Met up with a few friends at Starbucks for a double espresso to calm my nerves after the Mahathir Lokman episode. While I was drowning my sorrows in the espresso cup, a friend came up with an interesting theory about men in regards to dating/socializing. He was relaying to another friend of the fairer sex with great detail and care.

I was amazed he spent time on meaningless thoughts. He can get em from Cleo or FHM.  And he is in his early 40s. The last time he dated, B52s were dropping bombs in Cambodia. So what would he know anyway……….

He looked straight at me with conviction and said, ‘you would think a lot about men too, especially young men when you daughter turns 16. I have to know my enemy. Oh and by the way, I have two samurai swords, its hung on the living room wall. I’ll use it if any of those horny little bastards touch my daughter’.

I believe he would.

Mr. Samurai’s Dating Men Segmentation

a. The Walker

A ‘walker’ is a guy you go to bars & clubs and sometimes weddings with. He pays for your drink most of the time and then send you home. He basically treats you like a date but no hanky-panky. He only wants you for your company. He sometimes wants you for more but does not dare to go further for many reasons. He wouldn’t turn you down if you come on to him. For example, for the guy: ‘let’s bring Stephanie out to Zouk because both of us do not want to be seen like a two middle aged gay couple’. -show him the sword-

b. The Double Agent

They pretend to be your best mate while they figure out ways to get in your skirt. They pretend they are cool with the sight of the back of your black lacy g-string occasionally showing off and cleavage. They pretend to be a good listener and phone chat buddy. They pretend to be a nice guy to you i.e., ‘I am a real bastard with other women but I am nice to you because we are friends’. Ask your mate to look at him look at you when you are looking away. -kill them with sword-

c. The Bandit

The Bandit makes his intention known from the beginning. Ultimately they want you. He won’t pretend to be a friend. He courts you openly. -kill them with sword-

d. The friend

Similar to a ‘walker’ but just like he treats his other friends. This means you pay for your own drink. A ‘walker’ might fancy you and would sleep with you, a friend wouldn’t. He either doesn’t fancy you or you are ineligible*.  *related, you dated his best mate, you dated his mates, he works for your mom/dad etc. -invite him for dinner-

You know it’s time to dust off the old golf bag when...

you are passed by a Mahathir Lokman look-alike* wearing badminton shoes on a bike that cost half the price of your seat, up a false flat!

*probably it was him....

Moderately capricious bachelor,

32, seeks vivacious female with my sense of humour,

works long hours with own transport,

does not mind tip-toeing in to house to

watch films on DVD, without seeing the ending.

And white cotton undies an asset.

 

The Rant

I spent last Sunday afternoon watching the movie Sepet. I will never ever go to the cinema on a Sunday afternoon again. The place was packed with people. I think it is easier to get into Merdeka stadium for the Malaysia Cup final than getting into the cinema.  The young couples in their Sunday best, some nervous, some in love and some in heat is pretty endearing to watch.

But I don’t understand the rest of the people: families and groups of men spending a lovely Sunday afternoon in the bloody cinema. They should be out there either in a café reading a book or chatting, or out there playing tennis/football/trekking/ cycling…… instead they roam the mall/cinema in groups, channeling their energy into talking and laughing out loud, acting rowdy like thugs on speed.  What happen to parents bringing their kids to theme parks or picnics? Instead they opt to dump their bratty kids at the mall.

Its bad enough I have to put up with socially inept young men acting all weird to attract the attention of the few annoyed looking young women. I also have to put up with screaming little kids who should be out breathing fresh air instead of recycled air in dingy mall. Why are these young men wasting their time with each other in a cinema? They should be out there chasing skirts or mountain biking.

The Sepet Review

I thought the indy movie was pretty good.  I felt like I was watching a foreign film – watched it in GSC mid valley, lots of subtitles, cinematography and no Hollywood special effects and action scenes. I thought the acting was really good by the two main actors. I sensed some on-screen chemistry between them. The supporting roles by Ida, Harith, Yam and Ah Leong were very good. The jokes were funny: there was constant laughter in the cinema. The movie addressed some real life social concerns but did not offend anyone. And I thought the ending was good. I would have been disappointed if it was a typical Hollywood ending. Maybe Yasmin wanted to say, ‘some time it all boils down to luck really’.

My gripes: The character build-up of the relationship between Orked and Jason wasn’t good. One example, Orked address Jason as ‘sayang or my love’ after one brief date at a fast food joint. I thought she called him by his first name, Sai Leong. Maybe there were some scenes which were cut I don’t know. The other one is Orked’s wardrobe. She wore baju kurung all the time, even to a party and to the airport presumably to study in the United States. Maybe Euro Moda or Globe Silk Store co-sponsored the movie. 

The Old Trout From Yesteryear

I felt l could relate to Jason’s character especially the karaoke lounge scene towards the end of the movie. It reminded me of the time I fell head over heels for a young woman who coincidentally share the same name.

Similar circumstance: the girl as a person was better than me. She was day and I was night. If I wanted to improve myself as a person, I would have chosen her as a benchmark.  I was not in her league but I kept trying until I exhausted myself.

I changed jobs (a high paying one) because she doesn’t date her clients. I went for prayers because she likes her partner to be spiritual. I went mosque hopping during the fasting month just to be with her at night. I stopped wearing jeans because she likes men in trousers. I opened doors, wrote poems, learn how to wear kain pelekat properly, dedicated songs, learned & practiced table manners, visited an orphanage, cooked Italian (had to order pizza in the end) and other things too embarrassing to mention to gain brownie points. I learned what she likes and dislikes with great detail.

She had a boyfriend whom she loved and I was this fork wielding devil tempting her. She got seduced by my energy and determination to be with her, to be a better person for her.

I got frustrated many, many times. The cycling boys would know it. I’d go to the front of the peloton, hammer the pedals and pull them at high tempo. I would ride myself to the ground. I was upset with her one Saturday night and at 7am the following day, cycled from the house to a town called Temerloh, located in Pahang – another state.  If things were good, I’d find myself at the back of the peloton struggling to hold on. Fortunately (from a cyclist point of view) I was upset a lot more times than I was deliriously happy. She made me become a physically strong endurance cyclist because whenever I felt frustrated I would take my bike out morning, noon or night.

‘Malay men don’t deserve us malay women. We are ‘manja’ and loving;  Malay men are the most unromantic and ungrateful. You think it is your right to be loved like a prince’ said my movie date in our post Sepet chat. Years ago, I would have said, ‘those (insert race/nationa lity/as this is universal) guys were simply not that into you’. Instead I didn’t say a word. At the age of 33 31 32, I knew that some things are better left unsaid.

I have not had the opportunity to update my blog after receiving my bedroom renovation bill. I must have fainted when my eyes met with the numerical figure next to the ‘total’ column.

My next blog entry is triggered by my father’s ‘its time you find the RIGHT woman’ outburst* and is part of my therapy towards becoming ‘emotionally available’ again is titled ‘Till Lawyers Do Us Part’…  

*My father is from the ol’ol’ol’skool. These people don’t communicate very much. There was no Oprah, Ricki or Gerardo when they were growing up. He hardly opens his mouth and if he did its raging little verbal diarrheas.