End Of Anonymity

I have a confession.

No, I’m biologically male and I still play for the same team. I’m addressing something which would affect the future of this blog and that’s the end of anonymity.

Yes I know I’ve been paddling in pseudo anonymity, despite my avatar and poor photoshop editing, some of you actually know who I am. Not surprisingly so, since a good number of you are NUS students and you’ll probably recognize me if you saw me. Oh and of cos, I’ve been shamelessly flaunting my pictures on MSN. Silly me.

Rather than be unceremoniously exposed, I’d figured it’ll only be polite (yes if it’s possible coming from someone like me) to reward your loyalty and adoration with a pre emptive publicizing of my cameo in a local magazine. One we commonly view as Cleo’s annual hunt of bachelors.

Me? An Eligible Bachelor? Yes.

I’m prepared for the few who will vehemently protest against having me plastered in a bevy of ‘hunks’ (49 others to be exact). What is a pussy-cat like me doing in a selection comprising of well chiseled bodies and commercial high-fliers? Well, wits and being me are my only entry merits to this.

And of cos, faux-celebrity status under the Butterfly moniker, which gives me an edge of about 2 million imaginary daily addicts who refresh my site periodically. No, I have no idea what is my catchment readership and I have no interest unless I have a book publisher sediment under teenage school girls, arm chair moralist and beer loving men, that’s secretly reading.

Well one reason I’ve been so selective in uploading my pictures, other that the core reason of being lazy, is that there aren’t many pictures I look good in. Yes, as much as being blessed with sharp features, I’m seldom ever photo perfect. As for the Cleo spread, I can’t say I’m ecstatic with the product but they’ve managed to capture me with a good measure decency in that I actually look… wholesome.

Yes, the voting sites will be up and so will my page, as soon as procrastination decides to leave me and pro-activeness comes on as a worthy substitute. Firstly, this isn’t on a self volunteering basis and my decision to accept the invitation to be part of this has been greeted with a myriad of reactions, largely supportive ones.

I’m a slut. Undeniably so. I won’t deny that I like the occasional attention, which makes this a common confession of sorts. Yes, I indulge in the same guilty pleasures as you.. attention basking, cookies and cream, reading my blog, suicide bombing…and the big M naturally.

Yet even me, your narcissistic, alcohol gulping protagonist have reservations. If this were a Miss Tiffany contest, I’d have enough confidence to know I’ll be in the top 5 and celebrate my win minutes later with a good shuffle routine, in mini skirt of cos. But in a celebration of model physiques and masculinity, I have nothing much to offer, except an ailing liver, diminishing drinking prowess and of cos, my newly acquired scar. So, if you’ve wasted your money calling in for NKF donations, you’re better off rooting for me.