SQ 2
“Don’t you ever rope a guy into a
shopping spree,” Jojo looked at me, accentuated his words, and force-fed it
down my throat.
The
guys and I are sitting around at one of the many weddings that we’ve seemingly
gotten invited to for weeks on end. How am I supposed to date when I’m always
hopping from one city to another and alternating between my friends’ weddings
and work?
“Just promise me, that you will not
ask a guy to go shopping with you!” he finished off his beer and motions to Andy
to get some more, “Shas been whining for months about how I am so “inattentive”,
the girl wanted me to bring her to the mall to buy some things for our new
place and I complied, what’s wrong with that? Tell me, how is that
inattentive?”
“Maybe you could have stayed alert
the entire time and not wander off to the arcade,” Andy handed Jojo a new
bottle, “Look, what he did was stupid as fuck, but you really ought to spare a
poor guy from the misery of shopping.”
For
the past few years, out of pity, the guys have been providing me with a list of
dating tips. However, instead of a list of dos they tend to lean towards
prohibition. What’s worst is that each green light leans towards a fetishized idea of women, be it cooking,
cleaning or getting wine stains off of his shirt. Don’t we have maids to do
that? Or moms?
And yet, I listened on and on,
submitting myself to be brainwashed by a bunch of “bros”. Midway through the
party, I usually find myself dazed, as I mediate between the guys and the
girls. Thankfully there’s alcohol and my unnaturally high tolerance to
substances. But, when they are finally done indoctrinating me, all I want to do
is go shopping with a guy in tow.
Normalcy |
The ground beneath my feet is
comforting, clutching an empty airsickness bag, I scan for my new shopping
spree buddy. After half a century of trying, I finally attained a man who would
voluntarily accompany me on a shopping spree in duty free land. One part of me
believes that he is doing this out of pity. Another leans towards the idea that
he decided to show his appreciation after realizing how much mileage I’ve
earned in the past three years. While, the third part of me wants to ignore all
the warning signs and enter a blissful, yet dubious world where he fell in love
with me and offered to help me out as our first date. Yes, I am single and
delusional.
Maybe
this is a huge mistake? I tend to make them, quite a lot, especially when it
comes to men. Just when I decide to walk away and try to change to an earlier
flight I see him emerge from the plane in his uniform and matching luggage.
After years of desensitizing myself from falling into a perilous love affair
with a member of the cabin crew, I could see myself failing right at this
moment.
“Miss
Bunyamin, or is it Mrs.? My name is Jonathan, please call me Pete,” He asks,
playfully, and right then and there, I sense a desire to smack myself in the
bum for even considering him as a future lover.
“Nice
to meet you, Pete. But excuse me, Mrs.? Do you see a wedding ring?” I ask,
“And, on that note, why are you doing this?”
“Doing
what?” he looks puzzled, a look that he seemingly often opts for.
“Why
did you volunteer to help me look for my friend’s gift?”
“Well,
I saw that you were struggling and I-“ he starts explaining himself, “Maybe I
should refer you to the personal shopper at the airport.” I could hear him
sigh.
“There’s
a personal shopper?” I reply, quite disappointingly. Why can’t I just behave
and go with this beautiful plot? Goddamit, this clearly shows how incapable I
am of flirting or making friends with people above the age of ten.
“Nah!
I’m just messing with you,” he smiles.
“So,
you’re pitying me or…”
“I
have a few hours to kill before my next flight to Bali and I thought I could
help out, instead of lounging around, and anyways, my boss said that I could
use this gift card,” he hands me over a stack of vouchers prompting me to smile
goofily. If there’s one thing I love more than work, it’s shopping for free.
What was once a foreign land has become
my home. As a frequent flyer who lives in a rather remote country, I am always
subjected to fly to a port city. With time, I slowly learned the shops and the
pathways to enjoying those long layovers. I have chosen my favorite resting
spot on various ends of the terminal and taken a liking to particular more so
than others. We walk past one of them and I could hear my stomach growling.
“Why
are you crossing your fingers?” Pete continues to satre ahead, avoiding any
passerby who might bump into us. A few days away from the New Years, the
airport is always jam packed of commuters and tourists. Everyone needs to be
somewhere on time or they are doomed to spend the next year in agony. As a
woman who much prefers her solitude, I have endured the past few New Year Eve
by cursing at the fireworks and avoiding the parties. I confess that I have
been hiding underneath my blanket in some obscure hotel room, whilst people get
drunk, kiss each other and subsequently pass on STDs to one another. It truly
is a vicious cycle, which reminds me to pick up some oral dams along the way.
“Umm…
where’s the drugstore, again?”
“You
mean the pharmacy?” he’s still looking ahead. What is wrong with this guy? Is
he so afraid of people? I nod, too turned off to give my all. Pete points
towards a shop, framed by blue-green lights. I walk over quickly, tightly
holding on to my luggage.
“Maybe
you should wait here,” I say, before I enter the shop, realizing how socially
inacceptable it is to purchase such an item in Asia. He nods and stops dead on
his tracks. From afar, Pete resembles a bodyguard, which turns me off even
more.
Scanning the aisles, I look for the
dam, a device of sorts made of latex that claims to protect its user doing oral-vaginal
or oral-anal sex. Personally, I have yet to assess the object myself, but since
the last herpes outbreak in Leslie’s wedding, it might be a good idea to buy
some just in case someone gets a bit too adventurous. Browsing through the
shelves under ultra bright neon lights can be blinding, especially when you are
trying to be discrete about it. Giving up, I approach one of the staff to ask
whether they have the product in store. Not surprisingly, she turns to me and
gives off a weird, disgusted look. Then she rants in Mandarin, which I no too
little of.
“Duìbùqǐ,
xièxiè nǐ,” I struggle to make amends and move on. But she continues to spit
out these words that are as foreign as sex seems to me.
“Āyí,
duìbùqǐ, wǒ de péngyǒu shì fēngle. Wǒ huì bāng tā. Xièxiè nín de shíjiān,”
suddenly, Mr. Steward approaches and starts bowing up and down at the
shopkeeper, to which she smiles awkwardly and leaves.
“What
did you say to her?”
“Don’t
mention it,” he says, quite confidently, and asks, “What was it that you were
looking for?”
“Forget
about it,” I blush uncontrollably. First of all, we are in Asia and it is
uncommon for shops around this area to stock oral dams. Second, I am fully
committed to avoid making this more awkward than it already is.
“Come
on, what were you looking for? There’s no tax, you know,” he pushes forward. I
really don’t feel comfortable, but I can’t help but remember my friends’
overdrawn lips to hide their brand new cold sores.
“Okay,
this is going to be embarrassing, but hey, we won’t see each other again, after
this right?” I try to laugh it off and be humorous, which never pans out when
I’m off the stage and sober, “I’m looking for oral dams.” Although I am looking
at the ground, I could see his eyes widening. Oh fuck! Why didn’t I just get
that girl, Deandra, to help me out.
“Oral
dams? Are you referring to the ones used by the dentist?” he seems genuine
enough.
“Yes,
yes that one. My friend is a dentist, you see, and she-“ I try real hard to
pull it off, but fail miserably as he picks out a box covered with steamy
photos.
“This
one?” he holds it high enough for everyone in the store to see. Crap! “Are you
sure your friend is using this to
clean people’s teeth?”
“Just
give it to me,” I try to grab it from his hands only to realize that I could
just pull one off from the shelf.
Having lost my face at one of my
favorite places on earth, I grab the box and march towards the registry.
Thankfully, the counter is clear of all customers. I place the box and the lady
looks at me strangely.
“Boarding
pass, please” she says. Flustered, I go through my oversized handbag in search
of the ticket. Soon, people start emerging behind me. Queues are always
intimidating, especially when you’re in a country known for its law-abiding citizens.
“Here
it is!” I grin as I finally locate the pass and hand it off to the lady. Maybe,
I’m imagining this. Maybe, she hasn’t raised one of her eyebrows. Maybe, I
should have eaten a bit more on the flight.
“That
will be sixteen dollars and fifty cents,” the lady announces and places the box
in a see through bag.
“Wow!
That’s expensive,” suddenly Pete comments and leans against the counter.
“Eh,
Jonathan, how are you?” she embraces him over the counter, “Is this girl your
new girlfriend?” Before he could answer, she carries on, “Judging by her
purchase, y’all are preparing for a steamy date, aren’t you?” she smiles
covertly, mimicking perverted old ladies in films.
“You
are so funny, auntie, she was actually a passenger on my last assignment,” he
explains, which of course, prompts the people behind us to groan and the lady
to smile happily in light of the beginning of a juicy story.
“He
didn’t mean it that way, umm… we were just going the same direction and I asked
him where the drugstore was-“
“Ah
girl, you don’t have to be so ashamed. Jonathan here is a respected bachelor,
if I were still in my twenties I would definitely eye him, as well” she grins.
“Hey!
I have a flight to catch!” a man grumbles behind me.
“Ah
yes, yes, excuse me,” with that she continues working. Pete smiles at me
timidly and we try to walk away from the angry mass. Just as we exit the store,
she screams, “Kids, have safe sex!”
Shit.
*The rights to the photos are owned by the author
No comments:
Post a Comment