Rejected

AZ called me that night.

AZ: I think I found your air-steward.

Joe: Oh really? How?

AZ: In my Friendster list. I didn't know he'd been there all the while. The one who looks Chinese, right?

Joe: Yeah yeah... Give me his ID. Quick!

AZ: I'll sms it you.

Joe: Wait...you're telling me he's in your Friendster list 2 months after I asked you to help me locate him?

AZ: Err...


Ever since the interesting encounter I had with Emmet, the charming air-steward, I'd always coveted the chance to befriend him or perhaps just meet him again. I thought it's pretty memorable. That's the first time in my life I knew my gaydar was functioning. The very first time a male stranger flirted with me non-orally... oh ..erm...I mean, non-verbally and made me feel attractive.

Thanks to AZ, I finally got his profile. My blood pressure shot up to 200 mm Hg when I recognized the guy on the screen and exclaimed, "That's him!"

I still remember the powerful energy which travelled in rhythmic waves from his eyes to mine, and vice-versa. I remember his angelic, radiant smile, which made my heart bloom with lust and joy. The gentle touch of his palm on my left shoulder, which made me fly. And his voice, which had a magical quality to it, that sent charges of electricity into me.

Yet, what shatters my heart now is that the message I sent him remains unreplied. It simply means he's not interested, doesn't it? I must have sounded a little too inappropriate when I wrote the message, during which I was blinded by excitement and elation, I suppose.

All of a sudden, I begin to doubt if our eye contact was merely a fantasy and his touch on my shoulder a tactile hallucination of mine. Perhaps, he smiled simply because he had too. Perhaps, I was really hallucinating. Perhaps, he's not even gay.

AZ asked me to forget about him. And I'm going to act upon his suggestion.

Why does everyone seem to have his own Prince Charming (especially one with a hot bod) to write about? Why? Sometimes, I really do wish I had one too. Really.