Heineken Hussy

No one understands my "pseudo" relationship (as I like to call it) with Dr. Dish. Least of all me. (Guys have a clue though – here’s a girl that never says no – too good to be true? Not really, I am living proof! Just to the one, though.)

Why is terminology so important anyway? This much is clear - we are NOT in a relationship. He’s not made any promises (hence he can’t break them. I like this part), I don’t hold him to any obligations, nor am I obliged to him. There are no emotions involved, hence there is no need for a commitment. As yet.

Is that so hard to get?

Evidently so. Most of the time, I’m pretty relaxed about the whole thing. Why should I chase him for a commitment when I’m not even sure I want one myself? I laugh when people say he’s using me. Puh-lease! I’m getting my roll in the hay too! And I have enjoyed (almost) every ride – so to speak. However, there are times the green-eyed monster does raise its ugly head and I feel the need to clamp down on the shameless hussies clamouring for his attention and scream, "Hands off, Ladies, he’s MINE."

But he wasn’t. Okay, here’s where the waters get murky. I guess I see the need for definition after all. But I am well aware I have no exclusive rights over Dr. Dish. However, we have a (tacit) system that’s easy enough to understand. If ever the two of us were in a room together, whether or not we arranged it, we were together. I wouldn’t disrespect him by flirting or getting off with anyone else (no matter how hot!) and I would expect the same for him. I can live without love, but I demand at the very least, mutual respect, if not affection.

Enter the Heineken Hussy. No doubt she’s known him since diapers. (Okay, high school). Upon first glance, she hardly seemed threatening. Mistake #1. Never underestimate your competition, no matter how they looked on the outside. Remember the age old adage Never judge a book by it’s cover? In this case, she came to Zouk in ca-pa-lang (dark) blue denim jeans (unfashionably baggy!) a pasar type white baby tee and an old lady bag … and OMG, yes, it was white plastic looking sneakers fit for primary students playing badminton.

My Carrie Bradshaw soul cringed at the sight. Blahniks, they weren't. (Not even Vincci!) But after the stunts she pulled that day, I have now humbly learnt my lesson. No matter how these hussies look on the outside (they don’t always have to come in the LBDs and FMBs) – they always know how to play the game!

And they don’t play fair.

In this case, ironically, it was I that was in the LBD and come fuck me heels. All dressed up and nowhere to go, in the end...

Dr. Dish had come to meet me, bringing along his high school friends. I was delighted! Admittedly, I was still holding up for a future relationship at this point and I was thrilled he was introducing me to the sacred circle. I took it as an almost-declaration. After all, Dr. Dish was always more of a man of action, and very few words. (these days almost none!)

Hussy was having none of it. Of course from the moment I saw them together, I knew she liked him. This is the case of most females when they catch sight of those big dreamy eyes, all the way up on that tall buff bod. (And in the case of these hussies, they jump up so fast-blink and you’ll miss it- when they hear the word "Doctor."). Dr. Dish really is clueless about how attractive he is, and I usually have to do the beating off with a stick. (Not that I let him know, of course!)

Let me set the scene. There we were, getting our groove on, by the side of the bar, just the two of us, despite his friends just standing around with their drinks. Let me digress for a bit here and wax lyrical about how thankful I am that the boy has rhythm (both in and out of the sack). I love dancing with him. Despite his height - while attractive to ME, even the simple act of holding hands is hard enough, let alone dancing. I can’t ever reach without him bending double or me going on my tiptoes. (Although he has this sweet habit of lifting me up and letting me stand on his feet when we kiss.)

I remember it well. I was looking up at him in open admiration, and he was looking affectionately down at me as we began intertwining against each other despite the fast beat. I was waiting for the first kiss – the sparks were in place, the romantic tension … it was only a matter of seconds.

I forgot one tiny not-so-INsignificant deet. Mistake #2. Heineken Hussy. Before one could say "Cheap Slut" – she’d barged right in between the two of us, breaking up our little embrace instantly. She looked at him all innocence and whined plaintively, "I want to dance with her," then turned to me with a look of triumph in her beady little eyes going, "I love your friend (me). I love the way she moves, so sexy with all that hair, and that body and those moves (please, hand me the puke bag now. How transparent was that!) I want to dance with her!" and with that, Dr. Dish laughed and let her to it. Obviously not too transparent to this obtuse man!

This Vixen wasn’t fooled. As politely as I could, I walked away at the first opportunity. (Shoved her away, more like.) But as she’d achieved her purpose, Dr. Dish was no longer wrapped all around me, so she continued on the dance-floor in her glee. To my delight, I saw Dr. Dish sat by the bar, pouring the Chivas. I happily made a bee-line for him, and we had maybe 5 minutes before the Hussy had come over to us on the pretext of wanting a fag.

Now, since I don’t smoke, obviously, it wasn’t me who she came to talk to. As soon as he lit it for her, instead of politely leaving us to it, in fact, she sidled closer to him. Right in between us!!! I couldn’t believe what was happening. It was like a train-wreck in slow motion, and I saw it coming and yet I couldn’t do anything to stop it. There I was, standing right in front of him, while she was – OMG, she was not….

Yes, she was. SAT. On his LAP. My Dr. Dish!!! I couldn’t believe the cheek!!! Dr. Dish gave me a helpless look and held up his hands for me to see they were nowhere near her, but it didn’t make things any better. There nestled in his crotch was the Heineken Hussy, puffing away at her cigarette, in between MY Man’s thighs.

How would ANY woman react, I ask you!

God, I so wanted to give her 2 black eyes to see in the new year, but remembering his psychotic ex girlfriend, I didn’t want him to think he’d ended up with another Psycho Siren. So I held my head up high, and actually stood my ground. I don’t know if I should be shouted at for this act of stupidity, or it should be admired. I actually stood around in the immediate vicinity, chatting to his friends around us, all the while feeling like a fool, because anyone looking at them now would think THEY were the happy couple.

Aloof, Cool, Ice Queen. I kept chanting, determined not to let her win. But I'm afraid to say she did. There was only so much I could take, and I thought it was bloody disrespectful of Dr. Dish not to do anything. Finally, I reached my limit and stalked off without another word to him.

Not that he even guessed I was spitting mad, such was my dignified (I thought!) exit.

I found my friend, and insisted we leave. I guess I should mention it doesn’t end here. Once he cottoned on to the fact I was gone, and had not said goodbye (a bit slow, is our dishy doctor)- he came running after me.

Too little too late.

Que Hindi movie style drama. When he shouted to get my attention from the crowded entrance of Zouk, and I barely glanced at him, he seemed to think it was a brilliant idea to run across the crowded street. In fact, he almost got hit by a car – and here our Bollywood hero banged on the bonnet as he rushed towards me, calling out my name dramatically.

(I cannot believe these things actually HAPPEN in real life!)

And what did he say when he actually managed to grab me? Between the "Erms..." and "Aaahs" .... I did not hear an apology nor an explanation. (Words not being one of his strong suits.) Just a pleading look and an apologetic hug and telling me he’d call me and we’ll do something that weekend.

Unfortunately, I am (still) a sucker for those big dreamy eyes. Sue me. I'm only female, and my particular weakness (other than alcohol) is spelled "Dr.Dish".

Score 1 Heineken Hussy. Vino Vixen, nil.