moody meanderings

It's 9.30 on a friday night and I've already had two drinks. I'm ready for the next round even though my head is bursting from all that sinus snort business going on in my head mixed with alcohol. No night with the boys tonight. Just one boy. Looks like it will be an early night for me with the way my head feels. But I need that drink to make up for the rough week and a cold, cold week ahead in Beijing.

I'm much better today. Even went in to the office this afternoon. One of the guys at the office said I looked "much better". I didn't realise how bad I looked on Tuesday. I can almost breathe through my nose now. With some physical exercise, I actually breathe normally. I was at dance practice tonight. He didn't call. I resisted the temptation to call him but alas! I am not as strong-willed as I would like to believe I am. The voicemail picked up. I didn't leave a message. I hate leaving voice messages, especially when I sound even more nasal than usual. Instead, I sent him a lame text message. No response. I hope I didn't make him ill from spending time with me on Tuesday night. I'm rambling.

It is getting warmer. For the first time in days, I haven't got the heater on. My electricity bills must be hitting the roof this month.

OK, he called while I was mid-blog. He's home. Resting. Tired from too many long drunken nights. He's having a boys night out tomorrow, what was I doing? I'm having a boys night out, too. Just me and the boys. He will be tackling stage three of the MacLehose trail on Saturday morning with some of his male buddies, did I want to join them? Stage three of the MacLehose trail is one of the toughest, more rugged parts of that trail. Do I really want to be the sissy girl who holds the group back? Errr...thanks, but no thanks. Looks like we won't be spending any time together soon.

Guess I should quit whining, get into the shower and then to bed.

I'm sick. Again. I'm pretty sure it is a regular strain of influenza but what do I know. I haven't been to the doctor's because I can't see them doing anything for me that I can't do myself. I've already prescribed myself anti-histamines and given myself a day's sick leave today. In fact, I overdosed on anti-histamines last night just so I wouldn't be nose dribbling when he came around for the movie I cajoled him to stop by for. Three anti-histamines later, I was still dribbling. This morning, I woke up with a head full of snort. Felt like my head would burst. Not good. Tonight, I turned down ladies night with him. He thought it best that I rest and take care of my flu, yet he managed to sound disappointed when I decided to stay home. How sweet. On that note, I guess I should get to bed.

Did I mention I have a boyfriend? Probably not. That's because I don't really have one. What I have is a male companion whom I meet with for dinner, drinks and movies whenever I've been in Hong Kong. We engage in hand-holding and lip-pecking activities, but that's mostly all it's been. Maybe this is what romantic courtship is about. I've been so long out of the game that I wouldn't recognise romance if it bit me in the backside. Still, I can't help wondering where and when and how often the mind-blowing sex fits in. Or does that only happen on SATC and perhaps, in polygamous relationships? It's true we haven't seen each other all that much, but isn't that all the more reason to be jumping each other when we do? Afterall, what's the point of having a boyfriend you don't fuck?

In less than three weeks, I'll be meeting the young Brisbanian I've been IM-ing with since mid December. We'll be spending an entire weekend doing touristy things, salsa-dancing and drinking ourselves blind. I think, no, I know we're going to have a blast. He's handsome, charming, playful, and most important of all, he makes me laugh. Now, here's the rub: Do I tell my platonic boyfriend about young B? Should I invite him to join us? Do I even want that? I should probably talk to my platonic bf about our relationship. Like what are we, really? Are we even exclusive? And if so, exclusive what? Play buddies? Maybe I'm thinking too much. Or maybe I shouldn't limit myself to a companion I don't really know all that well. Maybe I need to slow down and for once, enjoy the ups and downs of a monogamous relationship.

"fucking my beautiful and sexy sister-in-law"...this key word search led to my page? Well, I know at least one person left this space very disappointed.

It's the first day of the lunar new year. Usually a day for visiting our elders, but my family has been so reduced in size that we only had one household to visit besides my mother's. So, I'm back at my mom's blogging with not much to say. It's hot. That's all I can think about. It is ten degrees Celsius in Hong Kong and thirty here. I would be happy with twenty. The heat is getting to me. That and plenty of food makes a nap so very tempting...

It's hot hot hot! I'm trying to remember that I'm grateful it isn't cold cold cold!

I've been wondering...is it possible to be "too available" to a man? Does being "available" to him take away the excitement of the chase? Should we always play games? Be coy? Play indifferent? Not interested? Not available? And if it really is all a game, what are the rules? Is there some place we can go to learn the rules? I hate games. I always lose. *sigh*

Well, happy lunar new year to all my chinese friends!

I've been back a week but been flat out with work and then trying to squeeze in some time for the dating game, too. I've been so long out of practice that I'm totally clueless now what the rules are. Thankfully, I'm off tonight to Singapore for the lunar new year holidays which takes the pressure off some. Plus, the weather in Hong Kong is just waaaay to cold and wet for my liking. Feels like I'm back in droll and dreary Parisian weather! I'll be so happy to be on the plane for warm and hopefully, sunny Singapore.

I should be getting to sleep now but I had a short cafe mocha from Starbucks at lunch and it is still buzzing in my blood. All the same, I shall endeavour to await sleep in the comfort and warmth of my bed and duvet. More from Singapore...

Back in Hong Kong. It's good to be home. Paris is not a place for single souls. Especially at this time of year when it is droll and drear. I spent most of the weekend at museums. In particular, the Louvre and Musee d'Orsay. I loved the later. There was a room full of Van Gogh's which got me in a whirl. So many Van Gogh's in one place! I couldn't believe my luck.

As for Salsa, I spent just one evening (or morning, which is more accurate) at a place outisde Paris. For an hour, I danced with just the guy who brought me there. Which was all of two dances as his girlfriend, a girl I know from HK, was also in Paris with him. Eventually, one lanky black guy after another asked for a dance. These guys from the West Indies were absolutely fabulous dancers. It was thoroughly enjoyable dancing with them. I think I was the only Asian in the room though the club was called "Chinagora".

So, I'm back in Hong Kong. I can't believe how thrilled I was to leave the beautiful "city of lights" for the garish neon lights of Hong Kong. The driving rain made parting easy. Not to mention the dinner date awaiting my return.

I arrived at six this morning and made it to the hotel at eight. It was still dark as night. The day finally dawned warm and clear at about nine. It was an unexpectedly beautiful day after a week of gloomy rainfall and sub-zero temperatures. Unfortunately, I was not able to enjoy any of this. The flight was rough at first. I occupied myself with reading and a movie which took me to nearly two in the morning, or nine in the evening CET. I was trying to adjust to Paris time to minimise jetlag. But some passengers and airline crew were determined to keep the rest of us on HKT. By half past one in the morning CET, passengers were stirring from their slumber as some inconsiderate ones who had gone to sleep as soon as we took off at midnight HKT were making a racket. At three, cabin lights were turned on as breakfast was prepared and served. So it was that when I got to my hotel room, all I could think of was keeping warm and getting more sleep.

I took a half hour nap and forced myself to remain in bed for another couple of hours, day dreaming. The heater wasn't working which made the covers so much more inviting than a shower after a long flight. I finally jumped into the shower at eleven and headed out for something to eat. Being just outside of Paris meant that most people do not speak English. This made finding a restaurant and ordering a meal a monumental challenge. I attempted to order a steak but received violent objections from the staff and owner to which I responded, "Je ne comprehend pas". More animated debate ensued and to end it, I picked another item I recognised to be grilled chicken. That choice was greeted with a sigh of relief. I nodded to "frite" for fries instead of trying to order baked potato, ordered a "salade verte" which I took to be green salad and pointed to a bottle of water I just purchased from the corner store for water. For butter, I gestured buttering the bread and nodded as she exclaimed what sounded like, "Ah, ber!" After brunch, I returned to my hotel room to take a conference call.

My room is a hole. When I arrive, the heater didn't work. The tv remote didn't work. The sink wouldn't drain. The shower had and still has no curtain so the floors are wet after a shower. The room barely accommodates a small double bed, a small table and a chair and two bedside tables which are really just two pieces of wood the size of a small telephone, nailed into either side of the headboard. The tv is suspended from the wall. It is no wonder I am homesick for Hong Kong. I am even wishing I hadn't extended my stay over the weekend!

Ah...Paris...the city of romance. Alas! Romance lies elsewhere for me.

He's quiet, he's charming, he's animated, he's shy, he's my kinda' guy. And he's drop-dead gorgeous!

We arranged to meet at the escalators on Hollywood Road at eight. I jumped into the shower at five! Was ready with ten minutes to spare so I turned on the tele. I didn't want to show up overly eager. I left ten minutes before eight and strode briskly towards our rendezvous place. As I approached our meeting point, I was suddenly gripped with a string of anxious thoughts: what if he doesn't show? why would he? what if he's just standing in a corner with his friends having a laugh at my stupidity? what if... And there he was, striding down the hill to meet me, hands in his pocket, sporting a black turtleneck sweater and tan corduroys. He looked devastatingly handsome with a shy smile on his face as if he half expected me not to show. We laughed at the awkwardness of our introduction and quickly made our way towards the restaurant. I was not the only nervous wreck at the party. We ate slowly, both putting our best face and manners forward. I ate like a bird. Not just because of nerves but because the "medium rare" rack of lamb was rare and and came with a blunt knife. I talked incessantly, about the fateful Friday night when I made a total ass of myself. I figured better me bringing up my silliness than him. He laughed, yes, he saw me fall off my seat onto the floor. Yes, he saw me running away from him when I spotted him again later. We stayed past closing time, reluctant to bring the evening to an end. He suggested adjourning someplace else for drinks. All good bars in SOHO were closed on Sundays so we found ourselves back where we "met". I suggested one of the German bars, thinking he would enjoy a bit of nationalism. Corny, I know. We stayed for a couple of drinks until closing before reluctantly getting off the bar stools and heading home. He left me at my doorstep and proceeded to head in the wrong direction for his home. Charmed.

On Saturday nights, the lobby bar at Kowloon Shangri-la features a diva trio called, the "Di Diamonds". Three very beautiful women with very different and distinct styles each, belt out a rich harmony of evergreens, jazz and Enya. Vivi, the leader of the band, reminds me of Marilyn Monroe with her sweet and playfully sexy voice and style. While Angel has a thick R&B crossed with blues vocals to die for. Mich, the only classically trained among the trio wows the audience with pieces from "The Phantom of the Opera" and Andrea Bocelli's "Time to Say Goodbye". Three weeks ago, I was invited by my church accompanist after the Christmas concert to listen to his co-musicians sing. I meant to stay for just one set before heading off to salsa but couldn't tear myself away until half past one. Yesterday, I went with another friend from church to listen to our friend on his last set before the girls came on. We made plans to leave for salsa after a couple of sets as I wasn't sure if he was a lobby bar type of guy. He was entranced. We didn't get away until well past their last set. Sadly, the group will be taking their gig to the middle east next month so there's only the rest of January to catch their act, complete with choreographed movements and all. Go check them out one Saturday night this month if you're looking for some classy 'live' music.

Finally, I have a date tonight. Nearly a blind date. Blue Shirt. That's all I dare say.

Last night, I decided to hang out with the boys as the girls were out of town or not up for anything. I hadn't had any food since breakfast so the beers and cosmos started kicking in real quick. It didn't help that I sighted a really cute guy in a blue shirt and he was checking me out right back. I was nervous so drank more. Went to dinner later and saw him at the other end of the table at Rat alley. He saw me. We smiled. One of the guys in my group asked me to write my number on a piece of napkin. I did. Later, tired of me not making any moves, he made as if to get up and deliver the napkin. I grabbed him, lost my hold on his shirt and fell back on my tush! Very undignified. If I weren't so drunk, I would have left right there and then. But I picked myself off the floor and teetered back onto my stool and got busy munching on veggies and averting my gaze. Some time later, guy with napkin went to the washroom and returned via Blue Shirt route, one napkin lighter. Blue Shirt, I am told looked over and waved. I had my head buried in another chap's shoulder, mortified. I finally peeked and caught his final wave and gorgeous smile as he left Rat alley. The boys were totally disappointed in me. Accused me of being all talk and no action. Hey, I have plenty of moves. I just can't seem to get into action when it concerns gorgeous men. So we returned to C-bar for more drinks to drown my disappointment. Took a turn around the block a couple of times looking for Blue Shirt. Returned to the boys to find I'd picked up a tail from the baguette shop I walked past. Guy apparently abandoned a good cinnamon roll to follow me. Found me at C-bar, casually walked by and said "hello". I returned "hey" and he stayed. We flirted. People were staring. I was becoming paranoid. It was bad enough the boys were giving me the eye, now I have all of LKF staring. Then one of my boys walked over and said hello to cinnamon-man by name, followed by a self-introduction. "You know him?" I asked, feeling like I'd been set up. "Yes, everybody does. Everybody who watches the news on TVB Pearl." Recognition dawned. So, that's why he looked familiar. It also explained why people were staring. Duh! A while later, the boys took their leave of us and headed for Wanchai. We hung out at C-bar a bit longer and then moved to Al's Diner. By then, sobriety was a distant memory. Actually, any memory was becoming distant. At some point, we kissed, I pulled up anchor and brought the ship home. The rest is fuzzy history.

First, happy new year to all! I spent my new year's eve at the said party and it was boring boring boring. The couple invited a bunch of single women to a new year's eve party with no single men in sight. Very sick indeed! So the dance gals left at half past eleven looking for some action for the countdown. There was no way we were going usher in 2004 around old nearly married sorts with their sad single women friends. We decided to go to one-fifth but lied to the couple that we had another party to go to. But one-fifth was fully booked. With nowhere to go and just fifteen minutes to the countdown, we jumped into a cab and decided to cruise past Lan Kwai Fong to see if we could make it in. The crowd snaked all the way along Queen's Road with no hope of ever getting into party zone for hours. So we dropped off at the Mid-levels escalator and half-ran all the way up to Staunton Street. We managed to get all but one drink before midnight so troupe leader was livid at the waitress that she didn't have a drink in hand to toast 2004 when it came. A little later, when she was calmer, we made our way out to the street to watch the merrymakers. Apparently, we were not the only ones people watching. A short guy eyeing the youngest woman in our group (of just twenty-one!), sauntered over and began to chat us up in Cantonese. He started out fine until he asked her to teach him Cantonese and asked how he might say, "Can I take you out to dinner?" I couldn't help blurting out just how totally cheesy that was. A mean way to kick-off the year but at least it was an honest start. As cheesy cantonese took his leave after several failed attempts to obtain the telephone number of our youngest dance troupe member, he struggled to recall our names. He could only remember one so the rest of us took our leave as Carrie, Samantha and Charlotte. An indication that we had overdosed on SATC earlier that evening at my place.

We soon got bored of that scene and moved to Klong in Wanchai. We were dying for some heart-pumping cardio action on the dance floor but it was too crowded for any sort of workout. We were about to leave when the youngest of us pulled out a camera. I couldn't believe it. Itwas something straight out of SATC! So we posed at the entrance, (or exit in this case) stairs for a photo of us foursome. A bunch of guys, one of whom I noticed checking us out stood nearby. Naturally, one of them offered to take the picture of us. I was talking to the guy who had checked us out and two minutes later, he was offering to buy us drinks. True to my adopted character, I ordered a Cosmopolitan. Two Cosmos later, we left Klong. It was three in the morning and the bankers had left just minutes before us. We decided to call it a night.

This morning, I stumbled out of bed at noon with a huge hangover. Now, that's the way a healthy young single woman/man in Hong Kong should be starting off their year.