Dog Meat

So the footballer obsession I had was fed.

It was as though I had some dog meat. (Again, my penchant for irony and my knack for witty puns really impress me) Dog Meat – you know, somewhat unattainable, somewhat utterly available. Some sort of a need-to-try delicacy, yet also a feast befitting of a callous Neanderthal. Some of you may scowl in disgust, yet under that grimace, you wonder, is it like beef + chicken, or like pork + mutton? Of course, you may never care about it enough to entertain the thought, yet when presented with the odd chance to try it out… you would – just so you can say with a brush of your hair and half-closed eyes, while lighting a cigarette, in complete nonchalance, “dog meat? Sure I have tasted it. yes... it’s daring of me... but no, it’s no big deal, really.”

Question is: Would I try it again?

Rumours, urban legends and some taxi drivers claim, that once you’ve had some dog meat, when a dog so much as walks by you…… it knows. Some recoil in fear because they smell the barbaric air you breathe – while others find your rotten air of cold death slightly nauseating, slightly dominant, but unreservedly provocative. These dogs want a taste of you – whether it is for revenge sake, for self-gratification, or for a forbidden taste of power – we’d never know.

I just know they do because shortly after…

***In a work environment***

Sounds of typing keyboards, soft chatter, msn chat pop-ups, phone rings, facsimiles and coffee machine… My female colleague ShortSkirt says:

ShortSkirt: eh, what are you doing after work? Got 2 hours to spare? Need your presence at a meeting.

Me: is this official? Send me an email.

ShortSkirt: It is for work, but we can’t pay.

Me: do I look like a child prostitute or Mother Theresa to you…?

ShortSkirt: *ignoring my rudeness* You are so gonna thank me! I’m interviewing two guys who are sooo your type. Come and help me give them a hard time. PLEEEEASSSE… YOUR GORGEOUSNESSS.

Me: aiya. Hate it when you do that. Can never say no to you. What time and where?

***after work***

I enter the meeting room and I see ShortSkirt (with more make-up on than usual) and a BigGuy and a SmallGuy. BigGuy was big. Firm handshake. Nice smile. Sexy. Evil. Rough. SmallGuy was small. Handshake and a kiss. Cheeky grin. Cute. Harmless. Needy. Both are local football somebodies. With an air of indifference, I say

Me: hello celebrities…

ShortSkirt: *giggle*

SmallGuy: Please don’t call us that

BigGuy: Hello.

BigGuy 1 0 SmallGuy

Me: So, let’s proceed…!
ShortSkirt: blah blah blah
Me: blah blah blah
SmallGuy: blah blah blah
BigGuy: *silent. Looks intently at me*
ShortSkirt: blah blah blah
Me: blah blah blah
SmallGuy: blah blah blah
BigGuy: *silent. Looks intently at me*

*Finally…

BigGuy: *to me. Completely ignoring ShortSkirt* I’ve seen you somewhere before…. Now WHERE have I seen you?!?!

ShortSkirt: maybe…

BigGuy: *with a wave of the hand* shuddup, I’m trying to think. Think it’s some trashy, disgusting, men’s magazine.

*all laugh*

Me: very funny. I’ve never seen you before tho. And they say you’re a celebrity. What a con-man.

BigGuy: what can I say, the cab I took here, the taxi driver didn’t take my money! Sigh. It’s fame. I gotta try not to be so famous sometimes.

SmallGuy and ShortSkirt both try to say something

Me: *calmly* Maybe cos you were holding on to your money too tight.

BigGuy: Eh, Chinese woman, pls don’t make racist comments.

Me: What you gonna do? Get drunk and beat me up?

BigGuy: No… I’ll just rape your sister.

Me: OR Your own, by default.

SmallGuy and ShortSkirt look a little frightened.

BigGuy and I erupt into peals of laughter.

BigGuy 2 0 SmallGuy

***

BigGuy: Go for drinks?

Me: sure.

ShortSkirt: sure.

SmallGuy: ok. We both drove. So you (points to me) take my car and you (points to ShortSkirt) take BigGuy’s car?

BigGuy: No. This chilli padi should take my car. Cos you don’t take spicy food.

BigGuy 3 0 SmallGuy

At this point, if any of you feel sorry for ShortSkirt, please don’t be. She attracts her own brand of men. It’s just that today, these two just drove up my alley and right into me. She totally understands. So you should too.

***drinks after drinks after drinks later***

For some reason, at this point, BigGuy already has his hands on my waist. The crowd in the room has changed three times over. ShortSkirt has left, more friends have arrived, SmallGuy is busy buying everyone drinks and getting everybody a glass of champagne, and BigGuy was busy talking to my chest. I was leaning into him on purpose whenever possible, laughing at his jokes, making fun of everything he said or did, and basically, teasing him endlessly, I even did the occasional eye contact and the mandatory touching of his arm and cheek – like how Cosmo teaches. And lo and behold, I run into an old friend. He’s a bit of a shit-stirrer and a mahjong kaki, but still very much loved by me.

Old Friend: Hey you! How’ve you been?

Me: Good good! And you?

Old Friend: Good la. Still getting some. So not complaining. You? *he looks at BigGuy then says*, into footballs now, no more regular balls?

Me: haha. No la.

Old Friend: Be careful ya? He’s married you know.

Like someone choking on tofu

- I sure didn’t expect there to be a bone.

What the fuck.

How dare he be so audacious? Or did I ask for it? Did I egg him on? Am I fat? Is that girl my secondary school friend? Was I acting easy? Did I turn off the gas at home? Am I the Home-Wrecker type of girl? Is it my mannerisms? Does my dress say “Come all ye married?” Am I only fling-worthy? Do I look like a Weekend Blockbuster special? Have I paid my credit card bill? OMG! Do I know his wife? Did the bartender just wink at me? Shit. Shit. Shit.

Then again. Men are dogs. He’s an arsehole. How should I dispose of his body? He’s the one coming on to me. He’s obviously desperate for some outside food. He obviously FORGOT to mention it. Should I torch him? Should I perm my eye lashes? He obviously also didn’t wear a wedding band. He obviously is trying to get into my pants. Can I just find out if he’s a good kisser at least? He’s a world class dick!

I will not let him have me. I will not let him win. I need to pee.

See! A woman, despite consuming copious amounts of vodka, still can be very rational.

Night’s over. He insists on sending me home. I say no need, he say need. So next thing I knew, we were back in his car on his way to mine. He pulled up and said he needed to pee. I made no comment. He asks “Can I come upstairs? Need to pee.” And I was thinking to myself this guy is lame. After that conversation with Old Friend, I saw nothing sexy in BigGuy anymore. I saw a DOG. An ugly, drooling, pathetic, Rottweiler of a dog. Upstairs, he take a leak, checks out my place and sits down at the sofa with me. I gave him a courtesy glass of water. He says thanks. He says nice place you have. And he tries to kiss me. I push him away, and he comes on to me again. – like a dog – I push him away and after 3 pushes, I say: Go home and kiss your wife.

BigGuy: Hey, don’t say that.

Me: Why not?

BigGuy: Anyway, how did you know?

Me: You swine.

BigGuy: No, really, SmallGuy told you?

Me: Look, it doesn’t matter, just finish your drink and go.

BigGuy: Hey, let’s keep this separate, please. You look like you want to have a great time, and so do i. so, no commitments, alright?

Me: Sorry, not my thing

BigGuy: Come on… *he kisses my neck and my body goes weak* I’ve been thinking about fucking you the whole night.

Me: unghh… please stop. It’s really not right.

BigGuy: hey, you know you want some.

Me: no I don’t. please stop…

BigGuy: See what you’ve done? Just let me fuck you.

Me: no.

BigGuy: You’re such a cocktease.

I stood up. My top was nearly thrown over my shoulders and my skirt was halfway down my hips. To be honest, I really really wanted some. Every time he said the word fuck, I wanted to sit on him. I wanted to have him in my hands and I wanted to live for the moment a little. Halfway through thinking how horny I was, I figured I looked a little silly with my half peeled clothes. So, I took my top off. At that, he sat back and smiled. So I leaned forward, and slipped the skirt down to my ankles, and kicked it off. He sat up and smiled even more, chuckling to himself a little, not believing his luck. I put my hands to the back, and paused a long pause… I smiled at him, and he smiled back…. And ‘pop’ the bra went. We were both quiet for what felt like 5 aching minutes… and I did what was necessary to be fully undressed. And there I was, standing, full monty, in front of a man, clearly driven to the brink of madness. And I wanted it so so bad!

And then I did it.

I chased him out.

With a raging hard-on.

Yes! I think his last words were, “you fucking bitch, you can’t make me leave looking like that?!” And mine were “yes.i.can”.

Haha.

I had dog meat. I even ate the bones. Why would I do something so cruel again? Besides, this dog had an owner. Bitch’s Honour, though non-existent, must start somewhere.