Guiness Gem

Don't Stop the Music

-Rihanna-

It's gettin’ late,

I'm making my way over to my favorite place

I gotta get my body moving shake the stress away

I wasn't looking for nobody when you looked my way

Possible candidate (yeah)

Who knew

That you'd be up in here lookin like you do

You're makin' stayin' over here impossible

Baby, I must say your aura is incredible ...

If you dont have to go, don't

Do you know what you started?

I just came here to party

But now we're rockin on the dancefloor

Acting naughty

Your hands around my waist

Just let the music play

We're hand in hand

Chest to chest

And now we're face to face

I wanna take you away

Lets escape into the music

DJ let it play

I just can't refuse it

Like the way you do this

Keep on rockin to it

Please don't stop the music.

Baby, are you ready cause its getting close

Don't you feel the passion ready to explode

What goes on between us no one has to know

This is a private show (oh)

Do you know what you started

I just came here to party

But now we're rockin on the dancefloor

Please don't stop the Music.

Galway Guiness

Okay, so I’m not Irish, but don’t let that stop you!

Like I need any more drama in my life, right? As much as I keep swearing I don’t go looking for it ... it finds me all the same! No matter where in the world I “hide” ...

I spent my Christmas holidays in the home of my heart – the Emerald Isle. It was supposed to be restful and relaxing, good times spent with my family and friends, in my beloved Ireland. As an added bonus, Aoirish was also home - and we had grand plans to run Galway ragged with a bit of spice all the way from Malaysia.

So there goes the restful and relaxing holiday and hello to drunken debauchery!

I wasn’t looking for anything. I had packed up my life in Holland. I had put the Philosopher behind me, but I certainly wasn’t ready for anything else. And was not really expecting anything else, with me being due back in Malaysia in less than a fortnight. Maybe a little flirtation – I wouldn’t say no to a little kiss under the Mistletoe (Especially if he were Irish!) but nothing else. Besides, my vow of celibacy kicks off in 2008 – and no time like starting a resolution like the present!

Delighted to have me in her hometown, Aoirish had planned a big night out (what else is new!). Most importantly, she wanted me to meet her new man ... O, who she met bizarrely, through her childhood friend and neighbour, Connor. She mentioned something about this guy (Connor) being “in the arts”, but I was barely listening – so excited was I just to be there, out on the tear in Galway town!

We got to the bar, the girls were a laugh and I was having a blast – in my element around the very Irish crowd. O was a bit on the quiet side ... he shook my hand and went back to talking to the lads. Connor, on the other hand, seemed a bit intrigued, but I wasn’t really thinking too much of it. In a mere 6 months, I’d become well used to the admiring glances, incredibly confident now that if I was somewhere in Europe, it would be me that men wanted to talk to.

I hope my friend Maria is right, and that I would be taking all this magnetism back with me. Two other guys soon came up to get my attention, and I turned away from the group to entertain them.

However, for some reason, I kept being drawn back, for a bit of a chat with Connor, now and again. He was so not my type – I like the tall, floppy haired lanky pretty boy myself (Peter Crouch comes to mind, but I usually go for the better looking of them). Being short (yes really! With both of us sans shoes, he is still only a couple of inches taller than me. At a stretch, I’d say 5’8”), well-built and tough guy type bald, it really was his dazzling personality that had me coming back for more.

(Bald! Really!)

I started to realise how long his eye-lashes were, beautifully sooty black to frame the dreamiest of blue eyes (Eyes always get me). He had the sexiest accent and the nicest laugh. He was sweet, and funny, and just so easy to talk to. Without realising it, instead of just fluttering around the men in the bar, I started to stay longer and longer right by his side.

Later he would confess, in that delightful Irish accent, how he was hoping - from the minute he saw me walk in with Aoirish, that I’d come and talk to him.

I can’t really recall how or why, but we did seem to be attracted to each other. (Aoirish later told me how he said to her pretty much as soon as he saw me that he was attracted to me. Okay, the actual words – in Irish – was that he was hot for me. I take the compliment, thank you, and would return it much later ...)

I thought he was with some other girl, but it became evident that she was only trying to chat him up. He seemed to only have eyes for me. Who was I to disappoint the poor lad? So when she left - I sat myself down on her seat. I tried to find out if they were together by saying something along the lines of how I’d better go or else she’d be gunning for me.

Grabbing my hand, he smiled into my eyes. “No, please stay.” It didn’t escape my notice that he didn’t let go, holding my hand under the table in a very high school way!

She did come back, but when it was evident Connor didn’t want me leaving his side, she just looked disgruntedly at me, and asked for him an autograph.

The look of shock on my face must have been priceless. Who was this guy?! He swatted away my questions, but Aoirish reminded me she told me he was an actor. Later ... my brother, who wouldn’t have a clue – also, recognised him.

First a Baron, now and an actor? Next one had better be Prince William!

Later, there was a girl celebrating her, as being the “celeb” in the crowd, Connor was pushed to go give her a birthday kiss. He reluctantly left my side with a wry “this is the price of fame” smile. When he came back, I read the look as “I’d rather be kissing you,” so I said, “Where’s my kiss?” (I have no idea how I am so confident these days, I swear.)

And he did. He may have looked like a tough man you don’t mess with, but he was this sweet, lovely, funny guy that seemed to adore me. And his kiss was exactly just like him – lovely, soft and romantic. I was being drawn in – his charm was very slowly, demolishing all my defences, all my resolutions ... everything. He was attentive, he was lovely, and I just thought what the hell –

It didn’t stay at just the one night. We saw each other the whole time I was in Galway ... and kept in touch even when I went back to Dublin. The test remains now that I’ve crossed the globe to get back home for the foreseeable future if this will get me somewhere.

He said he’d come out to see me in April. I’m back in Eire in June. The possibilities really are endless ... but meanwhile, I'm still on the lookout for Heat or Now to see if we made the Irish tabloid pages.

Daquiri Dutch Dating

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies

I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size

But when I start to tell them

They think I'm telling lies.

I say

It's in the reach of my arms

The span of my hips

The stride of my steps

The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally

Phenomenal woman

That's me.

-Maya Angelou-

Something I said off the cuff the other day struck a chord within me. I have dated more guys in my 6 short months here than the whole of 4 years in KL put together. And yet, I’m in the same position now. (Still) Single, and Disappointed! Perhaps it doesn’t matter if you’re having an active dating life or not … the truth is, when you’re meant to meet the One, you will, and not one day before, regardless of how many notches on your belt you rack up.

Speaking of notches, after the Philosopher, I’ve decided to take a vow of celibacy. Honestly. Next time I decide to be with someone in that way … he’d better be the One. (Or at the very least, very hot. :P) At least I’m going to be (more!) discerning from now on. Dr. Dish/Dr.Dense from now on, for example, is never, ever getting his hands on me again. EVER. Please remind me if I ever get desperate in KL.

Anyway, back to my Dutch experience with Dating. I have enough stories to fill a whole new blog/book – but I’ll give you the summary here, picking out the juiciest of them all.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please

And to a man

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees

Then they swarm around me

A hive of honey bees.

I say

It's the fire in my eyes

And the flash of my teeth

The swing of my waist

And the joy in my feet.

It has been a weird experience to me… I’d almost forgotten how being different makes you more desirable. I remembered it from my days in England, but after being back in Malaysia for so long, it was so long repressed, that it almost took me by shock. I walk into a room, and (if it’s predominantly Dutch…) I get more attention than any of my other (very much hotter, thinner, etc) mates (who are mostly paired up anyway, and would not be interested, it must be said!). I’ve been asked for my number – and to my utter shock, they always seem to call. And ask to see me again.

First guy in fact, was not the Philosopher, but this guy who looked like he should be on Baywatch. Complete with shaggy blonde hair, and ice blue eyes, the Surfer Dude took all our breaths away. He was the waiter at the bar we went to on our first Friday night here, as part of the getting to know each other session. All the girls at the tables were making goo-goo eyes at him, but to my utter shock, despite the cool eyed blonde from South Africa, the cheery Brazilian beauty or the darkly dangerous Portuguese chica, it was ME he lavished his attentions on, it was MY phone number he asked for, it was ME he called the very next day and asked out.

Thankfully, I was still in my Malaysian mind-set and was wary. I didn’t think it was a date – and maybe he did, but he included 2 other women on this date as well! Almost amused, and certainly, not at all surprised (but Surfer Dude is too cute for any woman to get annoyed with) I was just about to leave the party when a happy jolly bouncing bundle of light barreled through the masses to get to me. He had the bluest eyes, shining in the setting sun, and a big head of golden curls. Those cherubic lips looked painted on, and the smile, completely infectious. I was taken in an instant. His first words to me, as he stuck out his hand cheerily in my face was “Hello, I’m the Philosopher”.

Just like the man, happy, simple and direct. Hello, I want to know you.

The rest is history. I really did meet my man my first weekend here, though it was a bit slow to get off the ground. There is no contest, the Philosopher wins hands down. I did meet the best at the start of it all … unfortunately, as the sun set on this romance; I went back to dating the frogs.

There was my Scottish Stalker, immediately after. He was an absolute nightmare! Despite the fact I met him the very night me and the Philosopher broke up, he was undeterred in chasing me. When it turned out that despite the fact I was vulnerable, and hurt, I still wasn’t about to let him get into my pants … he turned nasty. I hope I never see him again, or ever hear that gawd-awful Glaswegian accent ever again.

My friends will never forget the story of how he absolutely attacked me en route to the loo. I was determined not to kiss him, not to even touch him. Lulling me into a false sense of security by taking me to the pub to watch the football, he was talking about nothing as he got up to excuse himself to the loo. I barely glanced up at him, engrossed in the game. All I remember was him saying "But first, I'm going to -" and he planted one right on me. I was too shocked to react, and truth be told, only kissed him back to be polite.

Eugh! Can't move on past this weirdo fast enough!

Then theres the infamous Baron – an actual member of the Dutch aristocracy who turned out to be an absolute toad in Prince Charming dress. From meeting him pre-Philosopher romance and almost having to be scraped off the floor (he made me so weak at the knees!). That smile (his mother was an actual French model), the height (he modestly claimed to be “average” – for the men in Holland, that’s like 6’3”!), the fact he admitted to having the Dirty Dancing soundtrack in his car … I thought he MUST be the One.

There were complications, my flatmate saw him first, I was having too good a time with the Philosopher to think about anyone else, titled or not. Then the Baron morphed into a pure and utter arsehole. Or maybe he was finally displaying his true colours?

Whatever it is … I definitely dodged a bullet there! It would be a day too soon if I ever saw those flashing pearly whites again.

Finally, there was this nice guy who had a lot of potential, but for the fact he still had a girlfriend in Australia – a fact he only revealed to me after a night of buying me drinks and acting like a free agent. Still, as long as he just wined and dined me, and nothing more, I was happy (enough!) to get to know him better – or rather, let him get to know me better. (Plus, he had incredibly gorgeous friends!)

Until he became totally Dutch and wanted us to GO Dutch on our last “date”.

I’m definitely moving on from this one. And from Holland in general. I’ve decided, enough is enough, and I am happy to leave here. The memories are great, the lessons have been learnt and taken to heart, but I do feel like the sun has set on this place for me too.

And yes, I’m returning home, as Single as the day I left. But like I said in my previous post, I feel complete again. Holland has been so good for me personally, that I could never have foreseen this. I’m myself again. I’ve regained my confidence, my self-belief, and my hope in a brighter future. I’m certainly not that bitter broken shell of a whimpering girl that Rex and the Singaporean Slut forced out of London. I am, the London Vixen again, and hopefully, despite my return to Malaysia, I will not let her get too far under her Lair that she forgets who she is or what she is capable of.

For I believe, she really is, Phenomenal!

I say

It's in the click of my heels

The bend of my hair

The palm of my hand

The need for my care. '

Cause I'm a woman

Phenomenally

Phenomenal woman

That's me.