Tinker, Tailor

“So who do you want?” my friend asked me about the celebrities I would sleep with.

I had a hard time thinking of one.

“Oh I know! The one who was in Fantastic 4!”

“Jessica Alba?”

“I think so.” I’m not good with celebrity names.

“That’s every guy’s dream lah.” She wasn’t very impressed with my unoriginal answer.

“Every guy’s dream would be Angelina Jolie” said I.

“Angelina Jolie is the dream of every guy and every girl!” she retorted.

I had to pause. I couldn’t argue, since it came from a straight girl.

“You’re right,” I replied, “Angelina Jolie is a lot like me - she attracts both guys and girls.”

She rolled her eyes really really high.

Quite unfortunately, there is a part 3, continuing from my last post, Close Encounter of the Queer Kind. Read it first if you want this post to make sense.

* * *

So Jane (the contact person) told me today that gay dude wants to speak to me.

“What is it about?” I asked.

“I don’t know. He just says he wants to speak to you.”

“Maybe I could drop by his desk later to talk to him.”

“He might be busy,” said Jane, “I’ll send you his phone number - why don’t you just sms him?”

Sms him was exactly what I didn’t want to do. It would mean that he could get hold of my number.

But sms him I did, because I had no other options (and believe me, I tried hard to think of other options, but given my constraints, there were no other options).

He eventually called me.

“Hello!” he enthusiastically greeted me. He didn’t identify himself, but it was obviously him.

“Hullo? you are?” I pretended not to know. Maybe he’d be able to tell that I haven’t saved his number under my contacts that’s why I don’t seem to know who’s calling.

To cut the long story short, he asked for my facebook account, because he wanted to “show me something” related to what he was talking to me about in the meeting.

“Oh it’s ok, I already have the information I need. But thanks anyway.”

“Or can we meet up maybe later this evening to… discuss a bit more?”

I could feel him blushing already.

“Any particular thing you have in mind?” I still had to be open since it could help my work. You see, I still can be highly professional under severe emotional stress.

“Nothing in particular. I just thought maybe we could talk a bit in the evening.”

“Oh it’s ok don’t worry, I’ve got enough information from you. But thanks alot. I’ll contact you again if I need anything ok?”

The kinds of things I go through - I should ask my boss for a raise.

So there I was, sitting in a small room, alone with this gay dude.

No, he was sitting at the other side of the meeting room table, and not on my lap. This was work, so I had to be there, talking to him.

He was cooperative. Very cooperative. Highly cooperative. Too cooperative. Eager, keen, answering all my questions with complete enthusiasm, albeit a little breathlessly.

I, on the other hand, tried my best not to display anything that might be misconstrued as being remotely interested in him; yet I had to look interested in the information he was giving. It was stressful. Especially with that longing gaze he was giving me when I was speaking

When the meeting was finally over, I thanked him, stood up and opened the door and motioned for him to leave.

He was still in his seat, not quite ready to leave.

“Oh by the way, do you have a name card?”

“I’m sorry I ran out of name cards.”

Okay - I made a grammatical error - it should have been in the present continuous tense - “I‘m running out of name cards” - but you get the idea.

“Can I have your email?” he asked, “in case I have more information I can email it to you.”

“You can email it to Jane (the contact person) - she’ll forward it to me.” I was impressed by my quick thinking under duress.

He reluctantly got up. I noticed that he was blushing hard by then.

“By the way, I forgot your name. You are…” He wanted to remember my name.

I gave him my first name.

He used his right index finger to spell out my name on his left palm. He wanted to remember my name.

I figured that he wouldn’t be able to get my contact only with my first name. Unless he tried really, really hard. The problem is that he might.

I was still holding the door open for him, and he finally and reluctantly bade me goodbye and stepped out.

He was still standing outside and looking in when I shut the door.

Part 2

Yes, quite unfortunately there’s a part 2 to this.

A few minutes later, I went to the toilet. After I was done, guess who came in?

He was quite thoroughly delighted to see me, and said ‘hello’ and tried to make small talk. Thankfully, I was already about to leave.

I slowed down a little to be polite and say ‘hi’ back, but he’d already turned around to face me to have a full-on conversation with me. His face turned bright red again.

As mentioned earlier, I was already about to leave. I wasn’t about to change my mind.

“Hey nice seeing you around - I better get going - got lots to do” said I before disappearing around the exit bend and thanking my lucky stars that he didn’t come in half a minute earlier when I was in a much more vulnerable position.

FAQs

When I related this incident to some friends, these were their FAQs, followed by my answers:

1. How old is he?

Mid 20s.

2. Is he cute?

WHO CARES?!?!?

If you notice that I haven’t been updating my blog, it could only mean that I’ve been too busy.

But that doesn’t mean I’m too busy to flirt, like when this friend smsed me, rather out of the blue.

Friend: Hi handsome

Although I was busy, I couldn’t resist replying.

Me: Hi handsome

No, the friend is female.

Friend: Hrmph

Friend: Ure so boring to play with

End of conversation.

It was a hot and sweaty afternoon when I saw this caucasian guy near the Asian Civilisations Museum.

He was actually talking on his mobile phone. I went in closer to get a close-up shot, but that was when he finished his call and got up. He probably comes from Alaska or Siberia.

Reminds me of the difference between Asian and Westerners.