Of polka-dot dresses and animal documentaries

She was wearing a black dress with white polka dots – smallish, not the big round ones. It was sleeveless, and was not so low as to send the minds and imaginations of males into overdrive. Just the slightest hint of a cleavage, and it fitted her so well that it accentuated her good figure.

His gaze fell on her the moment she appeared. The fact that she wore a nice, well-managed bob was a bonus. Somehow he liked women with short hair (but not overly short that would suggest to him that they were of another sexual disposition).

For a man who had lived all his life with only pathetic spurts of being in a relationship (let alone anything physical in nature), the hankering began. The restless voices resonated in his head and they grew louder every moment.

“Gee, I sure wished I had someone I call my own wearing something like that!”

“What are the odds?”

“Zilch. You’re better off continuing your research on your list of mating agencies which specialise in girls from Vietnam, Laos or Cambodia.”

“How nice it would be if I had a girlfriend who wears this when I’m out on a date with her?”

“You’re repeating yourself!”


The conversations, or rather the ill-disguised monologue, in his head raged on, until a few seconds later when the sight of a youngish bloke, decked in immaculately ironed and sharp white shirt with jet black pants, appeared. His skin colour, a thousand times darker than his porcelain-white complexion, suggested he might be one of those regular dragon boaters, or at least someone who wouldn’t mind getting himself nicely charred under the sun. Like his female companion, his hair was well-tended – short, spiky but trendy. Most of all, he wasn’t lugging an overgrown paunch.

The conversations stopped the moment he appeared.

Something just shrank in him in the presence of this handsome male.

He felt like one of those old and slow lions – often seen in documentaries about the animal kingdom – which just shriveled and slinked away in the presence of a far-superior male specimen. Tail behind his legs, while the far superior male specimen just stands there, with his great mane being ruffled by the wind.

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