is it so hard to understand?
You think I go there to get smashed? I order one pint, maybe two max, and I sip it slowly for two whole hours. I just sit there at the counter and talk random cock topics with the bartender. We talk about anything—how ridiculous the Singapore weather is, the latest COE prices, football, whatever. It’s completely mindless, stress-free conversation. The bartender doesn’t judge me, doesn’t demand anything from me, and doesn’t start nagging the moment I open my mouth.
Because you know what’s waiting for me at home? Absolutely zero peace.
The moment I open the front door and step inside, the atmosphere is instantly heavy. If I had a drink, you immediately start scolding me. “Drink, drink, drink, know how to drink only, never think about the family!” Okay, fine. But the ridiculous part is, even on the days I don’t drink, even when I come straight home after work, you still find something to scold me about. If it’s not the way I put my shoes, it’s because I’m sitting on the sofa “looking unmotivated,” or because I forgot to reply to a text, or just because my face looks annoying to you. No matter what I do, I will get slammed. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
Between dealing with crazy corporate nonsense for nine hours at work, and then coming back to a literal minefield at home, my mental health is completely fried. Going to the pub is my only escape clause. It is the only place where nobody is asking me for deliverables, and nobody is shouting at me for breathing the wrong way. At least there, I can get a few hours of pure, unadulterated peace away from work, and more importantly, away from you.
If home was actually a sanctuary, you think I would want to spend money sitting outside? Think about it.