A double macchiato and a club sandwich, not toasted, please.
A double Mac and a club sandwich. To have here?
Then I collect my food and beverage and plonk myself at one of the tiny round tables (known as a tablet) at Starbucks at the World Trade Centre Shopping Mall in Causeway Bay. I’ve got a couple of hours between the ex’s tea ceremony and the marriage solemnisation at Cotton Tree Drive, and I need to fire off work emails on my notebook.
This slowpoke notebook takes ages to start up, and even longer to log on to the PCCW wireless hotspot service. And when I’m finally logged in, someone is peering over my shoulder and asking me,
You’re not local, are you?
Erm, no. How can you tell? (While thought bubble is saying, ‘That’s cos I’m bloody speaking Engrish’).
‘Cos you’re different. Locals are not like that.
Where are you from? London?
Erm, no. Singapore.
Thought bubble: Wah lao. Gaydar redline already still can make joke! Stop it! Later go toilet kenah molest!
The Starbucks barista could possibly just have been trying to be friendly, and maybe I was a little tired. Tiredness makes me a little paranoid. So maybe he wasn’t trying to chat me up, and the old gaydar could have done with a little fine-tuning.
Growing up in the company of gay men, and being generally gay-friendly still doesn’t make me comfortable with being approached by gay men. But I have to admit to being flattered when I am actually propositioned. (Being propositioned by either gender, however, doesn’t happen very often, you see.) Most approaches can be
handled managed by a simple, ‘Dude you are barking up the wrong tree’. More aggressive approaches, however, require a more defensive stance. Especially when the approacher says something stupid like, ‘you sure you never been curious’?
There was however, one incident in a gay club (that is no more) in Singapore, where a very attractive woman approached me, announced she was a lesbian, and whispered in my ear that she always fantasized about having sex with a gay man, and asked if I was available.
All I remember was that my brain short-circuited, and it was possibly the only moment in my life where I contemplated selling out my fierce heterosexuality, even if it was just so I could get some straight sex.
Meanwhile, back at Starbucks:
OK, I’ll leave you and your double Mac alone.
Thought bubble: Jia lat! Is a Double Macchiato a gay beverage? But I like Double Macs. Fuck! Must change drink liao. Orange Mocha Frappucino. Hee Hee Hee!
It’s so crowded, you accidentally turn gay also you dunno.