I arrived to find TM and BPB waiting for me at the bar. TM handed me a colourful striped box.
“What’s in it?” I asked him.
“Read the tag,” he said with a smile.
I flipped over the tag on the box. You drink, right? It read.
“Is this what I think it is? Is it a bottle of Gewurtzraminer?” TM had found out my favourite white was Gewurtzraminer during our Europe trip. I was pleased he remembered.
“I know you love it.”
“I do! Thank you!” I gave him a hug.

I hadn’t seen BPB in a long time, since he had been on exchange in Hong Kong all semester. I turned to him and gave him a hug too.

Moments later, the rest of the party streamed in, including Jasmine and Vin Diesel, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. I had never received flowers from a non-boyfriend before. And the bouquet had white calla lilies, which looked so beautiful and elegant. Of my Europe trip-mates, Jack Sparrow was the only one who couldn’t make it, but he sent me a text: “You are one of my favourite Asians.” Coming from him, that meant a lot.

Dinner was quite pleasant, and although the Italian food was not as good as what we’d had in Italy, it certainly reminded me of it, and that was enough. After dinner, we went to a penthouse lounge nearby for some champagne and astonishing views of the City.

The entire night, I made sure to spend some time talking to each person, and the more I chatted, the more it dawned on me how strong my roots in the City really were. When I’d chatted with PHB a few weeks ago, he had told me to see Singapore as not only a new chapter in my life, but also an opportunity for a fresh start. When I heard that, I was reminded of how excited I used to be when I was a little girl every time I switched schools (which was quite often). Every time I went to a new school, I had the opportunity to re-invent myself. If I wasn’t very popular in my last school, no problem, this time I would make the right friends and start anew.
But it’s different now. I’m not looking for a fresh start. I like who I am here, and I like my friends here. I don’t feel frustrated or suffocated such that I need to get away, that wasn’t the reason I took this job. I took this job because it was a rare opportunity to challenge myself, but that doesn’t mean I won’t miss what I have here, who I am in this City. For the first time in my life, I had established roots.

And here I am picking up my life and moving.

When I received the first two messages, I thought she was drunk-texting me. I have never been drunk-texted by a girl, much less on Sunday morning, so I was quite amused.
The Drake Hotel, I texted back.
She asked if I could join her for brunch.
I am with some guys from last night but they are leaving, she said.
I raised an eyebrow but only texted back, No problem.

Two hours later, CMA and I arrived at The Drake Hotel (I invited CMA at the last minute because she was a classmate of ours that had just moved to The City and I knew she was dying for me to take her to The Drake, or anywhere for that matter). I spotted BI immediately, lounging with – not one, not two – but four guys on the couches by the window.

BI introduced them as friends of Friend X who had shown up for Friend X’s birthday party last night. There was a German, a Russian, a Portuguese, and an Indian. It was like a bad racial joke. The introductions were awkward, seeing as we didn’t know them and BI barely knew them.

“Sorry for the last-minute notice,” BI said after we ordered. “I’m really glad you made it. This may be the last time I see you!” She has said that the last three times we’ve seen each other.

But it’s true, since classes ended, each time we see each other feels like it’ll be the last. Neither of us are sure how long it’ll be before our next get-together (after I go off to Singapore that is), so while we’re still in the same country, we make the most of it, which explains why I dropped what I was doing and drove all the way downtown after getting her text. I was hoping the boys would leave quickly, I wanted girl-talk time with my girl.

In the meantime, I concentrated on the food, an overflowing platter of scrambled egg whites, bacon, home fries, and toast, a breakfast burrito, and blueberry scones with raspberry jam and whipped cream (to share). What? We were eating for three hours okay?

After the food and the boys were gone, BI broke the news about her apartment-hunting woes. She was starting a job in The City in a few months and had originally planned to take over her cousin’s apartment, which was in a great location downtown (at a great price). Her cousin was supposed to move to Brazil with his wife, but he called her not 24 hours prior to say that he was probably not going anywhere. In fact, he might be getting a divorce.
This, of course, spurred a whole discussion about marriage, monogamy, and relationships. It’s strange how all my discussions with BI these days lead to the topic of marriage.
“I read this book called ‘The Myth of Monogamy‘ and in it, they say that most animals, humans included, are not meant to be monogamous. In fact, there are only seven species of monogamous animals in the wild,” BI said conspiratorially.
“Yes, I don’t know if monogamy is necessarily the key to a good marriage,” I said, surprising even myself. “Perhaps a polygamous arrangement could be just as successful, if people know what they’re getting into and have the right expectations.”
“Really?” CMA asked, looking doubtful. “I mean I know marriage is a social institution, but don’t you think the point of this practice is to elicit the promise of devotion?”
“Well if marriage is just about tying down someone who promises to devote himself to me, then I might as well marry my dog!” I said, a little too loudly.
Suddenly, BI burst out laughing, breaking the mood of our overly serious discussion. Seconds later, I was laughing with her, until we were making such a ruckus that our neighbours started shooting us angry looks.

This is why I love BI. She laughs with me (at me, with me, same thing), she makes me see the absurdity of some of my more extreme statements, and she makes me feel endlessly amusing, albeit a bit naive. For the last year and a half, BI has been my best friend at The Business School. We’re not best friends in a wearing-BFF-bracelets-and-having-sleepovers kind of way. But I feel like we can talk to each other, truthfully and without judgment. She’s the closest thing I have to a confidant at TBS. And of course, I love the fact that she finds me hilarious. She will often burst out laughing in the middle of our conservations at something I’ve said, something that I wouldn’t have otherwise found funny. I like the fact that she finds me amusing, lovable, sassy. I love seeing that me through her eyes. She makes me feel really special, like a true Sassy Girl.

Moreover, she’s five years older than me, and that much wiser, so she can give me advice about boys like she knows what she’s talking about. Having a friend like BI makes me honestly start to wish that I had an older sibling. Because seriously, I would love it if I had an older sister to tell it to me like it is without the bullshit – a trooper of the “He’s Not Into You” camp – and prepare me for the heartache that’s sure to come. I guess what I’m saying is that I want to keep BI as a friend, but I’m afraid that it might be difficult once we’re oceans apart with no shared context. Friends can care about you when it’s convenient but the commitment isn’t unconditional.

Unfortunately, I can’t force BI to be my older sister and care for me unconditionally. She’s been a great friend, whether or not our friendship stands the test of time (and space). I’m not supposed to feel bad about moving on with my life, even if that means leaving some people behind (kind of par for the course when I choose to move halfway around the world), but as she said at our last meeting, “It’s like the end of an era!” (and then I squealed with delight for hearing a quote from Friends, my all time favourite TV show ever) and I gave her a tight hug because I knew in that instant that she got me. She was the only person I met at TBS who ever really got me.

And now I have to make new friends in a completely different city with a completely different culture on a completely different continent. Will I still be considered witty? Funny? Sassy? Will they get me?

• Number of cigarettes: 5
• Number of lesbian kisses: 2
• Number of lap dances: 1
• Number of unattractive strippers: 6
• Number of attractive strippers: 1
• Number of slices of pizza: 3
• Number of units of alcohol: what do you think?

Zee is back from Australia for a few days, so we called up our old crew for a little get-together¹. Zee transferred there for medical school in early January. It was pretty sudden and there wasn’t much time for proper goodbyes. I hadn’t seen EnigmaticRebel for over a year, but when I called him up, he was game for anything.

Originally, we planned a low-key night at my place. Order some food, open up a few bottles of wine, and catch up on each other’s lives. That was not at all how the night went down.

Although we had said we were staying in, I knew that going out after dinner was fair game with this crowd, especially after a few drinks. So, as I was getting ready, I decided I might as well get ready for anything².
When Zee and DubaiGirl saw me, they decided they wanted to dress up too. And what was the point of dressing up if no one was going to see it?

So, following my recommendations, we ended up at a fairly upscale restaurant downtown. My friends thought the food was fantastic, but I, of course always being the food critic, thought it didn’t reach its full potential. Over duck, pasta, and risotto, I told them about my recent deflowering incident. This led to a length discussion on sex, everything from oral sex and foreplay to girth, stamina, and technique (I wanted to know, compared to ‘average men’ and ‘average sex’, how good/bad my first time was). Given the upscale setting that we were in, ER was unsettled by how openly we talked about penis sizes and blowjobs.
“SassyGirl, you’re scaring me.”
“Why?” I asked innocently.
“You’re the manliest person I’ve ever met! Most girls would be a lot more sensitive about losing their virginity, but with you, it’s like you just went to a hockey game!”
We laughed, and then I said, “But seriously, how big is big?”

After dinner, we drove to Zee’s and started drinking. We continued the discussion on sex, this time involving ethnicity (black vs. Asian). When I was satisfied with the information I solicited from my friends, I came to the conclusion that the reason the boy I slept with didn’t realize I was a virgin was possibly due to his own ego – i.e. that I was tight and he was too big for me, and therefore I bled. Because obviously it wouldn’t occur to him that a virgin would ask for a booty call.

We went clubbing at our favourite new club, but it was surprisingly empty (maybe because it’s exam period for all the university students). However, it was ladies night and there was a bachelorette party there, so we actually had a good time dancing with the girls without being bothered by creepy men.

By the way, did I mention that Zee is a lesbian?

That explains how we ended up on the patio, kissing each other. And by we, I mean all four of us. I don’t really remember how it started. One minute we were smoking, the next minute DG was asking whether kissing a girl was any different from kissing a guy. And I piped up that I had never kissed a girl before so I wouldn’t know. Next thing I knew, DG was kissing me.
“How was it?” Zee asked.
“It was… wet.” was all I could say.
Then, Zee kissed me, and it was also… wet.
DG and Zee also swapped kisses, and at some point ER got some lip action too, so he wouldn’t feel left out.
“Why is it so wet??” I whined loudly.
I heard laughing behind me, and that was when we noticed the bouncer standing right beside us, staring bug-eyed. We all laughed awkwardly.
“Wow, I can’t believe we just kissed our friends,” DG said, “and we can’t even deny it because we have a witness!” .
“I definitely was not expecting to see that,” the bouncer admitted with a chuckle. “I’m feeling pretty lucky tonight.”
Although we’ll never see him again, on someone’s camera, there is a picture of us with this bouncer.

After clubbing, our feet were tired but my friends weren’t ready to call it a night.
“I want to do something sketchy tonight!” DG kept announcing, over and over.
“We’ve already kissed each other, isn’t that sketchy enough?” I asked.
“Let’s go to a strip club!” Zee piped up.
My friends liked this idea, but I was definitely not up it. In the cab, they tried to convince me to go with them, and even the cab driver joined in.
“Come on SassyGirl, it’ll be an interesting experience,” DG said. “Plus, I need you there with me while Zee and ER ogle.”
“You know I’m all for new experiences, but I have a feeling this is the kind that will leave a scar in my memory. I just don’t want to see fat old ladies with their clothes off³. It’ll be burned into my mind and I don’t want to carry that image around for the rest of my life.”

Despite my protests, I was somehow dragged into the strip club with them. It was dark. There were a lot of men, the kind that leer at you from the edge of the dance floor, they were here in packs. The women were trashy, to be expected, but unexpectedly unattractive. Most of the women were fat (like literally, pregnant-looking), and the skinny ones looked like anorexics (wrinkly skin stretched over small bones). It was like they had gotten all the ugly girls from the club to come here and take their clothes off. Were the men really enjoying this?
Zee didn’t seem to mind and asked one of the anorexics for a lap dance. It was over pretty quickly, and in her state, Zee didn’t remember much of it, other than the fact that the woman told her she was allowed to touch her. “The way her boobs looked like balloons on her chest, I didn’t want to touch them at all,” Zee said to us later.

We ended the night at DG‘s place, with a delicious feast of pizza, wings, and shisha.

Our night went from fancy upscale restaurant to trashy strip club, but I would expect nothing less from this particular group of friends. We’ve always been known for being spontaneous and ridiculous, and if I remember any of our nights together, it will definitely be this one.

1. Zee, EnigmaticRebel, DubaiGirl, and I were in the same residence in first-year university. We partied a lot together, knew each other’s sketchy stories, took care of each other as we were adjusting to life at university, and have basically become the kind of friends around whom you have no inhibitions.
2. Plus, I have a habit of over-dressing. Always. Which is not a habit I mind at all.
3. Zee had been to this strip club before, and I’d heard things from others, that it did not have high-quality girls. In fact, some of my guy friends went more for the breakfast buffet than the women. Apparently most of them were overweight or way too old to be in this line of work. I wanted to spare myself from ever seeing saggy boobs, thank you very much.

I was reflecting on this over coffee with BI yesterday, using it as an example of how I’ve changed since high school.
“I was so ignorant about what it meant to be in a relationship. I had no idea what was considered normal behaviour as far as showing one’s feelings. Sure, I showed him I cared in my own way, but maybe by missing out on all the cliched things, I made him feel more unsure about our relationship.”
Like a horse being whipped, words started tumbling out of my mouth at lightning speed. “I was so clueless! I didn’t know what it meant to be someone girlfriend. I didn’t know what to expect of anything. And I never talked about my feelings – not to him or to my friends.”
I took a breath.
“But now, now I know it’s ok to talk about my feelings. In fact, it’s expected that you tell your partner how you feel about them – they want to hear it! I also know it’s ok to talk to your friends about your relationship, I mean I’ve seen Sex and The City, which taught me all I need to know about commiserating. Since then, it seems like all I can talk about on my blog, with my friends, is boys! Boys, boys, boys!”
BI nodded with comprehension.
“Given that I’ve come such a long way in terms of understanding relationships between men and women, you’d think that I’d be better at it. But guess what? In the last four years, my longest relationship lasted two months.
That is the greatest irony of all. When I was in high school, I didn’t plan to have a relationship at all. I didn’t take high school relationships seriously and would have been just fine if I had graduated without ever having a boyfriend. Instead, I ended up in a three-year relationship.
But when I went to university, I was totally ready for a relationship, and guess what? In the last four years, I haven’t had a single relationship where I would actually call the boy ‘my boyfriend.’”

BI chuckled and shook her head. “Maybe ignorance is bliss after all. Once you knew what to expect, those expectations may have actually been a barrier to you falling for someone.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe that’s why first loves seem so perfect – because they’re easy. We’re all clueless with our first love, and it’s a clean slate. Our expectations only grow from there.

But my own statistics still left me baffled. “Four years. Hundreds of boys on campus. I mean, you’d think I could find one genuine love interest, right? Even if my expectations have changed, what are the odds that I would not like a single person in four years of university?”

For that, BI had no answer.

…

“I got a feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night
That tonight’s gonna be a good night
That tonight’s gonna be a good, good night”
DG and I are now in the middle of the dance floor, shaking and moving to the rhythm. We both have huge grins on our faces, drunk and happy. We sing along to this familiar song, knowing they’ll ring true tonight.

…

She grabs my hand and pulls me up to the platform. We dance around each other, as if we’re the only two people in the club. I’m oblivious to the two guys coming up behind us. Before I know it, she’s pulling me off the platform and pushing through the crowd. I look behind me just before we disappear into the crowd, the guys are looking embarrassed and their friends are laughing.

…

We laugh as we run away, returning to our spot in the middle of the dance floor. After a few minutes, I see a guy trying to dance with her from behind, so I put my hand around her shoulders and spin her to a different position. She sees a guy coming up behind me, and spins me away as well. Both guys leave feeling confused and rejected. We laugh. Tonight was going to be about just us girls.

…

On the way out of the bathroom, we run into a friend of mine, who had just arrived with some other people I partied with in first-year. We start dancing with them, our dancing duo now turning into a trio. The third girl, MG, spots a recently vacated stripper pole and points to it. I shrug my shoulders and we get up there, knowing that the rest of our friends are watching us. But when Lady Gaga comes on, all is forgotten and we just dance.

“I want your love and I want your revenge, you and me could write a bad romance.”

…

The three of us are dancing in the middle of a circle that our friends have formed around us. I feel a hand on my waist and a solid chest against my back, the faint smell of aftershave hovering above me. I throw my arm up in the middle of the song and accidentally hit the side of his head. “Sorry!” I gasp, as I turn around. I look up to see a tall Asian boy, one of MG‘s friends that I’d met once. I remember him to be good-looking, but tonight he is smoldering hot. DG winks at me and moves away with MG. TDH places his hand firmly on the small of my back and I melt into him, our bodies moving in sync to the music.

…

DG and I are waiting in-line at coat check, our faces gleaming with perspiration.
“Tonight was awesome,” DG says emphatically, her eyes shining. “This was the best clubbing night I’ve ever had!”
My expression mirrors hers as I nod. “Yeah, this was amazing. Girls night out at its best. I danced so much!”
“And did you see who you were dancing with? For an Asian guy, he was hot!”
I giggle, “I know, I couldn’t believe it when I turned around and it was him. Especially because we were dancing with all our friends, I didn’t think he would single me out.”
“That’s what makes it even hotter,” DG says with a twinkle in her eye.
As we exit the club, I say to no one in particular, “Tonight was a good, good night.” And I mean it.

“SG, will you be a surrogate for me?” OBF asked me.
Somehow, we had started talking about surrogacy, which is defined by Wikipedia as: “a method of reproduction whereby a woman agrees to become pregnant and deliver a child for a contracted party.” It is important to note, however, that (at least in Canada), it is against the law to compensate (in monetary or other terms) a surrogate mother. That is to reduce potential abuse of someone offering a large sum of money for someone else to be a surrogate. So, in Canada, you would have to volunteer to be a surrogate without receiving anything in return. My friends were debating whether that was fair, given that you would have to be either incredibly nice or incredibly empathetic or both to volunteer to carry someone’s baby for nine months and risk complications related to pregnancy and giving birth.

I was not actively participating in this discussion when OBF suddenly turned to me and asked, “If MS and I can’t conceive, would you be willing to be our surrogate?”

I spat out my drink and laughed. Then, when I realized she was asking in earnest, I practically shouted, “Um, NO! I don’t even want to carry my own baby, why would I want to carry someone else’s?!”
Her eyes widened. There was suddenly silence around the table as everyone’s face matched hers. Wait, did I say something wrong? Did they honestly think I was going to say, “Yes! Please let me be your baby incubator!”?

“Really?” She asked disbelieving, as if I would change my mind on second thought. “If there was something wrong with my uterus, you wouldn’t have my baby?” Her eyes were so wide I thought they were going to pop out of their sockets.
“Well…” I chuckled awkwardly, “I hope it doesn’t come to that. I mean, I hope you and MS are both healthy and fertile.” Then I added, “If you want to be.”
Still, no one said a word.
I looked around the table. If wanting a baby and being physically equipped to have one was the equation for happiness in their mind, I didn’t want to leave anyone out. So I extended my wish to everyone as an afterthought, “I hope you’re all fertile, if you want to be.”

It was awkward. Oh, it was awkward.

Luckily, someone started to chuckle and relieved me of the spotlight.

But seriously, pregnancy? Not on my list of things I have to experience in life, thankyouverymuch. Even if I wanted a baby, I would probably adopt. So why in the world would I volunteer to be someone else’s baby incubator, even if the couple in question were my oldest friends? There are a lot of things I am willing to do for my friends – hold their hair up when they’re throwing up, go along with their crazy plans to seduce an older/married/otherwise unavailable man, make comfort food for them when they’re sad, and even go skydiving if that’s what it takes to cheer them up – but I will not have their baby, no sirree.

What are your thoughts on surrogacy? Would you have your best friend’s baby if she asked you to?

• Remember that time when… I snuck into a hotel, into their men’s staff change room (and shower room), looking for a mini bottle of shampoo?
• Remember that time when… we got a mango?
• Remember that time when… I asked a stranger to text me the phrase “wo shi yi ge long xia” (I am a lobster, in pinyin Chinese).
• Remember that time when… we broke into a closed salon to take a picture of their Engrish sign?
• Remember that time when… we went looking for a BMW 7 series?

So late last night, I met up with MFL, AHB, and EN at a popular bubble tea cafe¹ This place was packed, as if all the Asians in the city had come out that night. It took me forever to find a parking spot. Unsurprisingly, the lot was filled with a lot of high-end Japanese and European cars. We Asians love showing off our cars, and this was apparently the place to be seen with one.
After bubble tea, we had trouble deciding what to do next, as usual. After discussing for nearly an hour, someone came up with a brilliant idea. “Let’s do a scavenger hunt! In our cars!” The idea snowballed. Soon, we had split into two teams of two and were off.
I was with AHB, driving a BMW X5, unsurprisingly. We had 15 minutes to do each challenge (which is not a lot of time when we’re driving and the roaming area is unlimited), and we were to call the other team as soon as we had completed a challenge. The losing team got to decide the next challenge.

That was how, in the middle of the night, I found myself running into Asian restaurants, asking for a mango.
We finally spotted a juice shop in one of the plazas and ran in, only to find the other team had beat us there. The lady behind the counter looked utterly confused as we tried to explain to her, while interrupting the other team, that we were playing a game and that she needed to give us a mango, and not to the other guys. Finally, she sold us a mango for $2.

For another challenge, we had to try to get a stranger to text us the phrase “Wo shi yi ge long xia” (I am a lobster). I ran into the bubble tea cafe we were at earlier, spotted a guy with a group of friends, quickly explained that we were playing a scavenger hunt and could he text me a phrase? He, and his friends, looked at me like I was crazy, but at least they were slightly more amused than the juice lady. With relief, I saw that he had pulled out his phone and was starting to text. He sent me the message in Cantonese, but it was good enough. Later, MFL said I had a natural advantage with that challenge, being a girl. I guess he was right.

AHB and I also had to sneak into a hotel to look for a mini bottle of shampoo. We lost that challenge though, the other team went to a convenient store and found a mini bottle of shampoo tied to a big bottle of shampoo.

Photographic evidence from last night:

At the end of the night, we decided this was an awesome idea and we should do it again with more people and more cars. However, there is the possibility that we won’t all be together in The City at the same time (ever again, gasp), so we decided that we could turn this into a larger scale worldwide scavenger hunt. For example, we’d each come up with five challenges and post them online to compile a full list. They would have to be challenges we could do anywhere in the world² – for example, it couldn’t be take a picture in a rainforest, because not everyone will have access to a rainforest, but it could be take a picture with a family of eight (although this will be more likely in some places of the world, but it’s a given that any given challenge will afford advantages to people in a different parts of the world). We would then have one year to try to complete as many on the list as possible, posting photographic evidence each time we’re done. And the prize for winning? We would have to meet up in a location of the winner’s choosing.

All in all, it was a very memorable night. However, coming home at 2am with a mango was tricky to explain to my parents…

1. Asians don’t go to bars in the middle of the night, we go to bubble tea cafes.
2. After graduation, I will be in Singapore, or wherever I am for consulting, AHB will probably be in Hong Kong, EN will be in Toronto, and MFL will be somewhere in the U.S. (wherever he gets in for medical school).

Anyway, my friends have been very supportive of my excitement (maybe they just haven’t gotten tired of me going on and on yet). I was shopping with a girl friend who I haven’t seen in literally two years, and when I started rambling about this Europe trip, she pulled out a few euros from her purse and gave them to me. I, clueless that I was, didn’t even know they were Euros.
“Here, for your trip,” she said, handing them to me.
“What are these? Are these like arcade game tokens?” I pulled out a game token for comparison¹.
“What? No! These are euros!”
“Oh. Right. Of course. I knew that.”

And then last night, when I went out to dinner with some of the friends that are going on exchange (you know, the ones whose couches I will be crashing on when I go), they gave me some budgeting advice.
“When I went to Europe, I ended up spending a lot less on food than I thought,” one of my friends said. “For example, when I was in Paris for four days, all I ate was a baguette, some pickles, and a bottle of wine.”
I chewed on my rigatoni, considering this.

“Ohhhh,” I said, suddenly understanding, “So you replace food with wine, and you get so drunk you forget you’re hungry. Is that the idea?”
They stared at me incredulously and then burst into laughter. Was that not the idea?

My friend took a bite of her beef tenderloin, which looked a lot like salami. “Of course, I’m not a foodie like you, I don’t go out to nice places when I travel. I imagine you will be taking advantage of some of the ‘culinary sights’ on this trip?” She said, when they had finished laughing.
“Well, I don’t eat out that much when I travel either,” I admitted, thinking of my trip to California when I went to the grocery store on my first day in San Francisco, and lived off baby carrots, apples, bananas, and cereal for a week.
“But in Europe,” another friend piped up, “Oh in Europe, some of these places take their food very seriously.” She twirled a forkful of capellini, and after a thoughtful pause, she added, “It’s more like an art to them.”

I groaned in pretend ecstasy. “In that case, I may have to be a little looser with my food budget,” I said, taking a sip of merlot and looking over at my friend’s chicken breast with envy.

For the last 48 hours, other than food, my head has been filled with Europe. I have already planned out a good portion of my trip, for cities that I am definitely visiting: Prague, Vienna, Venice, and Florence. I have put my itinerary up here, although it is still a work in progress. Most of it is based on Internet research, so I will be waiting for feedback from Real Live People who have been there, or my friends who are going to be there over the next few months, before I finalize the itinerary. Or maybe I won’t finalize it, and just let myself travel a bit more spontaneously. After all, that’s what Euro trips are supposed to be about right? Spontaneity, recklessness, embracing flaunting the fact that we are young and alive. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for me to stop acting like a 30-year-old and start acting my age.

1. Don’t ask me why I was carrying around arcade tokens. I had some left over from last time I went out with friends and we played arcade games while waiting for our movie to start.

He had also invited a good friend of his, BDB, who was bringing two girls to introduce to PHB. Like all his friends, BDB was trying to help him find his next girlfriend. I thought it would be awkward, since I didn’t know anybody, but surprisingly, I enjoyed myself. I was singing most of the time, because BDB couldn’t read Chinese, and one of the other girls only spoke Cantonese (we were singing in Mandarin). But everyone was friendly and easy to get along with; it helped that I have a good voice and knew a lot of songs, so I could do duets with people when they were too shy to sing solo.

Although I had joked I could be PHB‘s wingman for the night, I realized I’m not all that good at that. Other than maneuvering myself so that he could sit with either of the girls, I felt pretty useless. But the fact that I monopolized the mic meant they could have a conversation, so maybe it wasn’t a terrible strategy.

However, I didn’t consider the side-effect of my seating strategy, because I ended up next to BDB a lot. When he started flirting with me, PHB suddenly became very alert and even a bit snappy to his friend.
BDB: So, SassyGirl, what are you doing tomorrow?
Me: Nothing, why?
BDB: Do you want to go see the Olympic torch run with me?
Me: Hmm–
PHB: No. She can’t. She’s not from here.
Even though it took me about 25 minutes to drive here on the highway, I thought to myself, but judging from PHB‘s tone, I could tell that he didn’t want me to go. I kept my mouth shut.

PHB‘s strong reaction surprised me. He had been deep in conversation with one of the other girls, I don’t even know how he heard BDB. And yes, BDB was cute, but I wasn’t there to match-make myself, so I was kind of taken by surprise. I threw a cautious look at the girl PHB had been talking to. I didn’t want her to think that I was “PHB‘s girl” or something along those lines. Luckily, she didn’t seem to hear the edge in his voice when he interrupted, but BDB did. He didn’t try to ask me out again the rest of the night.

Although PHB has sometimes acted like a boyfriend around me when we’re alone, I didn’t expect him to be so protective when we were with others. Granted, this was the first time I had spent time with him when it wasn’t just the two of us. But still, tonight was supposed to his night, he had two girls to choose from, and yet he was worrying about his friend hitting on me. I felt like a terrible wingman.

Other than that, I enjoyed myself immensely. I stuck around after the others left and PHB and I sang duets for two more hours. Even though the other people were nice, I was still more comfortable when it was just the two of us singing. I didn’t feel awkward for monopolizing the mic, nor did I feel embarrassed for having a good voice¹.

Being a wingman is no walk in the park, it turns out. In the end, I realized I’m just not cut out for it. I’m more of a spotlight kind of girl.

1. I was afraid of intimidating/upstaging the other girls when I sang earlier in the night, so I didn’t pick any songs that might “show off” my voice. But even with that, I still clearly had the best voice. I was embarrassed and flushed the whole time.

Like his name might suggest, he is a perfect gentleman. He has never been in a long relationship because he is too nice and, as we’re all too familiar with, nice boys finish last. Most of the time it seems, girls use him when they need to be comforted, but at the end of the day, pick someone else to be their boyfriend.
I can’t say that I’m not entirely guilty of the same, considering I have never been attracted to him and yet I have let him take me out on these day-long dates for seven years.

We started the day off with shopping and ended the day off with shopping. In between, we had an amazing all-you-can-eat sushi lunch where we took our sweet time catching up. After listening to his ex-girlfriend woes, commiserating on the challenges of falling in love dating, and basically bringing each other up to date on our life stories, I realized that he has grown from a boy into a man. He’s become more cynical about women, become less of a “nice boy”, and I hate to say it but, more attractive as a result. He was proving his own theory about attraction between men and women; women are more attracted to nice boys who act like jerk boys than nice boys who act like nice boys (I have asked him to write a guest blog on this matter so I won’t go into depth here).

After lunch, we drove around aimlessly north of The City. We kept the GPS turned off and just drove, without an inkling of where we were going. It was great to sit in the car and chat and watch the farmland go by, a completely different side to The City I know and love. It was like a mini road trip. Suddenly, out of nowhere popped a mega-mall. We were pretty shopped out but at the sight of a Forever21 sign, I convinced him we had to make a stop.

Forever21, to me, is basically heaven. If I could, I would make that store my closet. I spent a long time in that store trying everything things on, and he was patient enough to wait for me and hold my coat and purse. I am guilty of totally enjoying his coat rack services while I pranced around the store with an idiot grin on my face like a kid in a candy store.

To be honest, I really didn’t mean to shop for myself at all as I have recently started to run low on cash. But everything I bought elicited a “OH MY GOD this is totally awesome I have to have this!” reaction, and after I picked it up I basically couldn’t put it down.

• Black asymmetric tiered skirt: this skirt is reminiscent of the ballerina skirts that I love. What makes this even more fabulous is the different textures of sequin, mesh, and satin.

• Metallic striped racer-back tank: Snazzy snazzy snazzy. The tunic on the online catalog is even more snazzy (didn’t see that in stores) but the one I got is the same without the tunic and hem. Not sure how I feel about the racer-back to be honest, but the metallic stripes go well with black bottoms.

• Evening fringe shoulder bag: Everything about this purse (evening bag, whatever) spells G-L-A-M. Seriously awesome.

• Silver textured leaf charm necklace: I’m totally digging necklaces that are multiple necklaces in one. Also, I love charms and this one has a leaf, a swallow, a pearl, and two flowers. Feminine and chic.

• Gold polished bead necklace: I don’t have enough gold jewelry. I have been a silver girl all my life. Now, I’m evolving.

• Dressy heart trio earrings: Classy and elegant. What caught my eye was the heart-shaped rhinestone pair, but the studded heart-shaped pair is nice too.

Later, we went to Sephora and MAC. I didn’t really want to buy anything, but the MAC ladies are so nice and knowledgeable that they can always talk me into trying stuff out. Once they get me in the make-up chair and start doing things to my face, I always always end up buying something. This time, the MAC girl ended up giving my cheeks a makeover. I had no idea blushes could be so complicated!

• Wave a Wand Sweep and Define Brushes: For CAD $58, this brush set is a steal. I had wanted to buy a different set originally, that contained a slanted eye liner brush, but I actually already had most of the eye brushes in the set. Once the MAC girl explained how I could use the brushes in this “Wave a Wand” set to define my cheeks, I was sold.

• Luna cream colour base: One of the products she used on my cheeks as a “highlighter.” I love it because it is multi-purpose – i.e. can also be used as a brow highlighter.

Since I felt so guilty about my purchases, PHB offered to pay for something as my Christmas present. Isn’t he perfect? When we walked into a Coach store, he noticed that I was holding my breath.
“Are you in shock?”
“It’s so prettyyy…” I said as I exhaled, floating towards a particularly eye-catching purse sitting on the top shelf. I turned to PHB and looked him straight in the eye. “If you buy me that, I will marry you here and now.”
Without hesitation, he said, “Done.” I may have fainted.

The next thing I knew, we were at a bubble tea cafe (’cause we’re Asian like that). After checking that he did not buy that purse for me and I did not black out and marry him in a Coach store, we settled in for a long chat about: men. and. women. It seems we have both come a long way from our naive notions of love and it was great to share everything we had learned with someone of the opposite gender.

When I got home, I felt like I was high. Was it the Forever21 shopping spree that left me in a state of euphoric stupor or was it the almost-engagement in the Coach store that left me light-headed? Both are equally likely. I guess I will never know.