I wonder how he is really like in person.

For the past 6-7 months, I nurtured this idea of him as a person who does not respect other people’s time. Managing to squeeze you in his tight calendar is his way of making you feel privileged, because, yeah, he’s one hot busy guy. So imagine my rage when he actually decided not to show up on our first date without properly informing me. Oh, he did. He texted a friend in Saudi, then Saudi friend texted my girl friend, and my girl friend had to relay the bad news to me. I was in the middle of the traffic jam already on my way to that resto…The jerk did not even bother to save my number.

I almost cursed that day and wished the earth would open up and swallow him in. Because if I ever see him, even just a strand of his hair, I’d be delighted to nuke him right where he stands. So he’d better not send a word, call or text because I would be spitting fire at him to my heart’s content.

I was angry. Really angry. I think he felt the tremor so he sort off disappeared from my radar.

But, as usual, time heals all wounds, and it makes you forget all those little sins. Sensing the storm was over, he made his presence felt a month ago. And because I don’t normally harbor any ill-feelings that long, I started becoming civil and managed to joke about his last year’s no-show. He seemed to be a nice guy, just like what his best friend told me. Looks like we’re bound to get along well after a pretty rocky start.

Who knows.

 

 

All I heard was the sound of the car stereo playing “Victims of Love” with its ear-piercing chorus. There were so many songs available in the entire pop music history I wondered why the jocks couldn’t choose a more suitable one to play. This was not the first time I heard that particular song play in Bloody’s stereo.

Maybe the song had a personal message had I only listened carefully instead of exchanging glances with Bloody behind the steering wheel.

This was the second Joyride. And the topic was Puppy. I never saw Bloody this excited over something that stoked his ego. It made him feel superior above all God’s creatures, including the squid. Nothing beats the thrill a man gets from squashing an opponent in a race to a woman’s heart. In Bloody’s case, he did not even have to lift a finger. It was I who sent Puppy off the ring already peeing in his pants.

Of course, Bloody wouldn’t dare mention his latest victory. He knew I easily get turned off by sheer arrogance. So he played it safe in a kind of reverse way. You know, like why not pick Puppy over him. He’s handsome, single and about to get rich. He seemed serious about making babies with me while he, Bloody, was already a very complicated family man with a string of girls willing to be knocked up anytime. He might even have AIDS. I belong to a different caste, he said. Like The Chastity Belt Club. It made him feel unworthy. I didn’t know that his testosterone had reached the pious level already.

But the mere thought of me dying a virgin distressed him. I might catch ovarian cancer, cervix cancer and all types of weird diseases attributed to unused reproductive system. But he swore on other people’s grave not to hold my hand either. The electricity the contact generates could mess up his brains and send alerts to launch that “baby arm” down there. So he made us a deal. Just in case I changed my mind about the postponed trip to The Flower Farm, he would gladly oblige me with a tour.

 

I punched his six-pack abs and the devil laughed.

I played this particular scene a hundred times over inside my head -that night when Bloody saw me with Puppy inside the mall. It was actually a deliberate move to be seen in a place we both frequent – to spite him, to show that I had a life apart from what he thought a mediocre way of living, and yes, to prove that he was that dispensable.

“You do not have the monopoly of girls in the planet.” I thought. “Because you can never have me. And I can have good-looking dates as well.”

Well said. But things were a lot more different in reality. The moment our eyes locked, my face was flushed crimson red and my knees started to wobble. I was no less than a meter away from the walking Kryptonite.

“Hi.” Bloody’s eyes were smiling under that brown cap. He came along smooth, so sure of himself, and my world stood still. This was the kind of guy who did not need some rescuing. And he could certainly ruin a date.

Somehow Puppy noticed the sparks flying above my head as Bloody quietly made his exit to the terminal. He sensed competition.

“Do you know that guy?” His brows wrinkled.

“Um. Yes. He’s a friend.”

“Really?” Puppy had crossed the line reserved for my dead father and future husband.

“Wait. Am I not allowed to have friends now?” I growled.

Puppy wiggled his tail in agreement, which was actually a bad sign. I didn’t like guys who do not have the balls to stand up for what they believe. Guys who severely lacked identity. I completely lost my appetite and felt sorry for Puppy. I knew it wasn’t his fault. But I was born with certain preferences. I wasn’t even normal to begin with.

I bade Puppy goodbye when we reached the mall’s exit. He still acted like a true gentleman no matter how embarrassing the night was for him. I wished him well on his trip back to the Middle East and lots of good luck in finding his daughter in Macau. Puppy was like a brother to me.

I reached the terminal and saw Bloody standing beside his blue-violet van with a lighted cigarette in between his fingers. He waved at me and smiled. He knew he had just won.