This essay was published on Substack in Aug 2026. Subscribe to the Shy & Curious Substack for first access to the latest personal essays, free articles and AMA sessions!
“Oh no,” I thought as I gingerly wiped the snot threatening to escape my nose while my front-facing iPhone camera was still recording, “I’ve turned into one of those.”
Those was shorthand for content creators who cry on cue for the clicks. That was my impression of them as I’ll dismiss and swipe away their reels if they appeared on my Instagram feed. Yet there I was with tears rolling down my cheeks, sitting on my living room floor so I could capitalise on the golden hour light streaming through my windows. It was then as I accidentally cried while recording the eleventh video that shit got real for me.
The start of the shoot was innocuous enough, my intention was to answer a reader’s question from a previous episode: how did I discover my ex wasn’t just cheating on me but that I was The Other Woman all along?
I was talking into the influencer’s weapon of choice, the ubiquitous tiny DJI microphone, clipped onto a bottle of hand sanitizer with the words ‘Fresh Dick’ plastered on it.
But at that moment as I peered back at the mirror screen, I am both the narrator and the observer. The dumper of trauma forged from the long drawn history of self-abandonment, yet the video editor who thought “This would make a really good 3 second hook” halfway through my confession.
I didn’t foresee this as my current reality 11 days ago.
Back then, I was hunched over my desk quietly in the production workroom with my other teammates at The Wicker Club. I’d just came back from yet another KL tango jaunt and slowly settling back to the grind at my part-time gig. As my mind wandered off to my to-do list to catch up on, it hit me that I haven’t written for Shy & Curious for a while. The last essay was about giving up on the 5-year plan and going with the flow, just like one does in tango. Great philosophy for dancing and exploring life but not as productive for the content calendar. Was this a case of genuine writer’s block or was I just feeling uninspired? I realized the answer was staring right before me. Or rather they were chatting and laughing amongst themselves as Sabrina Carpenter played in the background.
It’s no secret that I’m the oldest in the company. For once, I’m not actually exaggerating when I admit that they’re mostly half my age. The Millennial and Gen Z divide has never rang truer as when I’m discovering new music through what’s trending on TikTok, getting schooled on what does 6 7 actually mean, or getting complimented on my ’vintage’ T-shirt by my teammates and then realising it’s older than they are. Aha! Perhaps instead of commiserating over the age gap, maybe I should use it as my secret weapon.
“Hey guys,” I looked up from my desk, “I’m coming up with the next essay for the blog – what do you wanna know about sex?”
Their answers surprised me. Apart from myth-busting the average penis sizes and what counts as ‘bigger than average’, most of their questions actually centered around a much tamer topic: love.
As they shared their questions about their situationships, the ‘what should I do’s’, and “but why did they’s’’, I found myself answering back in the form of a wise wizened grandma sitting in her rocking chair. “You know, this reminds me of that time I….”, “Oh that kinda sounds like when I was going out with….” and “One time, in band camp…”
I kid with the last one (Ed’s Note: that’s a millennial reference #iykyk) but as I regaled them with my dating mistakes and relationship advice, a tiny lightbulb glowed above my head. “Heeeeyyyyyy what if I share love lessons I’ve learned from my exes on the blog?
“That’s pretty cool, I would read that,” came one of the encouraging replies.
The lightbulb shone brighter as the words escaped my mouth, “Oh you know what will be funny? I’m turning 42 next month so what if I do 42 stories as a countdown to my birthday?”
“Yeeesssssss… do it!!!” the chorus rang around the room. I got caught up in the excitement too and cheered. “YES OMG LET’S DO IT! Ok, let’s check the dates to see when should I start then…”
I picked up my phone and looked at the calendar.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
It was exactly 42 days to my birthday. ON. THAT. DAY.
“Uh oh guys,” I looked up in panic, “If I want to kickstart this idea, I have to actually post today. It’s exactly 42 days today.”
“IT’S A SIGN!!!”
So as I sat on the MRT back home later that night, I opened up Canva and looked through my phone library. Shit I’m really going to do this, I frowned to myself as I scrolled up the years, 2026, 2024, 2020…
It was almost 11pm and I won’t have time to record a short video.
I’ve said it aloud. I’ve set the intention. I can’t back out now.
2018, 2019, 2016….
Finally I found it buried deep in the archives of my 2014 photo library. It was a picture of myself and him in Colombia. The ex boyfriend that had been so formative to my love life yet now I can no longer bear to say his real name and only refer to him as Voldemort instead. I used to think it was my favourite photo of us as we held hands in front of a vivid blue brick wall with a red grafitti heart sprayed on right behind us in his hometown Bogota, Colombia. I was smiling brightly at the camera with tenderness and awe in my eyes. It was my first trip to meet his family and I was feeling slightly overwhelmed but grateful to be there. He stared down the camera with a smirk and what I see now as pure arrogance. But once upon a time, I mistook it for love and pride.
I opened the photo up in Canva and blurred his face. Then I typed out in bold yellow serif capitals ’42 LESSONS FROM MY EXES BEFORE I TURN 42’. I saved the graphic, downloaded it, looked at my watch and held my breath. Then I posted it on Instagram.
42 LESSONS FROM MY EXES ☕️🫖 Its exactly 42 days until I turn 42 so instead of feeling blue about it, I’m going to turn all those stories I’ve experienced about love and the sexy stuff into tea for you. (And hopefully moral and sex ed lessons too ) This will either be the most brilliant idea I’ve ever had – or I’m going to crash and burn halfway through the next 42 days. Either way, strap-in (or ‘on’ if you prefer 😏) for the ride!
P.S In case you’re wondering, yes that’s a 29 year old naive Rin in love in the photo. Don’t worry, I’ll share that story too
There. It’s done. It’s out in the world. My shoulders sinked down as I released my breath slowly and rested the back of my head on the train’s window. I’m really doing this.
What did I sign up for?
Definitely the thought of doing live therapy as I reignited past trauma in front of 245,000 strangers and friends did not occur to me on Day 1.
As I settled into bed after my shower, I opened up my iPhone notes and created a list. No, I didn’t actually have 42 exes to plot down but I’m sure I had enough stories to last for the next month or so. In the stillness of the night with the glow of the screen across my face, I started typing the names of my exes in no apparent order alongside a bullet point of a prominent memory I’d associated them with.
Number 1 to 10 were easy enough, most of the stories revolved around the same few characters who featured heavily in my 20’s as I navigated dating in New York. Especially the ex who started my origin story in both the love and sex department – my very first boyfriend S whom I’ll later refer to as Sugar Daddy in the series. I’ve also shared some of these personal stories in the sex ed workshops I’ve conducted for women so I was pretty confident about going on camera to narrate them again.
My eyelids were starting to get heavier so it was time to call it a night. I smiled to myself as I looked at my list so far. I’m sure I’ll figure out the other stories along the way.
- S – codependency
- S – vibrator
- C – menses
- L – braces
- W- gummy bear
- T – Rinjob
- L – I don’t love you the way you love me (believe them)
- W – first fight
- D – ice cream
- L – holding hands
To anyone else, it looked like a cipher to decode without any context but to me, they were the markers of a life lived through love. Or so I believed.
“This should be fun” were my last thoughts before falling asleep.
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