Mr. One-Liners

The key words were “Free Flow”. And only a world class literary expert like me would point out that it’s a clever use of alliteration. The rest are at the bar already.

My homegirl Anjali was newly in love. She arrived, fashionably late with her boy in tow, both of them wearing black tops (gotta be a coincidence)… She slowly raised her arms up high above her head, swung her head to one side, stretched the neckline, nestles into the most smoking of eye-locks… puts her hands round the back of her neck and sways her hips towards the new love-interest… he spun her around, pulls her by the top of her pants, closes the gap, plants a kiss on her lips and they burst into giggles. I noticed she wore no make-up - her quiet indication that she was outside the pick-up radar, and I knew I was on my own tonight.

So there I was, at the Martel Rise Above Party… a cable car ride away from civilization, free flow whiskey and a WingWoman down. It’s like being at a Ben & Jerry’s vending machine with no tokens. In times like these, the party-prodigy in me knows to hit the bar and knock back a few shots.

On the way to the bar. I got hijacked.

a) This dude didn’t have a drink for me. (I don’t do ugly guys when sober)
b) He had a horrible opening line (I don’t do people with no strategy)
c) He is lighter than a feather. (I don’t do skinny boys)
d) He is shorter than Frodo. (I try not to do short boys)

Rule #37: Never hijack a girl on the way to the bar if you look like that - unless you’re intercepting her with a worthy drink.
Two words: Bad. Start.

Him: (shaking a finger at me and faking a thinking frown) I’ve seen you around before
Me: Yeah, I got a common face.
Him: (like a rocket scientist) BALA! Balaclava.
Me: Oh, perhaps.
Him: You’re always there.

This is a sure way to irritate me… because I HATE being known as a “regular” of any place. I’m a chameleon. I am a shape-shifter. I am mysterious, unpredictable and elusive. I’m never ALWAYS at a place.

Me: nope. Think you got the wrong person.
Him: (catching it fast) Ok, maybe we met through work then.
Me: You think? So, what do you do?

I hate that question. Above that, I hate people that ask that question. It’s a rookie mistake. But I wasn’t intending to impress this guy, so I was risking my image with a run-of-the-mill question.

Him: I hate people who ask that question... I’ll answer Advertising. And you’ll say you’re in Sales. We’ll exchange namecards – with two hands - and you’d say “email me” and I’d never see you again. Ever. Not even at bala now.
Me: *picking my jaw up from the floor*

Inside me, I was playing the worlds’ smallest violin. A butterfly in my stomach did a somersault. And my toes were dancing… I studied this guy, this time with renewed interest and a bemused smile, suddenly very interested in what he has to say…

Me: (After a very flirty pause to compose myself)
Well, I ask it to people I am not interested in.
Him: With looks like yours, you have every excuse to be rude. I’ve seen how you shut guys off. But take my advice and give people a chance.
Me: You’ve seen me around? What are you, a stalker?!
Him: if you should be so lucky.
Me: oooh. Aren’t we cocky? YOU’RE chatting ME up, I’d advise some vodka and humility.
Him: *suddenly soft* I’ve seen you a few times. Tell me... why are you always in a group, but always alone…?
Me: *the surrendering eye-lock*
Ok. What can I do you for?

*laugh*

Him: Don’t be so presumptuous.

*laugh*

We exchanged numbers and Frodo scored a drink date.

The (Controversial) One Night Stand

This happened in 2003. And it was a Wednesday. I remember it’s a Wednesday because this was a point in my life where I lived for 2 words. “Ladies’ Night”. It was my final year in the Uni, I was fresh out of a 3yr relationship (Read: 3 years of unfulfilling sex), and my best party pal - codenamed “BIX” was back in Singapore with her perfect tits, her slender waist, her porcelain skin and her amazing stomach for alcohol - ready to show the boys what they were missing out.

On hindsight, this was one of the coolest phases of life in Xin City. I was single and under de-construction (wearing braces). I had blonde streaks right down to my waist and a ridiculously well-paying part-time job. I was a student with a supplementary-card. I was managing Bs in school. I could afford to sleep in, get a tan, and make party plans.… and now I even had myself…… a Worthy Wing Woman.

If you ask any self–respecting party animal of the millennium they would be able to tell you that the cool people of this time (and possibly even now) all flocked to Zouk. Having great foresight, they played Hip Hop RnB in Phuture while synchronized dancing to bananarama which is, like, soooo yesterday, dominated Zouk.

So we were in Phuture… bix and I chose our weapons carefully. She opted for cleavage and I opted for the mini-skirt effect. All good. She looks beyond me and tells me

Bix: “Oh my… Your 6 o’clock… YOUR kind of guy”
Me: “I know!!! Saw him the moment we stepped in. how cute is that?!”
Bix: *rolls eyeballs* “Don’t know what you see in guys like that. So gross. He keeps looking over”
Me: (to self) “ok. Act cool. Gyrate gyrate, flick hair.”

His friend, Mr. Oohlala, walks up and talks to bix instead.

MY kinda guy in 2003 goes something like that: He is to have rippling muscles, complete with near-popping veins that would put a magnified peanut to shame. - This guy didn’t only possess that, he also had the face of a badass angel. Now all he needed was to be able to hold a decent conversation and pay for his own drinks, and the target can be pronounced locked.

Mr. Oohlala is outrageously generous. And also having a very intense conversation with bix’s boobies. 10 illusions, 2 tequila shots and a yawn later, Mr. Muscle Mary finally breaks the ice. Instead of launching into a clichéd opening line, like most meatheads, he impressed me by simply smiling… holding his arms to his side, sliding up behind me, presses his bulging chest on my back and flexed his muscles… I threw my head back, giggled at his heaving steel chest and he said...

“I saw you looking.”

What a cocky guy. Right up my alley. Target locked.