Me just before my haircut. And yes, the title of this post is a play on a popular Bonny Hicks’ book.
Disclaimer: What you’re about to read is a break from my typical style of blogging. This is a tame version of how popular Singaporean blogger, Xiaxue, would write… with loads of photos… lots of triple periods… and improper grammar. Most importantly, this really happened just now…
I’m not certain how you would make of this. While some guys get all the attention, I feel as if I’d die unnoticed if a car were to hit me on a busy street (Eeerk! XP ). Thus, today was a miracle of sorts, at least to me.
It started with a good Fried Dumpling Noodle dinner @ Holland Village market, then a trip to the REDS Salon @ Bugis Junction to look less ugly.
It was quite painless actually, with the salon receptionist asking if I wanted tea, a neighborly lady shampooing my hair then massaging my scalp, and finally Cammy, my cute mandarin-speaking hairstylist, performing her magic on my head. I can only blame myself for skipping Chinese tuition back in Primary school, since my chit chat was restricted to “Pain? Sorry, Good.” in that order. Despite her demeanor, Cammy must be quite an important figure in the salon, having seen her give instructions to her colleagues. I believe the whole process only took half an hour and $38 later, she had given me a sharper look (what do you think?).
I paraded around Bugis Junction, looking at the Sony store and some of the vinyl figurines before deciding to head home. Along the way, I decided to stop by Liang Seah Street for a warm almond / sesame paste dessert (aptly name Ying/Yang). There’s this particular store I frequent called “Zi De Chi” or “Don’t Forget to Eat” in English, which makes excellent homemade desserts at reasonable prices.
After I devouring the whole bowl, I paced to the nearby bus stop where the most bizarre thing happened. This part gets juicy so hang on to your seat. And no, I didn’t dare take out my camera and I wasn’t wearing my mounted one.
It was getting late and pretty crowded, with everyone waiting for their bus to bring them home. A professional-looking Japanese couple chatters nearby. Just then, as her husband turned away, she looked towards me. Uncertain of what to make of this, she eyed me quickly but playfully, scanning me from head to toe. With her fingers twirling around her pearl necklace, she held on to her husband as their bus arrived. I thought something was wrong with the way I was dressed, then realizing how I was less ugly today, perhaps it was only obvious. As a kid, I’ve learnt from enough James Bond movies that married women make best mistresses, which makes sense since they wouldn’t risk saying anything. Still, that’s only in the movies and besides, I’d never be able to bare tearing up someone’s relationship.
I maintained my composure by turning to look at a rather attractive working lady in her late twenties, seated just two benches away. Her eyes were dressed in sensual black-rimmed glasses, slender wrist clasped with an exquisite floral timepiece, and her tall, lean body adorned in white fauna semi-formal attire. I recalled that she noticed me when I first entered the bus stop, but soon after she retired to playing with her cellphone while waiting on.
A few buses later, No. 7 finally came by. I stood myself in pole position to enter the bus early, where I was duly rewarded one of those spacier sideway seating. As I looked up, I noticed that the same lady was right behind, calmly edging her way closer to me. As if we had known each other before, she came to sit right next to me! Stranger than fiction, I surveyed the plentiful seats available throughout the bus. What was going on?
She sat close enough that the hair from our forearms tickled one another, sending a little jolts of electricity around. I’ve read books on how to tell a woman’s pickup signs and this was pretty obvious. Yet, I must have forgotten a final chapter to the book… on “How to say Hi”. Lacking any form of manliness, I rummaged through my Timbuktu bag and pulled out Singapore National Heritage booklets Siva had told me to check out. Perhaps she’d think I’m cultured that way… at least I didn’t pull out my SEED magazine to read the tear-away feature on String Theory.
Afraid to look at her, I eyed the reflection from across the window… only to be met by her eyes there again. I quickly looked back down. Reading on, I could still tell that she was making glances at my picturesque pages. By this time, we had reached the stop opposite John Littles. Tired of my lack of response (and probably because she had to change buses), she packed her cellphone into her handbag and trotted off, but not before having a little trouble with her EZlink card on her way out.
Despite what you might think, this inaction wasn’t because of indecision, but rather a calculated need for survival. I realized that after all this time, after all my conviction that I changed, I’m still the very same person I first saw in the mirror. It’s puzzling how when I look hard for something, I can’t find it. Yet when I’ve stopped, it comes to me.
Aside: If you feel grossed out by the corpulent show of ego, don’t say a thing and this will be the last of such posts I promise. On the other hand, if you like what you’ve seen, let me know and I’ll share more of my barely romantic but actual tales of my geeky existence.