It was twenty minutes past midday as I walked into the front bar of the La Bodega @ Bangsar’s Telawi, and spotted Peter. I waved in Peter’s direction to see if he was all right for a drink but he seemed to be lost in a world of his own so I ordered myself a pint of Heineken and made my way over to Peter’s table.
‘All right?’ I asked, taking a seat opposite him.
‘Yeah, fine.’ He replied, who patently wasn’t. ‘You?’
I laughed. ‘As good as I can be.’
I leaned in towards my friend in a conspiratorial fashion. ‘What I am going to tell you goes no further, agreed?’
Barely able to contain his mirth Peter nodded frantically.
‘OK, so I went out on a couple of dates with a number of, you know, ordinary boys and they were lovely and all that but there was no spark.’
‘No spark?’ chuckled Peter. ‘Oh, mate, this is pure comedy gold! My man-eater-killer friend on spark-free dates with a long line of librarians! What I would have given to have been a fly on the wall!’
‘Look, you can mock me all you like, but this is my love life we’re talking about which some of my followers would consider sacrosanct, so be more respectful before I slap you!’
‘Fine.’ Said Peter. ‘No more jokes.’
‘So as I was saying I had these dates and there was no spark and I was on the edge of giving up when I met this boy... well actually you might even remember him as he was in my year at school, Lawrence Teoh?’
Peter shrugged, ‘Name rings a bell.’
‘Anyway, he was lovely in a cute kind of way but definitely not my usual type and so I decided to give him a chance and took him out for a coffee and well... he pretty much blew me away. He was smart, funny, intelligent and really good to talk to.’
‘And what happened?’
I shrugged. ‘I called him up for a date and he turned me down because –get this-apparently I wasn’t his type! Now that’s weird, right? How could he not like me?’
‘Are you joking?’
‘What? Are you going to give me some line about men all being different and how they’re not all into good looks and charm?’
‘Can you even hear yourself? You’re like ego on legs!’
‘That would be the case if it wasn’t true but I am afraid it is. I am like a bloke version of Harry Connick Jr and what gay man would turn down Harry Connick Jr?’
‘Me for starters.’ Laughed Peter. ‘He’s definitely not my type, way too tall.’
‘You’re telling me that if you weren’t with Daniel, and you were single and you hadn’t had a date with a men in like... six months and then one day you open the front door and Harry Connick Jr is standing there with that face, and those eyes of him, and he says: ‘Peter, how about it?’ you’d turn him down on the grounds that he’s “not your type”?’
‘Well put like that...’
‘Exactly,’ I replied. ‘I am putting it like that because it’s an undisputed fact that Harry Connick Jr is every gay men type (especially me!). Now given that in the original scenario we were discussing I was a bloke version of Harry Connick Jr why would any gay men in his right mind turn me down?’
‘But gay men are different,’ sighed Peter. ‘It’s not always about looks with them. Some of them are a bit deeper. Some of them go for the stuff that you can’t see and might actually be put off by the stuff that you can.’
‘So what can I do about it?’
‘Nothing, he’s blown you out, mate. That ship has sailed.’
‘You think I ought to forget him?’
‘Mate, all this is weirding me out much it’s untrue. But if you really want my advice – and why you’d want it I have no idea – I’d say forget all this right kind of men stuff and go back to what you do best.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Being a single. Believe me, mate, nobody does it better than you.’
Do you believe this?
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