Butterfly Does Europe

We all have things we want to accomplish in life. Things we hail as definitive milestones that will be craved with sybaritism and immortalized in our memories. Call it bragging rights, ephemeral phases of growing up or self-validation. Or maybe it’s just a silly list.

When we think of life as a journey and death as the great denominator of it, or the final destination, we measure the worth of life through the things we do. Some people chose to devote their lives with imaginary stuff like ‘cure for cancer’, ‘eliminate poverty’ or ‘gay marriages’ and they die not realizing their life was a complete waste and that it’s never going to happen.

For others, we party, get drunk and wake up naked with random strangers. Sure you might catch diseases, but that’s what the other fore-mentioned idiots are for; to find a cure for you.

I’ve added a new acquisition to my dating annals, one which has never been much of a priority but it took me quite awhile before I actually decided that passing off a hot white Caucasian female was something I cannot allow a lack of erection (and interest) to decree.

And so, I had to strike off two points in my infamous “To Do List”

How this actually started was nothing less than an accidental arrangement that was like accompanying your friend to a casting and landing the lead role instead. Yes, apparently being altruistic does pay off.

When LB first met Nat, he was smitten like a pussy to a bowl of warm milk. He started throwing words like, “smokin’ hot” and "damn power" at me. Yet, she was like any other Caucasian female to me, fair skin, blonde, sharp features and taller than me. This efficiently equated to,

“I know you are pretty, but I prefer that Asian skank over there.”

I was like the regular Asian lover. Deeply patriotic to my continent men and willing to sacrifice a night out at the Playboy Mansion for a chance to harvest rice with some prostatic-nosed Thai village girl. I was an idiot.

From a short conversation with Nat while smoking, I eventually managed to introduce her to LB. This eventually reached the ears of Round Eyes, who was also particularly fond of her and I soon became the only person who did not have a legitimate interest in her, other than to have her pick cereal boxes off the highest shelf at the supermarket for me.

There were early tell-tale signs, which I chose to ignore despite LB’s hints. For one, she loved Asian men, didn’t mind dating men who were slightly shorter than she was, loved shufflers and thought I was cute. I was a perfect match.

I knew that I was emphatically adored by ladyboys, had great affinity with Thais and appealed to women who were out for a gratuitous no strings attached revenge fuck or rebound, but Caucasians?

Nat eventually showed enough symptoms to be diagnosed with the horrible disease known as ‘interested in Butterfly’, the eventual outbreak of this is usually, excessive crying with horrible words like “do you love me”, but Nat was thankfully still in that infancy stage of getting pissed when I ogled at other women.

We met up for dinner couple days later and I dragged Round Eyes down with me. It was a simple construction of keeping familiarity and trying to pitch someone who had more interest in her than I did, to her. She lived in the apartment behind Wisma Atria and passing through town was one of the many routes I could devise from my office to home.

The dinner naturally didn’t work much to Round Eye’s advantage because he has serious socializing issues and Nat didn’t warm up to him entirely as I had hoped.

Nat was a contract dancer, much like the showgirls at the now defunct Crazy Horse, only except she got paid to keep her clothes on and entertained people with her group’s boring avant-garde arty silly ballet routines with a fusion of cabaret fervor.

I went down on a separate night with some of the guys after her set and she had already gotten herself inebriated enough to throw random confessions and desires to take me home. And she was dead serious about it.

She: “Darling, come home with me tonight.”

And my reflex response was to tap her on the head and say,

Me: “You are drunk, go home and sleep.”

What the fuck is wrong with me? Not taking advantage of the situation? Trying to play the chivalrous male who bears a conscience? I was utterly disgusted with myself. There were like a million better things I could have said like,

“Only if you swallow” or “We are fucking at the balcony”

And I said, “you are drunk, go home”? My gawd, I am a moron.

I eventually drove home and Nat started calling me,

Nat: “Darling, I can’t sleep. Can you come over now?”
Me: “I’m tired. I have to work tomorrow.”
Nat: “But darling, I want you to come over..”

This went on for about 4 calls, all of which ended with me choosing sleep over a possible night of mad sex at a $14,000 per month condo. I eventually got so tired of this, I switched off my phone entirely.

The next day I recounted what happened to the guys and they were convinced that I was indeed the biggest moronic dick head ever to be called an Asian. Some even thought I was gay. I was presented with arguably the pinnacle of sexual conquest in terms of racial context for an Asian heterosexual man, and I blew it off.

This was a girl that almost all of the guys in my group would have dropped their pants for in a second and my only excuse for it was, “I prefer Asians”. Amazing, if this bout of stupidity continues, I will have to cut off my dick myself.

It took me about five ‘what the fuck were you thinking’ reprimands, a bottle of beer and two nights of watching Prison Break alone at home to realize that I had passed off the greatest chance for me to nail two checkpoints in my list.

Nat was Caucasian and she was taller than me. This was like being hit in the head by a fucking gold bar and surrendering it to the police as evidence of killer litter. I had to arrest the situation and I did.

I eventually surrendered to all my inhibitions about dating a Caucasian, which included holding hands with her. She only needed a sash, some background music cue and I would have qualified as those little Asian kids holding the hands of the Miss Universe contestants and escorting them out for the pageant.

I already knew where the dating was going to lead, it was a matter of where and when I wanted the whole cordial conversing to degenerate into a parade of carnal explosion. The only problem was, unlike Asians who are generally more reserved (except the Japanese), my inexperience with Caucasian women proved that they took ‘reservations’ out of their Women’s Charter, some time after porn was invented.

Apparently, I was the bait. It was a matter of where she would have me and when she wanted it.

It almost didn’t matter that she wasn’t the best of kissers, or that she didn’t have the best of figures, because she made this up with so much dexterity that she moved between the front passenger seat and my drivers seat, almost as if she was some Beijing bound midget gymnast in an MPV.

She would tear into me like some voracious lioness over her kill, while I was pre-occupied with eyeing curious passerbys with ‘you can watch this on, we-fuck-in-cars.com’ stares. It didn’t matter to her if anyone was looking, or that she was close to being half naked, or perhaps she just had too much faith in tinted windows, but this girl looked like she was trying to prove that she could rape me if she wanted to.

I don’t know if the entire ordeal was a tease or a test of mantle, because having to drive down Mt Faber with someone’s mouth at your groin is like having to land a plane after your 7th bottle of whiskey.

There was nothing remotely romantic of how this whole episode started or had as much tickle in my heart as when I last went up with my Japanese Doll, but this was quite a thrill. Especially with a police patrol car tailing behind me and I had to start counting sheep and think of a valid reason as to why Nat wasn’t wear a seat belt and had her face buried between my thighs.

It was a separate night when Butterfly conquered Europe, and there wasn’t even a decent cable TV to celebrate it with.