It'll be my good deed for the day.....

I was lying in bed wondering where my life is going. Since committing myself to my project to find the right-kind-of-boy over a month ago I had been on over a dozen disastrous dates without a shred of success

Of late I had persuaded my friends Darren’s boyfriend Jack to let to let me take his friend Andy for lunch: three days later I found myself on an unofficial blind date with my god son mate Sam, and a week after that I went out with Peter, my friend Martin’s brother who’s just returned to Kuala Lumpur after living in Singapore.

Each one of my dates had been cursed with the same affliction: they were all nice enough as people but as potential boyfriend there just wasn’t any spark or chemistry at all. Try as I might I couldn’t fake the slightest interest in their careers, hobbies, outdoor pursuits, countless godchildren, and cats (especially their cats).

But if that wasn’t enough (and I felt that it was, thank you very much), now that I had officially sworn off dating the wrong kinds of boys it was as if they were all determined to keep me from the straight and narrow. Wherever I went, whether for an innocent midweek drinks with mate, catching up with my paperwork in starbuck or even (as happened on one occasion) buying toothpaste in Cold Storage, young boys with beautiful faces and body to die for were making eyes at me. But whereas the old me would have coaxed them into releasing their phone number within a few minutes this new me had to bite my lips and head in the direction of the nearest cold shower.

Now, not only had I not had a date with a potential right-kind-of-boy for over a week but I also had nothing lined up for the future either. I reasoned that the best thing I could do to cheer myself up on Saturday morning would be take myself over to Bangsar find a nice cafe and treat myself to a slap-up English breakfast. Then I would head to Bangsar Village to hang around for my ‘meal for one’ chill cabinet in the hope of sourcing a few potential right-kind-of-boy dates.

Quickly getting dressed, I make my way out of the flat and ducked into my local newsagent’s at my lobby to pick up a Star newspaper. Whiling away my time in the longish queue at the till I recall various snippets of my conversation from last right-kind-of-boy date (had he really confessed that he called home from work twice a day to leave a message for his cats on the answeringphone?) and was oblivious of my surrounding until I looked up to see that the queue appeared to have stalled because the man directly in front of me was searching around for change to pay the copy of the Star newspaper in his hand. Tutting under my breath I reached into my pocket and pulled out a dollar and fifty.

‘Here’ I said, handing him the coin, ‘Take it.’

‘I really couldn’t,’ said the man, rummaging around the pockets of his jeans.

‘Go on,’ I said to him. ‘It’ll be my good deed for the day.’

He looked up and smiled. ‘Thank you. I really don’t know how I could have left the house without…’

He stopped.

‘George!’

‘It’s Haniff,’ I replied. ‘Haniff George and you’re..’

I momentarily scanned him mental image through my brain cells. A boy, A boy from high school. A bit of a brainbox. Not particularly exciting. May well have teased him about wearing braces. That was it.

‘You’re Lawrence Teoh!’

The last time I had seen Lawrence Teoh was probably on the day of my final English O level paper. He had been sitting at a desk a few seats in front of me and I remember being impressed at the speed with he had opened up the exam paper and started writing. He was easily the smartest boy in the school and was bound for greatness while I was, as the various teachers who wrote my numerous school reports never tired of saying, ‘very intelligent but inherently lazy.’

‘It’s got to be at least thirty years.’ I said, marveling how the time had flown.

‘Oh, don’t say that! It means we’re both really old and I don’t think I am ready for that. Look, let’s agree it’s been more like twenty and we’ll say no more about it.’

I paid for my newspaper and they we walked towards the door of the shop. ‘So what have you done with your two decade?’

‘Where to begin? After school my mum sent me to a private college, after that I went to Oxford, after Oxford I went travelling for awhile but I had to return early because my mum fell ill – it was just me and her you see – and then after she passed away I ended up moving to the US to work for a Bank in New York. Then I moved to a bank in Tokyo, then I decided I had had enough of both Tokyo and banking and moved back to Kuala Lumpur and bought a unit just cross the road and started working for myself.’

Although he had attempted to gloss over it quickly I felt he ought at least to acknowledge the fact of Lawrence’s mum’s death but then I remembered that we’re in the middle of the newsagent’s. This was neither the time nor the place. Instead I went for a much lighter topic. ‘Which floor are you?’

‘Ten floor, why?’

‘Fifteen floor, I am mates with your neighbours Keith. He live at fifteen floor!’

‘Small world.’ Lawrence smiled.

‘I can’t believe you’ve done all that in twenty years! You must never have stopped.’

‘Maybe I should apply for early retirement. Anyway, how about you? What have you been up to since school?’

‘Nothing that impressive.’ I replied. ‘Left school, further my study in Melbourne, then work there, travel around the world for a bit. Came back to Kuala Lumpur after my family lawyer been dragging me for a years – you know my parents both passed way in car accident in London ten years ago – now am filling up my past time with freelance work in food industry, setting up few cafe’s around here, and you might been to one of them! Like Chilla Cup, just round the corner’

‘That’s yours? Oh yes. I know it. Never been in it. Mind. It all looks just little too trendy and expensive for my liking. If I go out at all these days it’s more likely to be for a meal. Still, you must be doing really well to have your own company. Well done you.’

There was a long pause, most of which was my fault because I was engrossed in thought about Lawrence. He clearly wasn’t my old type. And he wore glasses. I had only ever been out with one other boy who wore glasses and he hadn’t actually needed them: they were part of a sexy buttoned-up look that had been popular at the time. Those glasses has been a prop, something to be removed in order to elicit the ‘Why Mr. Jones, you’re gorgeous’ response whereas I could tell that without his glasses, Lawrence would be struggling to find me. Still, in general, he fitted the right-kind-of-boy label and given that I had nothing better on me was prepared to give him a go if only to keep myself in practice. I checked his left hand finger. There was no ring in sight. I wonder if I should ask more questions but in the end decided I would better of just jumping in with both feet.

‘Look, don’t suppose you fancy going for a coffee do you?’

Lawrence pulled a face, ‘I’d love to, it’s just that ..’

‘Go on,’ I interrupted, flashing my best smile.

‘You know you want to. One coffee, maybe a small pastry and then I promise that you get on your merry way. In fact you don’t even have to talk to me. If I get boring you just whip out your newspaper and I won’t complain. Go on, what do you say?’

‘You’re not going to take no for an answer are you?’

I grinned and shook my head. He was putty in my hands.

‘Fine,’ He relented. ‘Let’s go for a coffee. But I really can’t be too long.’

Till then, let me enjoy my coffee first...