The pot belly, the Cheshire cat and oh, the stammer


Haha. Got introduced to many women yesterday. Let’s see… In fact, out of the twelve new faces, nine of them were women. Well-groomed, nice make-up, articulate, smart, bright and bilingual. Maybe I was so caught up with trying to put their faces to the names that I didn’t check if they had a ring on that important finger. Perhaps I wasn’t even thinking about opportunities anyway. I mean having been introduced to them in person, they couldn’t have missed that gigantic pot belly of mine hitting their in-and-out trays, knocking down some of their files and papers, or cause their work desks to wobble as though there was an earthquake…(although I did remember to rid my face of unwanted facial hair this morning)

 

Ok. You get my point.

 

I must admit that my eyes wandered once to that special area of one of the ladies’. It was something sparkling there that attracted their attention and I was drawn to it.

 

Ahh… Necklace with a cross – complete with small precious stones, twinkling under the white office fluorescent light – and without a figure.

 

I don’t know if she observed the sudden darting of my eyes to that sensitive area (cos if my pupils had gone any lower, I could have been a not-so-proud recipient of a tight slap and the impact of the skin of her palm hitting on my flabby cheek would have resulted in a sound which would surely resonate across the cavernous office where we were and immediately alert hundreds of pairs of ears). However, I kicked myself later (not literally, of course, although I could really have) for examining necks instead of observing fingers.

 

There was this reddish hue on her face that looked natural or nicely made to look natural. She had long straight hair – with a light brownish hue – that rested nicely on her shoulders. Because I didn’t check her fingers, I couldn’t comment on whether the nails had a nice gloss of paint. She was wearing a beige outer dress with flower prints, semi-translucent, and a white inner dress (can’t be a camisole, can it?).

 

Now, if this was any other bloke, some things might have happened by now. A flurry of SMSes exchanged. A frantic search for the nicest place on this wee speck of an island to impress a date. A silly grin to accompany every SMS received. An extra beat from the heart to go with that sudden vibration sound from the mobile phone. A shaft of bright light (think Mr Bean’s intro scene) to drive  the darkness away. A quick flip into the trusty “1,001 Jokes That Will Impress Your First Date Guide”. Numerous calls to florists to find out the market rate for roses.

 

The thing is I am no ordinary bloke. Something happened on the way to heaven a very long time ago. Like the scarecrow, the lion and the tin man from the Wizard of Oz, something went missing somewhere. So, I didn’t check the finger, suck in my stomach, rein in the “Cheshire cat” smile (I can do a very good impersonation of the classic MIB with it) and stop the stammer. I forgot even to wipe off the beads of perspiration from my forehead or to be more careful with showing too much of my pitifully pitted nails when handing her my name card.

 

I’ve even forgotten her name!

 

In any case, it’s not difficult for her to have classified me under the “Freak and Weird dudes” category (if not something close to the “MIB” category already). So, I didn’t get anything much out of this except to remember this as one of those quirky moments of my life.

 

Anyway, for some strange reason, the words “for all you know, she’s already married” kept repeating in my head.

 

* By the way, is there such a thing called a “loose slap”?

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