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.