The Second Date, And Everything After

It was probably a month ago that during a casual evening drink with some of the boys and a healthy dose of cleavage at Syed Kelana Jaya that Cipoi made an unjustified remark on Najua to me. He called her a “backstabber”. I call it unjustified because he was obviously just ill-informed. And I didn’t even correct him. Mainly because if I did, then I had to lay out to him and the rest the whole detail surrounding the second date which had completely rendered the horrifying experience of the first date irrelevant. That’s right, people. I did go out a second date with Najua. Needless to say, it was awesome. But I didn’t blog it, nor told anyone about it. This would be the first time. I don’t know why I didn’t. Probably because I never got around the proper angle on how to tell everyone how great it went. It was great but nothing really extraordinary about it. A 40 year-old guy and an aunt in a silver Audi, now that’s extraordinary. But this one, it was just a good classic date. Kind of like staying at the Hilton. It’s just a great stay. Nothing more, nothing less.

However, I finally decided (maybe even compelled) to write something about it because as a consequence of not following up on the entre about the first date has left some, if not many, under the impression that Najua is a wretched, and maybe even vile, woman for the way my previous evening with her had ended. I, for one, would like to dispel all those beliefs.

The second date took place at Starbucks, KLCC. As for when, well, if the meeting with Cipoi was about a month ago, then the date with Najua could might as well be long before that. Anyway, to start off, taking her to Starbucks was actually a bad idea because it was then that I found out that she hates coffee. She likened black coffee as a watered version of an ashtray. Quite a harsh comment but she did mention it was all her mother’s doing. The woman practically banned coffee from all her offspring since birth. So Najua ordered a caramel macchiato instead. Mental note to self: no more coffee and cakes sessions with Najua. Well, at least not coffee. Cakes are still delectable.

We spent about three and half hours together talking. It’s amazing what a little drizzle during the evening can do. As the sun sets in the horizon and the plethora of lights came to life surrounding the KLCC Park area, it can only be described as perfect. The only way it can be bettered was instead of the Twin Towers, it’s the Eiffel Tower that loomed over us.

One of the highlights of the conversation was the topic of breasts. In particular hers. See, she was complaining on how she wishes to have bigger breasts. I, in one of my rare exceptions of going against the normal male genes, thought her wishes are quite ridiculous. Primarily for the basic reason that she looks good as she is. Isn’t that what women want? For men to appreciate them as they are? If you already have a good package, then additional accessories need not apply. Take Eva Longoria, for example. Or Keira Knightley, or Natalie Portman. Women who aren’t exactly famed due to their prized assets but still held in high regards by the male public nonetheless. But then again, after seeing last night’s episode of Nip/Tuck, I think her motives are understandable. But I still she looks fine as she is. Why ruin something which by definition already beautiful?

Anyway, we got to more surprisingly serious stuff afterwards. We managed to tackle the subject of marriage. I asked her how in the world could she, a woman who share the same age with me, was mentally prepared for something as big as a marriage before the debacle with her ex took place. And she replied, as cordially as possible, that she just was. And she still is. It’s just that she isn’t ready to jump into a new relationship just yet. It’s one of those things, I guess. You just know, you know? Damn, I sound like David Carradine here. But for a moment there, I had to say I was kinda spooked by her cool demeanor on the subject. Because I, for one, am petrified by the husband concept, let alone embrace it.

But one of the interesting things when were talking about marriage was how the perception of it had changed according to modern times. Back in the days women used to get married for reasons of security and stability. Not so true nowadays where women could have such a formidable career that could even lead them to become CEOs of Fortune 500 companies and Prime Ministers that the aspect of securing a financially stable future that used to come with the promise of marriage has fell well within their grasp. In short, women have become so independent nowadays that she doesn’t need a husband for a Coach handbag or a trip to Europe every year. We both agreed on this and so, I asked her, since between the two of us, she was the one who got very close to matrimony.

“So, what, if any, are the benefits of getting married nowadays?”
“Erm…you could have sex more often,” she answered while a smile formed slowly on that thin lips of hers.

It was then and there that I immediately fell in love with her. How many women do you know who can come up with an answer such as “you could have sex more often” almost nonchalantly when asked about the benefits of marriage? Not many I presume. Most would probably come up with something along the lines of emotional support, as to display a fair amount of intelligence and reason, and to differentiate themselves from the sex hogs known as men. Nothing wrong with that. Just that it’s boring. Come up with a bold statement like the one Najua gave me and it’ll definitely spice up the conversation.

What came next was probably every man’s nightmare when it comes to dating – stories about the ex. Luckily, I’m getting it after she has passed the ‘I’m over him’ stage. So I got the objective and rationalized of what went wrong instead of all the crying, Kleenex and ‘Why meeheee?’ version.

However, as it weird it sounds, but I actually find myself intrigued by her storytelling. Particularly the part on how much she had contributed towards the relationship despite all the chinks that began to show up during the final stages before the break-up. I could not believe how lucky his ex was to have someone as wonderful as Najua and how foolish of him to lose her. The difference between Najua the girlfriend and Najua the wife is probably the absence of a golden band around her ring finger because she on par in terms of everything else. She practically took care him. From making his favorite meals to doing his laundry, on top of all the stuff girlfriends usually do (ie being beautiful and loyal. Oh, not to mention providing emotional support). I’m particularly impressed by the fact that once she even made truffles for her ex. Truffles, man. I’m not even sure if my mother could make truffles. And she even regularly made cheesecakes for him too. I mean, demmit, if I have a girl that would make sinful desserts for me just to cheer me up, then, hell, I would be more than glad to take her out shopping and pay for her shoes. But then again, that’s me. Watai, on the other hand, has a whole different perspective on it. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. But since when do I ever give serious thought about Watai’s opinions, anyway?

Fast forward to present and I’m stuck in this whole Najua business. For starters it’s the fasting month and, oh Selamat Menyambut Bulan Ramadhan, by the way, and there goes my modus operandi of asking her out for little evening drinks. Watai said my tactics of conniving dates around association with food is getting lame. True, yes, but it’s also the most effective.
“Kalau camtu, bile nak pargon nye, Badok?”
See? I told you I can never take Watai seriously.

I could ask her out for a buka puasa session. As a matter of fact I am planning this huge buka puasa get together of 12 people taking place at JW Marriot this weekend, consisting of Jes, Sasa, Aritha, Zalina, Apau and Acai among others. The thought of asking Najua to join the party has crossed my mind. At first, I thought, maybe since Ity has moved to Shah Alam, I could invite her (Ity). And by inviting her, she would also be inviting her hostess for the time being, that is, Marina aka Sandra Oh. Sandra, in turn, would invite Najua and then I could act all surprised and be extremely jolly about the whole affair when they all arrived in scantily clad dresses. Sadly though, Ity could not make it because she already promised to be with her boyfriend (boo~). Funny, isn’t it? I never knew or met Ity’s boyfriend and yet he has become a deciding factor in one of my elaborate scheme of things. Oh well, guess I have to ask her straight up then. But wait, by doing that I’d be taking a significant risk. The big question is, would she enjoy herself there? I mean, sure she knows some of the people but the instances when she actually had spent time with the rest of the gang is few and far between. She’s not as close as the rest of us are with each other. That could be a stumbling block. And by inviting her personally I’d be undertaking the responsibility of making sure she’s having none of that awkwardness and make her feel as comfortable as possible. Not to mention making sure that she enjoys herself as well. And I certainly have no time for such crappy nonsense. The last thing I want to come between me and a 5 star hotel buffet is undue stress. So? Another time, another place maybe. Warranted she doesn’t invite Paul along. It’s not as if he’s fasting, anyway.

Also, I have taken into consideration some of the requests made by a few readers in putting up a picture of Najua on this blog and finally make you guys see how we are MFEO (made for each other) (Gaby Hoffmann, Sleepless in Seattle). So you guys better pray for me in getting that third date.

All’s well that ends well, I suppose. On a parting note I’d like to make some discerning comments. The people I mention in this blog are true in existent, including the relations I have with them. I wish I couldn’t say the same about Paul but, yes, he too does exist. And no, Ridhu, I don’t exaggerate the facts. I just dramatize them. Ever heard of the term truth is stranger than fiction? I could be one of your prime examples.

It’s time for me to leave, people. I need to get to Pasar Ramadhan (Param) at Lorong Raja Muda and check out all the adorable young nurses from HKL dressed in their white uniforms and white canvas shoes like the ones primary school children wear.

We’ll talk about other women at a later date. Till then, people. Webek! Webek!