On making the first move

It's not that I don't want to make the first move when I see a cute guy, it's just that I'm not goddamn bold enough. I'm actually quite bashful, even more so when I meet people for the first time.

(Disclaimer: Only when I'm sober. When I've had some to drink, I can talk Chong's head off and meet the randomest strangers)

So last Saturday, I had dinner with my mum and my aunt. We walked to a nearby kopitiam, and on the way back, we decided to stop by at 7-11 because my mum wanted to buy some drinks.

Lo and behold, there was a cute guy paying at the counter. He was tall, a bit Japper-looking, complete with a biker hat and man-boots. Sexy. Boy, could he pull it off.

And by jove, he was looking at me. I don't know if this was because I'm naturally hot, or because of the outfit I was wearing. I had on my bright red singlet which I use to go to the gym with, and my blue and red Hawaiian bermudas which I use to go to sleep with. (Refer to an earlier post in which I mentioned that I am able to go out in my pajamas. Here is one occasion I absolutely regret having done so). I kid you not. That was what I was wearing.

I suppose I should have attempted to smile, but I was afraid he might mistake me for a panda (I had absolutely no make-up on, zilch). And so, he walked out after paying, leaving me staring longingly whilst he zipped past in a black Honda City.

Yes, yes, I know I should have smiled. Making the first move shouldn't be equated to skinning oneself with a rusty spoon or taping one's eyes open for 78 hours.

So I did, today. I saw a cute guy at Borders (an intelligent hottie, how exquisite!). Although he smiled first, at least I didn't immediately turn away and ask to be excused while I run to the nearest toilet to barf out of anxiety. I smiled back :)