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Malaysian Alien


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Monday, April 09, 2007
The Leap

This title, ‘The Leap’ crept into my mind somewhere between the qualifying round in Sepang on a sweltering Saturday afternoon and writing this down concretely two days later. This leap is not like any other leap. It is not even like Armstrong’s ‘one step for man and one leap for mankind’. But it has its significance.

It is a leap that I never made. Which makes it significant, almost as significant if I had made it.


On a very hot Saturday, I sat with some friends on a table next to the mobile air conditioning unit. Smart move, I thought to myself. I am full of praises when praises seemed to lack. There were of course some empty seats, which were soon taken by a couple.

The girl was blonde with pretty blue eyes. Her legs were as long as a fashion runway. It only meant that she was a Swede. Her friend was this old fashion Bond type of guy. Actually he reminded me of Kurt Russell; chiselled jaw line and eyes that were beautiful because they were aged.

It was amazing to see how people eagerly queued up for Tiger beer. Each can was selling at RM16 and lots of party makers out to celebrate their favourite racing team. I sat in my seat wishing that I was there selling those beer instead of sitting prettily in my white shirt. At least sweating had an excuse then.

Soon the couple moved on and another moved in. This pair quickly introduced themselves and beer cans were clicking a few seconds later. Barry worked for Renault and Jeremy for Mercedes. I eavesdropped their conversation while politely engaging in my group’s random conversations. Barry reminded me so much of Mumbles from Happy Feet. He was so cheerful and it was infectious.

Politely I asked what all Malaysians ask foreigners. One, ‘Where are you from?’ to which they replied that they were from Perth. Two, ‘How long have you been travelling?’ They flew into Penang with their wives two weeks ago to enjoy the sun and sea. Then the wives dutifully broke their wallets on their week long shopping adventure and flew home the day before the Malaysian GP began.

‘Yup,’ Barry said as he nodded his head, ‘Our wives shopped till they were tired and went home. Now we are free to get piss drunk at the Malaysian GP.’

I could almost hear their boyish snickers. Jeremy got up to buy another round of exorbitantly priced beer. Then they continued talking about how they travelled to quite a few countries, the wives to catch the shopping and the husbands to watch the GP. They were very engrossed in their GP talk, contemplating whether they could fly to Singapore for their night race (there is a rumor going on) and if they should then go for the Monaco GP.

We parted ways 10 minutes before the qualifying round started. They were sat near us in the K1 stand but not close enough. In front of me there sat a girl, sandwiched between two Indian guys to her left and 4 rather rude Chinese men. Now I call them rude because she had shown her disapproval of the four men drowning her with their smoke but they continued to do so, chain-smoking their way to hell.

I do not smoke but all my friends do. So technically I had no problem with smokers. Feel free to wreck your body but do not wreck others. Especially not a young girl sitting all on her own. I wondered what made her go for the race on her own and be on her own. Did she not have any friends to join her? Was she the only one who loved the sports? Was she like me, unable to make her leap?

Everyone seemed happy with the qualification round, so we sat down for beer again. It was a mighty good way to beat the traffic, which was absolutely crazy. The two Swedes joined us again. I guess it was comfortable to seat next to people you were familiar with. They were chatty and we eventually shared a cab back to the city.

Oh I loved the steaks in Maredo’s. A big group of us went this time and I found myself sitting between Toni and Mary. Having had dinner with Toni twice previously, I was quite comfortable having him for company. His wife, Mary was a chatty and bright lady. It was so refreshing to talk to her and the evening was spent trading stories of the F1 and girl’s favourite hobby, shopping.


There were some couples and there were some singles sitting together at the dark dining table that night. The fact that there were singles always made me feel better. I never had to feel like a space alien in the company of couples because there were some other aliens like me. Plus it was nauseating to watch couples smooch each other at every alternate minute.

The leap made me see that couples did couple things. That was the leap. You start out as a single and you did single things. Like bar hopping together or travelling with a bunch of friends. Then you couple up and do the leap. You leap into a different set of activities; activities which often involved both partners, in one way or another.

Like the golf and spa promotion I saw in Hilton, Phuket. It promised to be this romantic holiday package, where both partners had special activities planned for them. It was designed for two or more couples to go together The men played golf and the ladies had their spa pampering sessions. Something like group sex minus the sex. Daytime the girls hopped onto their boutique spas and the boys went to the greens. Then the group caught up with each other in the evening, for dinner and socializing. Apparently couples who could afford this lifestyle signed up for activities like these together and their single friends were not invited (much to the relief of the singles).

So all the boy buddies could burp and fart as they pleased. Perhaps it gave them a sense of manliness again after living 3 months with their wives in houses made out of fluffy white pillows and soft beige curtains. The ladies got the pedicure, manicure, spa and gossip session they so craved. It rejuvenated and reaffirmed their sexuality and soul.

Now I understand why most couples (especially the men) felt that it was not okay to stay in their ex’s apartment to save money while travelling. They have leapt where I had not leapt before. I did not do the couple leap!

Due to geographical circumstances (gee, I love to glamorize my relationship predicament) I have always gone out as a single and done single things. I have Alex but I have also spent approximately 50% of the year on my own. I do what is necessary to survive. You just have to. It is not a choice.


Perhaps it explains why I get the weird look whenever I ask my friends (who are all couples) hypothetical questions such as ‘Is it okay for me to accept an expensive gift from another man?’ and ‘Can I go travelling around Asia on my own/with SwedishLove?’.

Couples balked at my questions and now I know why. I have not taken the leap that all of them have taken. They, having their partners with them for the majority of time, do not function nor think like I do. They go for weddings with their partners whilst I battled between sitting next to a 60 year old spinster in three quarter 80s inspired tights and inviting a guy friend to be my companion. Since I do not have Alex and all.

If I had Alex, everything was resolved. Alex for lunch, tea, dinner and breakfast. Alex to keep me company all the time. Alex on week days and weekends. Alex to help me when I burst a tire. Alex to share my happy moments with. Like last week’s feature in KL Lifestyle.

And since I did not have Alex, I had to get creative and survive the social circuit. Sometimes I went out for meals on my own, sometimes with this friend and that. Sometimes I went for movies on my own and other times with some guy friend or guy friends. All the girls are hooked up and resort to abandoning me come weekends and holidays, so I had to resort to hanging out with the boys.

And I have always hung out with the boys, from childhood with my father and brothers to teenage years with a bunch of boys from a nearby school to adulthood with various groups of boys. Some of whom I go out solo with and others in big groups.

I just realised that I am a 31 year old woman who has not made the leap. I think like a single because my partner was not (and still is not) around to do the things that couples do. Not even for simple activities such as grocery shopping or dinner with couple friends. I was always with some other boy when I went out for 'couple' dinners. Alex was never around.

Plus most of his friends are single boys. (One tied the knot last weekend to a older woman with two kids. Perhaps I could do dinner with the newly weds?)

And I am bound by the rules of the single, whether I liked it or not, which currently, the answer is ‘NOT’. I have not leapt.


‘Is he flirting with you?’

‘He is not!’ I said, putting my hand down after waving goodbye.

‘Did the Italian just flirt with you?’ she asked again.

‘Oh you can’t call a wave goodbye flirting!’ I replied, ‘And I was not!’

To be honest I did not know if he was Italian. He sat at the next table, his back in my direction. Every so often this Colin Farrell lookalike (with chubbier cheeks) turned around in my direction and carved a smile on his face with his index finger. Smile, he seemed to say. I bat my eyes and looked away each time he did so. It seemed to amuse him even more. Why do boys seem to ask me to smile all the fucking time, I asked myself. He was not the first man to catch me dreaming in the middle of a conversation with friends and he was not going to be the last man to privately encourage me to smile.

Two other men caught me dreaming too. They were on the table to my right and somewhere between dreaming about what I would do during summer in the UK this year and how much I spent on my birthday month, one of them leaned his chair back. Right into the space where I was staring dreamily. I was startled. He smiled impishly.

I looked away to another space, to find my spot to dream again. He was still looking. His friend was looking at him looking at me dreaming elsewhere. I looked at them and they looked back at me. I looked away. Five seconds later, they were still looking.

The looking contest eventually fizzled out when his friends left. Only the one remained and he spent his last beer staring happily at me chatting merrily to the Swedes.

Make the leap, I thought to myself. You have to make the leap.

I have my very official stalker.
Alex has been reading this blog religiously in the last two weeks.
Or since my trip to Koh Phi Phi.

I should warn him that this blog contains materials that he might find offensive.
What do you think?

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if it's really gonna b offensive don't you think that'll only tempt him to read it more? lol

1:40 pm  

im glad you're still writing. :) well boys will read what they want to read whether u give them forewarning or not. in fact i've learned that if u tell them something is dangerous or dirty or bad, they will want it even more (oh so THATS why boys watch porn :P). sounds like alex is gonna keep reading ur blog :)rs

11:03 pm  

I am not too comfortable knowing that Alex is now able to read my inner thoughts but then again, I don't see any harm in it.

I believe that writers are responsible for their writing and as such, I am prepared to let him read whatever that I have written here. It is the world wide web, baby.

As a matter of fact, Alex loves his stash of porno.

10:21 am  

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