The Club Of The Beautiful

Sometimes I’m guilty of not being a patriot. It’s not that I don’t love my country, but I’ve never really pitched about Singapore with the same fervor and glee that I engage my conversations about the nightlife of other countries.

I’ve preached endlessly on the marvels of a Singaporean passport in Bangkok and how it accelerates getting someone naked into your bed and how Taiwan is flooded with pretty faces, which makes clubbing an absolute distraction. And all I would have said about Singapore is that the water is safe for consumption and you need to worry about getting shot in the streets.

I should and I will compile a comprehensive guide to partying in the sunny – and I mean bloody humid – island we call home. For now, I will also admit that we do actually have quite an impressive stable of beautiful people and you actually only need to be at one place to enjoy the view; Butter Factory.

I was just exclaiming how impressed I was at the general caliber of party goers there are in Butter Factory couple weeks back and it came to a point where I was asked to put it in quantifiable terms, so I said,

Me: “Just imagine Room 18 in Taiwan, but one head shorter.”

Now, if you’ve been to the clubs in Taiwan, you’ll know how insanely good looking the girls are over there. And by that I don’t mean your normal pockets of gorgeous people cleverly isolated at the prime visibility areas, but actual sizeable groups of beautiful people at every turn of the eye.

I swear, when I was there the last time round with LB, I was in such awe, I was drinking so much less because I was gawking half the time. The only problem with Room 18 – crème de la crème of Taiwan -, was that the girls were largely models and on heels and I could have auditioned for the role of a hobbit.

The great thing about Butter, or this being Singapore, is that with pretty faces and killer cleavages – hardly to be honest – comes a lack of height. I secretly rejoice that women here aren’t generally tall.

We’re at the all the clubs a lot because of the nature of our work, so my word is credible enough. There really isn’t another place in Singapore at the moment that houses that many good looking people, while serving alcohol, not even the perennial big wig that is Zouk.

Yes, I know the queues are insanely long and I’ve heard stories of 1 hour queues even, but those are for the un-privileged in a capitalist world. And it’s good because Whales do not have that much of an endurance to stand that long without rupturing a vein at the ankle, and so they won’t turn up there.

Apparently being a reader of mine also has its perks because I got two of you in and all they said was, “Butterfly” and they offered to buy me a drink. Okay, maybe I was swayed largely by the prospects of alcohol, but that’s what you call quid pro quo.

Reznor no longer shares this perception as me because his penis is being chained for now, but generally every other of my friend who has been there concurs to this. There was one night I was so impressed with the crowd, I told them.

Me: “This is good. There are at least 8 people in the immediate vicinity that I would want to date and marry.”

Everyone thought this was funny, except the girl that was with me.

She: “Then you don’t need me tonight.”
Me: “How about a hand job first?”

She was not amused. Women are hard to please these days.