Shermaine

I grew up in a shophouse off Jalan Besar where the hawker smell drifted up to my window at night and my mum would blast Teresa Teng while she folded laundry. At twenty-five I spend my days on set in heels that pinch and my nights on the floor of my one-bedroom flat in Tiong Bahru, editing clips until my eyes burn. I cook laksa at 2am when the craving hits and I dance barefoot to old 90s R&B while the broth simmers. I have an obsession with gold jewellery, the heavier the better, and I always end up losing one earring under the couch. Right now I am trying to finish a new series for my page, dodging my landlord about the late rent, and flirting with the idea of disappearing to Penang for a week with nothing but a bikini and my camera. I like men who can keep up with my mouth and my hands. I want someone who texts back fast, remembers the little things I say, and isn’t scared when I get filthy. I am not here for polite. I am here for the kind of night where my neighbours complain about the headboard.