Waka Pass Diaries

August 22

There are some guts some people get, some kind of liver they carry that makes me wonder if we’re all in this same homophobic, gay-hating country together.

A few days ago, I was at ICM to see a movie with a friend. I got to the mall before her so I decided to wait for her in Cold Stone. ICM these days fa, no waiting area for free o. Wherever you sit, you must buy from them or else their security will come shoo you away. I wanted to have ice cream anyway, so I bought Cold stone and settled into a booth, reading my Shopaholic novel while slurping through my ice cream.

Then this nice-looking guy approaches my booth from the counter. He’s just bought his own ice cream and very politely asks to share my table with me. I found him asking very nice and odd as well, because I hadn’t colonised the table. He could’ve just sat without having to ask me. And it wasn’t the ‘I’d like to sit please’ kind of asking. It was the ‘Can I please share your table’ kind, complete with a pause, as though he was waiting for me to give my permission first.

I said “Sure”, and he sat. I was barely even disturbed by his getting settled at the table.

So there we were, going through our ice cream and reading books. He’d brought out a book to read too.

It wasn’t long before I felt his foot brush against mine under the table. Without thinking anything about it, I moved my leg away. Seconds later, his leg made contact again. This time, I reckoned he was looking for leg space, so again I moved mine out of the way. Then the third time was a more deliberate motion: he actually brought his leg and placed it halfway on top of mine.

Startled, I looked up at him. He caught my eye and winked. My brethren, my instant thought was: Chimooo! They have come to kito me in Cold Stone.

I was almost done with my ice cream by this time, so I kuku hastily scooped up the few remaining mouthfuls, dumped my book in my bag and fled.

It wasn’t until I was on the escalator heading upstairs to the cinema that I entertained the thought that perhaps he was just a thirsty gay man with a good gaydar who’d zoned in on me and was just trying to get something started.

But then, when you’ve been Pink Panther for the length of time that I’ve been, reading through and listening to too many horror kito stories, then your instinct to what may be harmless flirting will always be paranoia instead of pleasure.

Written by Pink Panther