Vortex

Life is a performance, and to put on a good show, one must always be well-prepared. Though I tried to be different – abiding by a self-created motto: ‘The best way to get prepared is not to prepare anything’, I nowadays stick to the cliché: ‘If you fail to prepare, prepare to fail’. The best of the best comedians – Russell Peters, Zhang Di, etc., may appear as if they can create a joke on the spot, it is not hard to imagine them practicing over and over in front of a mirror in their mansion. While everyone wishes to be great at impromptu acts, such is a task not many can perform.

I want to look good again, and long before today, a friend had invited me to her birthday party at Phuture. I did not want to dance like a pudge, with fats bouncing up and down, and a few minutes later, you would catch me sitting on the couch, sweating like a butcher and huffing like hell. I decided to resume what I left off a few years ago, when I aspired to be a pick-up artist. So close was I to this goal of mine, so close was I to getting laid more than I ever wished in my life, but for a good cause I thought, I trampled upon the road always taken – a serious relationship. I told myself to give myself a chance to love and be loved again, so I gave up on a promiscuous lifestyle. A mistake it seemed so big, that a hunk, an Adonis or a Casanova, has turned into a slobbish and obese beast in two years. Regretful that I was not ‘strong’ enough to ‘play, play around and play along’ and not determined enough to withstand loneliness, a ‘serious’ relationship took a toll on the once reputable king of prom kings – Mr. MUFY, Mr. Sunway and Mr. Monash. But what is done is done. Many laugh at my corpulence today, but I must tell them that: ‘I may be fat now, but I can lose weight. But you are ugly, and there is nothing that you can do about it’.

I cannot recall when exactly (even though I desperately tried to set a day that I can always remember as a special one because it is a new beginning) I got myself motivated enough to step foot again in the gym. Either 2nd, 3rd or 4th of August but it does not matter because the result is most important. The result could be more astonishing if I had started earlier, but it was not too late for me to be back in the game. Running like a lab rat in the gym almost everyday, I managed to lose some fats on the tummy. The day before the event, I was ransacking my wardrobes for my old outfits, choosing one for the big night. Tonight, Ze Seng asked me how I have been ‘fatt hao’-ing (being narcissistic), I casually answered that I just went for a facial treatment and a haircut. He replied with that ‘is that all you did?’ or ‘is that even called ‘fatt hao’?’ gaze. Little does he know that much work was being prepared before I showed up again at Zouk, but I shall skip this part because ‘nobody wants to know the labor pain. People are just interested in the baby’.

Standing before the place where I used to work, I could not recognize Zouk at all. It was crowded outside, and I could not tell which entrance would lead to Phuture. I proceeded to the counter with the VIP guest list. Granted the privilege to access any room I wished, I excitedly trotted into the place, and as usual, my detector began to function – Not much. I met Yen the birthday girl, gave her a hug and wished her, then we started drinking some Black Label and Hennessy V.S.O.P. Without further ado, I went scouting for some chicks. A few there was in Velvet, but since the night was still young, I did not turn on the ‘aggression’ button yet. The interchange of cigarettes and liquor while waiting for more friends of hers and midnight to arrive (so that lycanthropy can take place) was not a pleasant treatment to the stomach, especially a rather empty one. When the time came, the place was already packed like sardines, and one could barely move. I wiggled my way out of the place and safeguarded myself in the lavatory of Terrace Bar. Pants down, and there went some stuff needed to be rid of my system. Pants up, and my head was facing down, vomiting through my nose and mouth. Long time never go for clubbing, perhaps? But I think that I really hate the taste of liquor nowadays. As I staggered out of the toilet, I bumped into Max, the floor manager of Terrace Bar. Immediately, the chatter began, but I had to sit down, and he talked to me standing. I ordered some juice and a ‘Zouk’ burger, which was totally sumptuous, even though the price is exorbitant. While waiting, a man and a woman sat opposite me. I could not help staring at the girl’s cleavage and the two pieces of fair, oval flesh on both banks. She might have noticed, but I was still staring. The guy asked her to sit next to him, but she refused, saying that the sofa was very cold. I wondered whether they were a couple, but most of the time, I was more interested in something else. The guy left temporarily, and I could have walked up to her, but as usual, I was too chicken. I sat there staring at her, even into her eyes when she looked at me. I could have smiled, but I did not because she did not smile first. She looked at me again, but I was already looking somewhere else.

When I dragged myself back to ‘hell’, I took another round in search of babes. There must have been a case of kidnap because most of them just disappeared. Someone told me before that pretty girls leave early because guys would bring them home to fuck. Maybe, it is true. It did not matter because at that moment, I came to the realization that what I miss most about clubbing is not the liquor, the cigarettes, nor the chicks. It was dancing! I could be seen dancing intimately with the birthday girl. Kin Foong gave me the ‘Go get her, tiger!’ look. Because it was steamy, stuffy and smoky altogether, I did not stay for long. I checked out Velvet again, dancing alone in the crowd. Ze Seng and I agreed that the music at Bar Sonic – House – was the best. We disliked the music in Phuture because it was some old-school R&B. Later on, in Phuture again, I was rocking with the birthday girl. Like a girl, I shook my big booty, rubbing it against her midsection. Everyone cheered suddenly, and I blushed a little, if I ever did.

Like a phantom, I teleported to Velvet again, dancing alone and discovering some new moves at the same time. This occurs to me when I have not danced for a long time. Everything was from scratch. I was at the stage of self-discovery again. I could not have done it without a few pounds lost and a flat tummy. My stamina was back. I could go on and on, invigorated. It was then that I also realized that liquor and cigarettes are not necessary at all to getting (me) into the mood of dancing. When I felt the initial pleasure of dancing after that heavenly burger, I already told my friends that the next time I go for clubbing, I am not going to drink or smoke. At the end of the day, instead of an intoxicating night, it was a night of working out and sweating off some extra calories. This has brought me closer to the goal of totally defeating another friend who is in a slimming contest with me.

Tonight, a myth has been broken. The claim that Phuture is filled with hot chicks is an overstatement. There was a few, but they left early. The rest was just average. My friend said that my taste is too ‘high’, concurred by Kien Lung before tonight. While this is true, it is also because I have seen much prettier ones that will really mess with your mind. Japanese AV idols and some on the street that can keep you awake all night (sometimes even after you have jerked off), are the ones that most guys dream of, but never dared to approach. I am still an ordinary man, but I want to play with the fire. In this life, there are already too many shattered dreams of mine, so please god, if you ever exist, help me out with this, if not other more consequential things. In the beginning, when my friend Shereen saw me bored, she said: “Just have fun!” She thought that I was going to let myself down just because I did not pick up any girl. I am a better man, not the one that has high expectations and gets disappointed later. I can find happiness in anything and everything, and this time around, the pleasure was in dancing. I already know how to be myself, feel comfortable with being myself, have fun and be cool with anything, even though the old King may criticize me for failing again. Old King, today is just day 1. If you want to be harsh on me, I am going to be very hard on your past.

As usual, some persuasion was needed before Kien willingly trotted onto the empty basketball court with me in the wee hours of the morning. There, under the glaring spotlights, we fought like real men. Kien is a man because he did not chicken out, which is the kind of attitude that truly gains my respect. In a Thai boxing stance I started, and both of us were testing each other’s water, raising our knees mostly in order to protect ourselves. In the past, I would throw punches, but after not sparring for so long, my natural offences were kicks, turning and side ones mostly, trying to penetrate into Kien’s flawless defense. Then, a few attempts of modified uppercuts had only frictions with his midsection as the force of my punches was reduced by his guard. But I recall one that successfully caught his abdomen. Kien retaliated with a few straight punches, but were shielded by my arms. Kien, a former Taekwondo practitioner, unleashed some of his rusty kicks, but as Taekwondo practitioners attack with their feet, inevitably bumped into my jutting knees. My preference for using my shins, as Thai boxers do, however, saved me a few painful counters by Kien’s knees. Switching my stance interchangeably between wushu (praying mantis-style), Thai boxing and Jeet Kun Do/Wing Chun, I attacked most of the time while Kien defended. Kien started to sense my exhaustion and was prepared to charge, but I called for a break.

The second round was a match of submission wrestling. I interlocked the fingers of both hands in between his and was grappling for just a few seconds before I moved in to apply a headlock. With Kien struggling, I attempted a takedown, but all I could do was lowering the position of his body and slowly dragging him to ground level. Kien was fast to react, as he countered with a headlock. I was pressing against him from top with a headlock while he applied a headlock to me from below. Then, with my body weight still rendering him immobile, I released my headlock deliberately in order to remove his. Having done so, immediately, I grabbed him by the head again. This time, Kien rolled me over and reversed the pressure, being on top of me, even though my headlock was still intact. As both refused to give in, I called for a break as any referee would.

The final round was a boxing match. As we agreed not to attack the head, we commenced. Kien, like a Western boxer, with both arms guarding his midsection, swung to the right and left, as I stood sideways. Without further ado, I charged and started throwing punches, which created a lot of openings for Kien to step in, and bang! One point for Kien for hitting my stomach. Fortunately, the thick layers of fats drastically reduced the momentum; therefore, not causing too much pain. There I went again, this time attacking incessantly, forcing open his shield so that I could have a shot. A few punches probably messily landed on his midsection, but his counter was clear-cut, with another straight to my left abdomen. In no time, I threw one huge straight that got his left chest. Panting, we called for our final break.

This is one of the most satisfying sessions of spar that I ever had in my life as we both got involved in three different types of matches. Citing Fight Club, what is the point of living in or leaving this world without any scar? The notion of masculinity has, however, evolved or been redefined in this capitalist world – A real man is one that earns a large sum, gets laid all the time, and is good at computer. The archaic form of masculinity, that is, skills of survival in the wilderness or those of combat, has been obliterated. There is a shift of emphasis from physical prowess to mental acumen, with the latter being the ‘new’ type of masculinity. While certain movies such as G.I. Joe celebrate physical capabilities, masculinity is also related to one’s mastery in handling weapons and technologies. Fighting barehanded is the rawest, quintessential type of masculinity that boils down to courage and spirit. Furthermore, action movies may stimulate us, but they are after all fiction, and to orchestrate these in reality, the closest, safest and most convenient thing is sparring, although some may suggest joining the military or getting in a gang fight.

One can learn from his mistakes through sparring. Kien said that he should have been braver in attacking, not playing safe all the time. As for me, I know that I should really work on my stamina as my breath ran out pretty quick. Another interesting thing about sparring is that you need to read your opponent so that you can defeat them. It is important to address here that while mental acuity is indispensable in a fight, it is not an attribute of masculinity. This does not, however, mean that masculinity is all about brainless brawl among men. It is about having the audacity to go eyeball to eyeball with another man and engage in a physical contest. It is about possessing the intrepidity to get hit in the face, lose some teeth, spill some blood, break some bones, and still continue. Citing Rocky Balboa, it is about taking punches and still go on like a man. Nonetheless, as mentioned, intelligence is required to obtain success in a fight, and is the part where you predict your opponent’s move, seize an opportunity to attack and above all, learning on the spot how to break down or get around your opponent’s defense and at the same time, maintaining or strengthening yours.

From playing Street Fighter with Kin Foong, having Ken Loong break his promise twice to spar with me, to always talking too much with Ze Seng about sparring since high school (but the last time we sparred was during high school), all that dissatisfaction and disappointment vanished when I sparred with Kien.