• 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 have had this sort of experience hundreds of times. I’ve been told that I have strong intuitions when it comes to whether a guy is interested in me¹, but most of the time, I cannot get any confirmation. More often than not, nothing becomes of it and I feel foolish for thinking a guy “like that” would like a girl “like me.” To experience this over and over again is a humbling practice.

But recently, I experienced the opposite, and I want a written record of this to remind myself that perhaps my intuition has been spot on more often than I thought.

When I went out on Friday night, I mentioned that I ran into a group of people I used to hang out with in first year. I never considered them to be my friends, but back in the day, we always seemed to be at the same parties. One of them, CG, used to live in my residence and was always very friendly. He was cute and we got along really well; I thought maybe he had a crush on me, but then I found out he had a girlfriend. I decided that he was just someone who was (naturally) overly friendly, but that he never actually liked me. I ran into CG two or three times since first-year, and he exhibited the same over-enthusiasm, which only confirmed my suspicions that this was the way he was. However, when he showed up at the club on Friday, he did not leave my side all night. Even DG noticed, but I kept telling her it didn’t mean anything. So, to prove to me that he really was interested, DG asked CG to buy us drinks. CG does not frequent bars and is not a big spender, but after looking over in my direction, he bought all of my friends and I drinks. He was a typical frugal Asian boy – he didn’t even buy himself a drink – but it looked like he was trying to impress me. I refused to be impressed and walked away, hissing to DG that she was not allowed to take advantage of him like that. “It only worked because of you,” she hissed right back.
For the rest of the night, CG continued to dance by my side, taking every opportunity to hold my hand or dance alone with me. He was all over me, not in a drunk, aggressive kind of way, but in a “Is this my chance?” kind of way. It almost felt like he was relieved to have run into me again. I smiled to myself, even though I was no longer interested in him. All I could think was, “I was right! Back in the day, when I thought he might be interested in me, it wasn’t just my imagination. I was right! I was right!”
When he tried to talk to me at the end of the night, I already knew that he wanted. Before he could ask me about my relationship status, I cut him off. “It was nice seeing you again,” was all I said, and left.

The affirmation that my instincts were right came way too late, but that is not the point. The point is that my instincts were right, and from now on, I should not so carelessly dismiss myself just because someone’s actions does not match what I think. As I’ve already said, boys do not make sense, but that does not mean I should feel foolish. Instead, they are the ones to feel foolish, because I was right.

1. Maybe I am super sensitive, but I always notice when a guy makes physical contact, however casual.

My friend met this guy at the bar one night, and they really hit it off. They talked into early morning, and even had breakfast together. He told her that he couldn’t wait to see her again. She didn’t take it seriously, but gave him her number anyway. Over the next two weeks, he was texting her all day and calling her before bed every night. They saw each other a few more times and it seemed like he was crazy about her. Then, one night, he asks her to meet him at the bar. When she arrives, he was already there, grinding another girl.
In her words, “I couldn’t believe it. Not only was I confused since he had asked me to meet him there, but the girl he was grinding was totally ugly!”
I tried to decipher the cryptic behaviour, but could only conclude that the guy was a dumbass. I mean, even if he was out grinding other girls on the nights that they weren’t together, why invite her out to witness the event? He knew she was coming to meet him, did he want to get caught? Perhaps that was his way of telling her she didn’t mean that much to him.

—

Proof #2

When TDH singled me out on Friday night, all of our friends were there, dancing in a circle around us (literally, facing us). He seemed not to care, which is pretty bold for an Asian guy. Although I expected my friends to feel awkward about watching us grind, I later learned of another reason. Apparently, he had a girlfriend, who they were all close friends with (I knew of her as well, but I didn’t know they were going out), and the only reason she wasn’t there that night was because she was sick. How do you explain that?

—

Proof #3

For the first time in weeks, PLB said more than two words to me. What for? To invite me as his date to his friend’s wedding.
Are you kidding me?
You were the one who was all over me, forcing me to make plans with you on a night when I already had plans. You were the one who then unceremoniously blew me off with a lame excuse. If you were trying to make a point that you didn’t want to date me, that’s your prerogative and you made your point loud and clear. Fine, that’s fine. And then you invite me to your birthday party of close friends, none of whom are friends of mine. But that was a Facebook invite, so I ignored it. Now you’re telling me that, according to the Valentine’s Day questionnaire we filled out a month ago¹, I am your match, and therefore, I must be your date to your friend’s wedding?
I have two words for you: Not happening.
It turns out the acronym I gave him, “Preordained Lover” is a curse. Well, at this point, I don’t care how many signs there are that we are meant to be together, I don’t care if the hands of Fate herself reach out from an other-worldly portal to push us together, it is Not. Happening.

1. A fundraiser at our school for Haiti, you have to pay to get your results.

…

“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.

One of my classes is called “Global Strategy,” taught by a Taiwanese professor with a very thick Chinese accent. Half the time, I can’t understand what he’s saying, and I’m Chinese! It doesn’t help that listening to him speak makes me want to laugh. I can’t even hold it in, it’s that bad. His accent is so classically Asian, he can’t pronounce ses for the life of him, and he kind of makes up his own sounds when he doesn’t know exactly how something is pronounced. Like “strategy” comes out sounding like “training” – I mean, how do you even do that?
But even without the accent, he is a very amusing professor. In our first class, he was trying to convince us of the necessity of this class by showing us the extent of globalization (foreigners invading our home environment even if we don’t have any intention to go abroad).
“You wake up in the morning, you put on your underwear, made in China. You put on your jeans, made in Bangladesh. You put on your t-shirt, made in Pakistan. You drive to school in your car made in Japan. You buy a coffee, imported from Columbia. And then you get to class and you realize, your professor is imported from Taiwan!” (Imagine this whole monologue with a thick Chinese accent, the kind that Russel Peters imitates.)

Anyway, other than school, I have been trying, unsuccessfully, to get things back on track with PLB. I knew a month-long break at the start of a (potential) relationship would be hazardous, and I was completely right.
Actually, it’s more my fault that his. Ever since we came back from the holidays, I have been really awkward around him. It’s not like I want to be, but I just get really nervous around him, because now we are both fairly aware that we like each other¹. He was in my first class when I came back, and I didn’t prepare myself at all for that, so I barely acknowledged him there and left right after class. The second morning (we had the same class again), he did come over to talk to me, but I wasn’t really helping the conversation and avoided his eyes the whole time. The same sort of thing happened over and over again as we ran into each other over the next few days; I would be too nervous to flirt or say something remotely interesting, even if I told myself not to freeze up.
I was hopeless, and my awkwardness was going to ruin this!

Last night, I decided to try to redeem myself. I was going to Zee’s going-away party², and afterward, DG and I were going to The Club (the club that The Business School students go to every Thursday night). He was going to be there, that much I knew. So I drank, a little bit more and a little bit faster than normal, at the going-away party, so I was sufficiently drunk (but not sloppy) by the time we got to The Club. He was one of the first people we ran into, but it was in passing so I didn’t get to talk to him. The rest of the night I spent switching between the dance floor and the table where he was sitting. But every time I went to their table, some guy I knew would spot me and come over to talk to me. Many of them were my classmates from last year, so we’d always be very excited to see each other (one guy even picked me up and twirled me around – he’s really strong). I don’t know how it looked to PLB, that every time I sat down, a new guy would come to the table. Somehow, I wasn’t sure the jealousy card was a viable strategy for me at that point. In between guys, I tried to have a conversation with him, but it was hard with the loud music. I did find it more easy to talk to him, and flirt, now that I had lost my nervousness. But still, he did not make a move.

DG got frustrated and decided that I needed to redeem my self-respect, so she dragged me away from him for nearly an hour. When we went to the washroom, we ran into him at coat-check. He was leaving?!
I waited outside the washroom for DG so that he would have an opportunity to talk to me. He did come over, explaining how he had an interview the next day so he didn’t want to party too hard tonight. Understandable, but I was still disappointed. We hugged a couple times, but he seemed no more interested in me than any other guy I’d seen that night.

DG was more upset that PLB left than I was. “What the hell is wrong with him?” She shouted, a little too loudly. A guy nearby overheard us and said, “Forget him. I would never ditch a girl like you.” I rolled my eyes as a signal for him to move on³. Why was it that, today of all days, when the last thing I felt like was hooking up with a random guy, guys would hit on me so aggressively? Even the cab driver had offered to go out with me to “make that guy jealous.” (Yeah, I was pretty creeped out. I mean, obviously cab drivers eavesdrop, but isn’t it a cardinal rule to pretend not to be able to hear the passengers? Much less getting yourself involved and hitting on a girl at least ten years your junior?)
“Come on, let’s go get you a guy,” DG said as she dragged me to the dance floor.
“But I don’t want a guy,” I whined, although I didn’t think she heard me.

In the end, DG found a guy, and I went home alone. Am I really that pathetic? I guess I am.

1. God, I hope so. Because if I’m just making things up in my head again, I am going to feel like a huge fool.
2. She’s going to Australia for medical school at the end of the week.
3. Later, that guy found me on the dance floor and I literally had to push him away and tell him, “I don’t want to dance with you!” before he got the message.