"I'm not in love with him, but I'm in love with the idea of him. I'm not sure if he truly loves me, but I know that he loves the type of woman I represent." This is quoted from a 30-year old bank executive in a ‘trophy marriage’, where the relationship is mutually beneficial financially and socially, but really consists of little love.

In today’s age where love and romance is highly overrated, I suppose that’s what some are looking for.

That’s what a lot of people have been assuming about Lion and me. There was nothing between us to begin with, and those commenting that we make a pretty couple probably also knew of that sort of trophy association we have – attend events together and look good. I received a call from him and heard much of his whining about his mum, the Government, the economy, how high-flying yuppies in the banks are being swatted down like flies, and how precarious his position is. I suppose he will remain a good embellishment. I don’t like Lions who roar too loudly but lack depth.

The Fish, so far, is still swimming, but nowhere near its destination. Fish don’t have a destination do they, unless they are Salmon?

Taurus called me at 2am last night when I was trying to fall asleep. Even if I have insomnia, I will also not entertain him. Maybe this one is infected with British mad cow disease, and has been making me uncomfortable the whole year. Probably my immunity to such has strengthened and it no longer bugs me as much as it used to. Maybe I finally realized that I’ve been feeding on inferior beef and deserve better.

The other bull likes to tell me his traveling schedule. I never asked him to. He’s going to Bahrain a lot lately for work. Actually I think he’s quite nice, but always mean to me.

Dewberry is okay but I cannot bring myself to be any nicer.

White tiger is taking holidays everywhere. Once again, I refuse to be one of the girls who will fit into his schedule to ‘catch up for a drink’ tonight. He’s going off to Shanghai after just returning from Sydney.

My golf partner broke his foot and cannot play for the next few weeks, so poor thing.

Uncle BBC just chalked up $18k in medical from a fractured spine, and will not be here for the Volvo Ocean Race. He's so sweet and always tells me not to be so sad. I wish I could go sailing on his yacht sometime, but it seems scary, especially the stories about the pitch black, howling winds, high waves and storms chasing the boat from behind. I don't want a shark to eat me up if I fall into the sea. I rather eat shark's fin soup.