May seems like the hottest period of the year. The days are still and arid and the nights, warm and stuffy.

But on this Friday night? I, had a hot date. And a sizzlin’ hot one at that.

Dressed to my nines with a new pair of shoes, I found myself strutting confidently down the Singapore River and into a smokeless jazz bar where I envisioned my date smiling smugly at me as I took my seat next to him.

But of course, as I should’ve expected, he was late.

30 year old Clyde was an advertising executive who seemed to own it all and have it all. He had success stamped on his forehead and a stylish haircut to crown it. We were introduced briefly at the after party of a fashion show some weeks back where we exchanged name cards, smiles and small talk. I was instantly taken by his firm handshake.

“A man with a firm hand huh?” Jared smirked at me the following weekend. “I like that. Ask him out then!”

As it turns out, I didn’t have to because he asked me out first.

“A martini please.” I said to the bartender as soon as I seated myself with a view of the jazz musicians on stage.

“Just one?” he asked.

“Just one for now.” I smiled.

I whipped out my cell phone to text Clyde that I’ve arrived, half hoping to see a message from him saying he was late. But nope, nothing.

20 minutes, one cosmopolitan and 2 faux calls later (phone calls you cancel before getting through), there was still no word from him. I started wondering if I was in the right place to begin with. I decided to text him again, asking where he was, hoping for a reply.

I waited for 15 more minutes and gave up. I gave him one final call and was greeted by his voicemail instead. I realized he had probably died in a car crash on the way here. Well, that was a lot easier to believe than accepting that I was unceremoniously stood up.

I walked out of the bar with my head down. It could have been the hottest season of the year, but that night had left me feeling colder than ever.

* * *

“I can’t believe that jerk stood you up!” Charles said and slammed his fork on the table.

“Hey take it easy. They do that you know, these dates. They get you all tingly and excited and then… poof! They disappear,” Miguel snorted.

It was a Saturday morning and it would’ve been a beautiful one for our usual brunch hadn’t I been wallowing around in self-pity. I woke up deciding I looked like shit and contemplated swallowing a bottle of arsenic from the humiliation and disappointment of last night’s rejection.

What was it about me that made me undesirable? Was it my hair? My clothes? My shoes? Was it something I did?

“I don’t get it. He was initiating everything all this while,” I said.

“You know what? Maybe he did die in a car crash.” Sam shrugged as he scooped salad onto my plate.

Miguel looked at Sam, put on his cynical face and remarked, “Good. That’s one less jerk to deal with as far as I’m concerned.”

Spitting death upon the poor guy aside, meeting up with the gang lifted my spirits somewhat. And yet I couldn’t help but feel like a complete loser for being stood up, and I hated that my self-esteem dipped to a low thanks to someone I barely knew.

Perhaps I had fallen into the trap of anticipation and expectation, but if a failed first date could bring about such negative emotions, had I been guilty of trying to make myself happy by being wanted by someone else?

That afternoon, as I waited at the taxi stand with a bag of groceries in hand, I spotted a couple having a heated argument right across the street. Though drowned by traffic noise, I could tell there were raised voices by the entertaining mixture of angry facial contortions ending abruptly when the girl stormed off in a huff leaving her man to shout at her back in indignation.

Back home, as I sat in front of my laptop with a mug of coffee, I got to thinking about my own past relationships and people I’ve gone out with on dates with varying levels of seriousness. While most were great up to a certain point, I couldn’t help but wonder, after spending so much time nurturing our relationships with other people, have we all neglected the relationship we have with ourselves?

It takes two to make things happen and one of them is yourself. In relationships, we sometimes forget who we are and the things we like to do as individuals. It can sometimes get to a point where our sense of being is affected by the other person. Case in point: how pathetic I felt after being stood up that Friday.

I realized then, that I had enough. I was sick of feeling low because of someone else. I was going to hold my head up high and treat myself well, doing things that made me feel good without needing someone else to validate me. Perhaps I could take this time as an empowered single person to look back, learn and make myself a better person and a better partner in future. They say that life is short, yet it’s the longest thing we know and nobody comes out of it alive. The least we could do is make ourselves happy while at it.

And so I decided to have a mini solo celebration to mark this valuable epiphany with a trip to the nearest café.

It was one of those days where it wasn’t overbearingly hot. The grass seemed to be greener than yesterday and everything was simply perfect. It was beautiful and I walked with an extra spring in my step. It was great to simply be alive. Nothing around me had changed, but something inside me had.

I was at peace with myself.

Relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic. Those that are old and familiar. Those that bring up lots of questions. Those that bring you somewhere unexpected. Those that bring you far from where you started. And those that bring you back.

But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself.

I stepped into the quiet café, at once, embracing its calm and walked up to the counter to place my order.

“One butterscotch latte please.” I said.

“Just one?”

I gave her a warm, broad smile and replied, “Yep, just one.”

Editor's Note: In between sipping cosmo at Scout with her other dragtastic sisters, Calorie Bradshawl is also busy with the upcoming Sex and the City movie, due in theatres May 30th. Still bitter about her rejection from The New York Star, she will be writing weekly at Trevvy. In the meantime, she shops for Manolo Blahniks and expands her extensive wardrobe. She hopes to find true love, as elusive as it may be.

Calorie Bradshawl's articles are written by the writers at Team Trevvy, as part of Trevvy's tie-up with Warner Bros' to promote the upcoming Sex and the City movie. This piece is by Zee.

Author's Bio: Masquerading as a writer, Zee has a soft spot for tragic French poetry, good house music and is also editor-in-chief of Plume, a queer youth website. When it comes to relationships, he is neither an idealist nor an excessive cynic. He is a realist.