If I hear "Why is your English so good?" one more time I might just go berserk. Is that even proper grammar? It's as if I'm in one of those Mad mag snappy come back cartoons:
"I'm sorry, I can't understand a word you're saying."
"I'm flattered that you think so."
"What? I'm speaking English?"
Tasha and Bobby had coerced me into going to a club with them. They were on the prowl and needed me as back up. She liked having me start conversations with cute guys. I'd introduce her to them and she'd act like some sweet shy thing. He wanted me to make him look good, believing that there's nothing more appealing to a woman than having to vie against a worthy opponent.
I found myself silently cursing. Tasha had stranded me with shiny shirt tight pants yapping about how I spoke without an accent. Bobby waved me over from the dance floor so I made my escape. By the time I squeezed towards him, Bobby was hipping a girl who had no idea what trouble she was in for. He looked ridiculous. Who grinds to house music?
I danced and ogled the resident DJ who had the hot music geek thing going for him. Then I realized that Tasha had left for good and once again I'd be going home alone. When my eye candy finished his set, I got bored, and feeling a bit down, went out for a breath of air. I found the nearest 7 11, got a mickey of Suntory, and sat on the curb thinking that I should just get a cab.
"You're not drinking straight whiskey out of the bottle?"
I looked up and it was the DJ I'd been salivating over.
"You want some?" I offered.
"Better not, I've got my scooter. Unless you want to come over and finish that at my place."
Whoa, did I just hear that right?
I didn't quite know what to do because I'd never been in this situation. As a serial monogamist, I've never understood how it can be easier to get down with a person you don't know from a hole in the wall. Bobby once told me, "I don't want the complications. Romantic love isn't all about sex, and emotionless sex can be really hot." So, I suppose if it is just another bodily function like having to pee or throw up, to slap skins with a random body does make things easier.
It's a tricky game though, here in Taipei. The foreign community is not even six degrees, so etiquette is of the utmost importance because chances are, you will run into this person again. It's even likely that he/she has mutual friends or has dated someone you know. Sometimes there are no worries but just in case, one ought to be artful. Tasha is an expert fleer. She views snoozing with a stranger much too intimate and never stays over. Her exit line is, "You have to work early tomorrow so I should let you get some rest." Bobby, who likes having a warm body at night, deals with the morning after by saying, "I have a meeting. We can walk out together."
As usual, I was thinking too much and decided to just go for it.
The night was spent chatting and listening to records at his place. I awoke to some heavy snoring the next day. We had passed out on separate couches. Not wanting to wake him up and risk any awkwardness, I gave him a peck on the cheek and slipped out the door. Without any concern as to whether or not I'd ever see him again, I left with the happy thought that there was at least one gentleman in Taipei (who by the way never questioned my speaking ability).
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