Ah Seng was a 55-year-old karang guni man living in Hougang. Every morning he pushed his trolley under the sun, collecting cardboard and cans, dreaming of saving enough to retire quietly with his wife, Mdm Tan.
They had been married for over 30 years—simple life, kopi O, Channel 8 dramas, and arguing over aircon bills. Not romantic, but stable.
Then one day, while doing collection at an industrial park, he met Lingling, a 33-year-old PRC woman who was working in a massage parlour nearby.
She smiled at him. Called him “Seng ge.” Offered him water. Told him he looked “very steady, very manly.”
For the first time in years, someone praised him. Not nagged him. Not scolded him for wetting the toilet floor.
Soon, Lingling started texting him at night:
> “Seng ge, I so lonely in Singapore… Nobody care about me…”
> “You so kind. Got wife like you must very lucky… but maybe she not appreciate you?”
Ah Seng’s heart stirred. The texts became meetups, then meals, then secret staycations at budget hotels in Balestier.
Before long, he was giving her money for rent, buying her iPhones, even giving her his POSB ATM card.
One day, Mdm Tan found lipstick stains on his shirt. She confronted him. He confessed. She slapped him, packed her bags, and left.
Ah Seng thought he was finally free to marry Lingling.
But one week after his divorce, Lingling told him she had to “go back China settle something.”
She never came back.
Her number was gone. Her WeChat deleted. His ATM card—cleaned out.
Ah Seng was left alone, heartbroken, divorced, CPF empty, and still pushing his trolley.
—
Moral of the story:
Sometimes the “massage” is for your ego… but the pain is for your wallet and marriage.