Chardonnay Charlatan

"Its ok to kiss a fool, its ok to let a fool kiss you, but never let a kiss fool you!"

With recent events concerning the Chappie and Ash and men of their nature, I realise now, more than ever that one must learn to kiss many a frog before one meets her Prince. However, I do believe I’ve had more than my share of toads – warts and all!

One of the chief toads has to be the Chardonnay Charlatan. We met – as usual, at a glitzy dinner. In our line of work, there are plenty of events for drinking and merry making. And the guest list is absolutely crawling with smooth talking, suave individuals. Unfortunately, usually as good looking as they were charmers - there were very few genuinely nice ones among them!

As this night happened a while back, when I was young (er) and innocent (not really!). I had been on the prowl for my crush at the time - the Aging Lothario. As his name suggests, he was one of those more experienced (read to mean, older), smooth talking Casanova types that a young(er!) me – fresh faced and still idealistic, had fallen headlong in lust with.

Needless to say, he was bad news, but that’s a story for another day. I must say that he’s that’s the kind of bad news every girl likes having in her life … now and again. It spells danger and excitement. Also, because of such supreme good looks, one would never call him a Toad. Tall, dark and handsome, with come-to-bed eyes and a still young face matched up with a body to die for … lets just say there were no warts in sight. (Whether or not I had a proper look … is also, a story for another day.)

Too bad I’ve gotten older and wiser.

Anyway! There I was all dolled up in my Jolie-esque dress and MAC mask … ready to rock and roll. When the Lothario was nowhere to be found, I refused to waste the Pretty! After all, I was my stunning best, and there were plenty of other fish in the sea.

The low-neckline was probably more suitable for the Hollywood red-carpet (and the likes of Ms. Jolie!), but I’d convinced myself I could pull it off, with the help of my favourite party friend, vino. There is a side story here when I met up with my friend, Pixie, who despite sporting a more Posh Spice or Paris Hilton look (i.e. skinny stick insect!) had the renowned "tit-tape" in her possession. Something I desperately needed with the slashed-to-the-navel so called "dress" I was not quite wearing.

Once Pixie taped me down, I skipped out of the loos, back to party, secure in its hold. Who do I bump into, but Mr. Darcy himself who was scowling into his whiskey, alone in a corner.

He answered my (polite) greeting with a characteristic grunt. Then for reasons that were completely beyond me, he proceeded to grasp at straws to make conversation. Think along the lines of "Read any good books lately?"

Secretly delighted, I was having none of it. I had already met more than one bloke that evening who were clamouring for my attentions (of course, the dress had everything to do with it!) so I was feeling rather superior, you see. Trying to suppress my glee at his sudden attentions, I looked haughtily down my nose at him and sashayed past.

When I joined my table and reached to take a bite out of the appetiser in front of me, I realised in horror, that the tit tape, though dutifully stuck to my chest, had not grasped the material of the dress along with it. So I’d been talking to Mr. Darcy the whole time with two white plasters stuck to my chest for his full view and entertainment pleasure.

Add to that, my further humiliation when I found out much later that, Pixie, my so called good friend, and Mr. Darcy, were probably having their own "friends with privileges" arrangement at this point.

Yes, definitely, bring on the vino!

Many glasses on, I found myself cornered by an Octopus. Usually, he would’ve been just my type – all 6’2" tall, dark and well built. However, the heavily (obviously) put on British accent was unbearable. I’d come back from England after a decade and I didn’t have one! The Octopus had been there barely a year, and he was pretending to be Mancunian? Give me a break!

He wasn’t taking my thinly veiled hints to heart. It became increasingly difficult for this 5 foot nothing Vixen to escape his clutches in a socially acceptable manner. Just when I thought I’d have to shove him off with all the force I muster, in full view of my professional brethren, a taller than the average Malaysian, not so dark and handsome young man smoothly stepped in between us, to my rescue.

He turned to me with big seemingly sincere eyes, all concerned, playing the part of the White Knight. "I apologise for my colleague, he’s had one too many," he said properly, easily moving in where the Octopus had left off. Oh this was a Smooth Operator alright, but don’t think I was fooled!

He took my hand in a chivalrous fashion and introduced himself politely. His next words were, "May I just say wow?" (I noted he looked right in my eyes as he said it, not anywhere south-bound.) Holding on to my hand longer than decorum allowed, he continued charmingly, "That is some dress you’re wearing." (Points for honesty here!)

What did I tell you about suave, smooth talking individuals? I couldn’t help but be flattered. Do you blame me? Not only had he played Knight-In-Shining-Armour, he said the exact right thing. I know it was a line, but it was all in the delivery … and the Chardonnay Charlatan delivered very well indeed!

To make a long story short, we hooked up. Yes, it was quick, but hey, we were both liquored up, he was charming, and I was willing! I had actually heard of the Chardonnay Charlatan before, he was certainly making waves in his line of work. His (professional) reputation was impressive and I had no idea he was so young. Or good looking.

Or tall.

He took my card, and promised he’d get in touch. Though I didn’t really believe him, I’m ever the optimist. I hope the many knocks I keep getting in life don’t ever take this quality away from me. The Charlatan tried persuading me to go home with him – of course! I’d have been insulted had he not at least attempted it!

Thankfully, I had enough sense to resist. We got further than I’d like to remember on the dance floor … (maybe we should’ve gotten a room after all!) I’d convinced myself there were no witnesses.

So much for not wanting not to embarrass myself in front of my colleagues. Guess that flew out with window with me flashing Mr. Darcy earlier that evening!

But when the club was about to close, I decided it was time to make a graceful exit. (too little, too late!) and excused myself.

The Charlatan grinned at me in disappointment, but by now he’d already known I wasn’t going home with him (Yes, I have been known to demonstrate some willpower from time to time …). He let me leave the room … and just as I was making my way up the stairs, I heard my name being called out. Blinking twice, I turn back and to see the Charlatan running to catch up with me.

But he wasn’t alone.

He was with a young woman, casually dressed, so she couldn’t have been there for the dinner. I believe he told me she was his sister, but I cannot be sure. He put me in a cab, ever the gentlemen, while the young woman and I eyed each other suspiciously.

What can I say - we were right to be suspicious. What sibling comes and picks you up at 4 am in the morning after a night out anyway? Despite the fact he’d gotten in touch with me the very next day … I’d also found out she was in NO WAY related to him … and most likely, the girl he refuses to acknowledge as his girlfriend.

Bah! What else is new? I found the perfect quote to end this post. Its off my favourite character from Sex and the City:

"Men cheat for the same reason dogs lick their balls: because they can."

-Samantha Jones-

Needless to say, I share Sam's sentiment.

Tequila Triangle

-"Reality is an illusion caused by lack of alcohol"-

Actually, more like a pentagon. Let me try to summarise. I like Chappie. Chappie may or may not fancy me, but the fact remains, he has a girlfriend. Or at least his friends keep telling MY friends that he does.

No one, least of all Chappie, has told me.

So that’s 2 sides of my pentagon shaped romantic disaster.

Then there’s Lord. He liked me a lifetime ago … and may or may not still have feelings for me. I seriously doubt it though. I never had romantic feelings for him, though I will admit, it’s the first time I ever heard the words “I love you” from a guy. And he said it very sweetly too. So much so, I’ve never forgotten it.

So then Aoirish tells me she’s always kind of fancied him. Ever since I introduced them. However - it does seem he just likes her as a friend. But why then am I so tetchy when they hang out without me? Is it my psychotically jealous tendencies raising its ugly head(s)?

As CJ will tell you … Vixen doesn’t share friends. (You know, like Joey doesn’t share food?). I do have a possessive streak, and like I don’t like my peas touching my mash … I don’t like my friends mixing without me.

Or do I want Lord for myself?

Then there’s the Metro … who fancies Aoirish. BUT – surprise, surprise, the Metro has a girlfriend too. He doesn’t mind playing around with Aoirish, but at the end of the day, he is someone else’s boyfriend. You see why men are jerks? The BOTH of them – Chappie AND the Metro, told us, to our faces, POINT BLANK – did they not tell us they were SINGLE?

Did they not?! You are our witnesses!

Also available! (And could they please have our numbers so we could hang out more? Hint hint, nudge nudge, wink wink …) I’m just waiting for the day Chappie admits it to me so I can sock it to him.

Sock it to him or jump him, I haven’t quite decided. (He is still lovely looking with bottomless brown eyes that scream of lust)

Remember how I was musing just how for us to have met two hot single young men in this day and at our age was just too good to be true?

Well, I was totally right. It was. Welcome to the wonderful world of Singletons.

DAMN it.

I think this has all culminated in on our recent Paddy’s night celebrations. At some point in the evening, I disappeared from the group with Chappie … but only to where his other friends were sat outside the bar, sharing a bottle. Nothing (unfortunately!) happened … but since we disappeared in the same direction … then returned, together, 2 hours later from the outside … people jumped to the natural conclusion.

I WISH! Not even a peck! (And before you condemn me for fancying another woman’s man, in a very Singaporean Slut-like manner – I HAD NO IDEA!)

In retrospect, I guess this is why he acted all detached and gave his attention to the group of skanks that were worshipping at his feet the minute we came back in. Me, drunken and rejected, couldn’t help but say the word “skank” one time too many, and one time too loudly.

How was I supposed to know they were good friends with Lord … and Lord’s best friend Bart’s cousins?

I actually really like Bart. As in totally platonically, and no, I honestly don’t fancy him at all. But I really enjoy talking to him. He, unlike the other boys, has no issues. He’s got a quiet confidence and inner strength that commands respect. He’s intelligent, with the sharpest wit and the easiest to get on with.

And now he probably hates me.

I think I’ve ruined things totally with the boys. Lord’s not talking to me. I haven’t heard from Bart since … and as for Chappie? Well last I saw him; he’d unceremoniously dumped me at my car at the end of that night …. I’ve not heard hide nor hair from them.

Damn alcohol!

- When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it, and hang on.-

Thomas Jefferson

Flaming Fate

Freak of Fate or Date with Destiny?

"Everything comes too late for those who only wait."

-Elbert Hubbard-

There was this freakish forward sent to me today. I don’t know if any of you know which one I’m talking about. It’s titled "The Chinese Horoscope" and it’s chillingly accurate. Without scrolling down, you’re meant to answer a series of questions and then at the very end, it explains what each answer means for you personally.

When asked to list down 2 separate people at 2 separate numbers, I’d put down Chappie (who’d I’d been seeing a lot of since we met – no romance as yet, but I’m having a blast, and that’s most important thing, right? Besides, 5 times in a week for people who'd just met has to be some kind of record, don't you think?!) and of course, Mr. Darcy. Then later on, I was asked to list down 2 songs. I soon discovered, each song corresponded to each guy.

For Chappie, I was told this is a new relationship that may bring me happiness and his corresponding song was "Pour Que Tu M’aimes Encore". (Il Divo, of course!) Roughly translated, it means "For you, I’d love again." (I got a Bien! on my last French test!) As for Mr. Darcy – well – his song was "Buttons" ("You keep fronting, saying what you’re going to do to me, but I ain’t seen nothing.") and I was told – this is a relationship that would never work.

Well! That be the end of that, methinks!

Mr. Darcy has been having a rough time of it lately, and all and sundry know why. However, my pride stands in the way of me picking up the phone and asking him how he is. I don’t want to be just another googly-eyed gossip, which is probably how he’d view me, seeing as I haven’t so much made contact with him in a year. (Neither has he attempted to get in touch with me … on his own accord, that is!) But yes, my heart goes out to him and it must have been a terrible past couple of months especially.

But it is my experience that the Mighty only fall so far. I think this is a mere glitch that he’ll pick himself right up again, and dust off the flack soon enough. However, I do hope this episode and his fall from grace may finally peel the blinkers off his eyes and see his fair weathered friends for what they really are. The girls, especially – the Tart (of Malicious Mai Tai fame) & Gang, who were only too happy to throw themselves at him when he was in power … will they be around to pick up the pieces when he needs someone?

I can answer that right now. No bloody way. You see, the snakes he surrounds himself with are only after what he stands to offer them – the allure of all that power and might of his surname, the polished background and ticket to a luxury lifestyle. If you take away the bottomless pockets, the last name, and the posh car – would they even look at you twice?

More than all that, or perhaps, despite of that (I cannot deny - I do like the car!) - I like him for the fact Mr. Darcy knows (and read!) who Enid Blyton is (though Noddy has to be my least favourite character!). He can converse intelligently about literature (always a plus in my book). He can quote Shakespeare. He recognises Byron. We even support the same football team – how right is that! (Perhaps he’d not have the same sympathy for my poor Crouch, and yes, I can’t blame him! But once a Red … always a Red!)

Above all, we bonded over our common longing we still have for our lives waiting for us back in London. Malaysia is the home of our families, where we will always be so and so’s son and daughter … but we made London ours. No last names or family help.

Solo effort. An effort we both take pride in.

Perhaps we both really don’t want to do what our parents have mapped out for us, but are stuck in this career path just the same. You fear you will never live up to your family reputation, and I fear I lack the gumption and the courage to ever succeed.

We’d lived in the same places, went to the same schools – just never really met each other until we returned home to Malaysia. Perhaps the time was not right, not yet … or perhaps it’s never going to be right?

Only Time will tell … but from where I sit, the sand is fast passing through the hourglass.

"Take a chance, to recognise, that all of this, could be yours."

– "Buttons", PCD-

Cuervo Crush

I Met Someone!

I feel like shouting it from the rooftops – even though there’s been no real action. But it’s been so long since a girl meets a boy that she likes and he likes her right back.

Now, I don’t know if he likes me back … but for now the signs are good! Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen … looks like I have a crush!(What else is new!)

It was a mutual friend’s birthday party held last week. Aoirish and I were at our glamorous best … and to our delight, when we spotted the Birthday Boy, Lord - his table had just one other female in attendance. Along with about 10 hot trendy KL-lites of the male persuasion. Aoirish and I had to hold ourselves back from grabbing on to each other’s hands and dancing about with glee.

Michael Flatley style!

We had to keep from shrieking our ecstasy, and go into friendly but not too slutty mode. Very comfortable at our corner of the table, we sandwiched Lord – who – I’ll now admit for Aorish sake - is actually quite gorgeous. There were two guys each on the other side of us. (Thank you, Lord!) One suave metro-sexual Chinese boy in a figure hugging (and strangely enough, plunging neckline) black top and a cheeky chappy type young man of indiscernible race in the ever-successful white shirt and blue jeans combo. Sigh, feel my heart go pitty pat. (or feel my heart, full stop! Down, girl!)

I wasn’t fussed, as either were prime specimens of Man!

Before long, the Cheeky Chappie started listening in to our conversation and laughing at my jokes. I knew the Metro was giving me the eye and saying all the right things too, but one look at those bottomless brown eyes (Chappie), and I was sunk. Willing Aoirish to take hold of the Metro for me … I tried to concentrate my attentions on just the one.

After a quick toilet break where Aorish and I deliberated the game plan, we came back to the table to put it in motion. Like we hadn’t given it a seconds thought, Aoirish dutifully plonked herself down next to her designated guy and I had my big brown eyes all to myself. Aoirish really is a girl after my own heart. I find it so amazing that we’d only known each other a year, we gel together so seamlessly. One thing I miss MOST about the UK (besides available TALL guys!) is like-minded girlfriends. (Like minded meaning drink, dance and dudes.)

It was like child’s play. Men can be easy too, sometimes. (I said SOMETIMES!) Chappie didn’t even blink. The boy knew an opportunity when he had one. He immediately slid closer to me, cornering me so that he was the only one within my eye-view. He put his arm around the back of me in that, I’m not moving too fast, I’m just relaxed, kind of way. The nerves in his expressive eyes gave him away, though. He gave me his undivided attention. Check. He made sure I gave him mine.

Do I sound like I minded? Who’s playing who, player?

He was certainly a looker. I'm so shallow, I know! I go for the pretty boys, EVERY TIME. Big liquid eyes (you know how I’m a sucker for those!), lovely curly locks …. And when he stood, I nearly wept with delight. He was TALL! (sorry, CJ!)

Chappie was a breath of fresh air. The minute he established interest, he’d asked about my status (single! And very available if you’re asking, Chappie!), if I weren’t averse to dating Malay men (religion may be a problem, but not at the moment. Besides, I practise a non-discriminatory approach!) and if he could have my number. (Yes! Yes! Most definitely, without a doubt - yes!)

THANK YOU, God. For proving that Malaysia does have some perfectly normal guys who don’t turn into arrogant tossers or puddles of mud with no in between.

We spoke, we flirted, we laughed, and we drank. I think he’s LURVELY. And did I mention good-looking? AND TALL.

Please God, don’t forget the Tall.

Chappie and I spoke at length, despite being in a crowded group, we’d exchanged lots of information … I told him things I very rarely tell even my own friends, let alone strangers I’d just met. But he inspired such confidence. When we said goodbye, he’d hugged me (guess goodnight kisses in polite society in front of other people in this country is a no go, but I wouldn’t have minded in the least!) and told me, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And surprise, surprise, HE DID!

And I’m seeing him tonight at the Metro’s CNY party

!