Flirting in Mandarin

                                                            

   

Flirted with a chap on Grindr who apparently doesn't write English. Not even Manglish.

Hence, I had to flirt with him in Mandarin. Only then did I realize it's actually pretty difficult to sound lascivious in my mother tongue, when you remove the auditory, visual and tactile stimuli which are what sex is fundamentally all about. 

I wanted write the word 'horny' in Mandarin. But, I had a hard time thinking of the correct translation. 欲火焚身？No. Sounds too idiomatic. I wanted something dirtier. Something that'd sound more sexually arousing. And for heaven's sake, I didn't even know the informal term for 'cock' in Mandarin. 阳具？Nah. Sounds too academic.

Just when Lucifer Jr. was beginning to get a little aroused, I noticed he'd gone offline. Haha. Couldn't blame him for being a bitch. I guess I was just too slow in replying.

Time to watch more Taiwanese porn, perhaps.

On a separate note, what's your Grindr-ing experience like?

It's actually quite flattering sometimes to receive requests for sex, which sometimes contribute to my having the delusion that I'm hot. For people who often look at their naked selves in the mirror and sigh in exasperation and hopelessness like me, even that tiny bit of confidence is good enough. Occasionally, I may even sound egoistic and indifferent on purpose, just for the fun of it, unless they're really hot and so my type.

One rule I've discovered about Grindr is hot guys are never nice, and nice guys are usually not hot. Guess I'm somewhere in between? And sex, which's what Grindr's principally designed for in the in first place, is almost always an inevitable topic of conversation. 

Gotta be less demanding. Otherwise, I think I'll forever be doomed to suffer the agonizing wait for the appearance of Prince Charming  in my seemingly never-ending bachelorhood. Displaying  the nicest pic which I've got in my entire photo album with the fugly parts skilfully hidden no longer works its magic.

Little things

I'm seldom impressed by popular artists who can sell millions of copies for each of their album, unless they're really talented and extraordinary. No doubt, the songs may be awesome and they do serve their entertainment purposes. Nonetheless, no matter how good they are, it's just their occupation. The same goes for a chef who can cook the most delectable meal on earth or a pianist who can play Moonlight Sonata 3rd Movement flawlessly.

But, I have a soft spot for guys who surprise me with their latent talents, which may be decidedly ordinary but awe-inspiring.

Let's say you're kinda into this cute guy who also happens to be a bit muscular. And then one day, you visit his blog, only to realize he'd posted your most favourite sentimental love song that he dedicated specially to you. Not sure how you'll react. But, I'll definitely search high and low for the 'Marry Me' button.

I came across this interesting blog authored by Chinese Prick in which he recently dedicated a Chinese song to a certain someone. I almost had a semi-erection after listening to it. He ain't an internationally renowned singer. However, it was really touching with his guitar accompaniment in the background. His voice was melodious and resonant and it suited the lyric perfectly.

Click HERE if you wanna listen. (Just in case you dislike it, please don't say nasty things, ok? Coz if you do, I'm gonna dislike you.)

Got what I mean? It's these lil' things that melt my heart. Things like being invited to his house for a meal he cooks, which turns out to be quite palatable, and followed by a session of passionate love-making. Things like receiving a cup Cuppuccino when you're exhausted and least expect it.

I got so hyped up last night and decided to send a certain someone my incomplete, rudimentary and out-of-tune version of Lady Gaga's Born This Way in the form of an audio note over Whatsapp. I had to sing it an octave lower. Surprisingly, I received a pretty nice feedback. Hahaha. He must have been too kind with his words!

Right now, I wish someone could sing me Bruno Mars' Just The Way You Are. *stares at Tuls*

Eager to work

Inexplicably, for the time being, I actually look forward to working. Not sure if it's because of the boredom that's slowly devouring me from the inside or the lack of social life in my hometown.

So, in a few weeks' time, I'll be called for the induction programme, after which I'll start working as a house officer ie. junior doctor, an uphill battle nothing in med school could really prepare me for. Frankly, I didn't graduate from a very prestigious institution. Will I still need to face the occasional jeerings and  blatant discrimination which I've been silently enduring?

Sometimes, you know that the derision or scoffing are not directed at you. But, you still feel the ginormous effect stemming from it. It takes away all your confidence and self-esteem. Ah! If only I was born with a silver spoon in the mouth. Yet, on a positive note, it makes you stronger. In fact, I believe that there'll come a day in future when I can proudly redeem myself and allay their doubts about my competency. 

What's more, rumour has it that compassion and a good attitude are qualities that come first before knowledge. Though I'm not sure what 'good' actually encompasses, I needn't worry much I guess. 

Maybe, I should just keep an open mind and venture into the profession which has partially lost the prestige and nobility it used to have. Having said that, it's still going to be a whole new world with a million things to learn, explore and experience.  And I'll meet new people, make new friends and perhaps, a gay neurosurgeon  destined to fall head over heels for me. Just a joke. But, you never know. And I wonder if the stories of gay housemen banging each other while on-call at night are true. 

Whatever it is, I'm expecting a weight loss of 5 kg in the first month of housemanship and a working environment akin to the gay version of Grey's Anatomy. And I hope I won't become the kind of doctor I don't want myself to be - a doctor devoid of compassion and who denigrates patients behind their backs.

My type

I don't remember attaching pictures of anything humanoid in my previous blog entries. Maybe, this is a good start. 

They're just random guys on Facebook that I find toppish and sexually appealing. They're merely strangers whom I have mutual friends with. Sometimes, it amazes me how on earth my friends get to know these breathtakingly handsome and gorgeous men.

Gay men who look toppish are to die for. Sometimes ( I repeat, sometimes), I can have an erection just by ogling at them on the streets. If the situation allows, I'd even subconsciously walk in a direction that enables enable me to draw freaking near to the target that captivates me at that particular moment.

Whenever someone asks me what the criteria my ideal dating partner should have, I'd just say it's fine, as long as he's top, masculine, doesn't smoke, isn't fat and equipped with a modicum of intelligence. I know, I know. I'm such a hypocrite. Meanwhile, I'm just being realistic, knowing that certain things that I hanker for are just reveries that will never come to fruition. There's only so much you can expect when you aren't a looker yourself. In the love game, certain rules are unspoken and tacit. Love is blind, perhaps only in fairy tales.

In order to make myself sound less shallow and desperate, I have to emphasize here that physical appearance isn't all that matters. After all, beauty is only skin deep.  But, let's not go into that now.

Lastly, if any of the pictures above belong to you, sorry. The reason I published them here is because you look gorgeous (in my opinion). If you want it to be removed, please do let me know.

Graduated

I guess it's time to update my blog.

A lot has happened.

I passed my professional examination. Which means my undergraduate studies has finally come to an end.

Frankly, I don't know how I survived the ordeal prior to the exam, a yardstick that would determine whether or not I was eligible for the title my degree confers. It doesn't take into consideration the previous glories you've had. If you fail to score above the passing mark, you'll have to resit in 6 months.

For the first time in 5 years, I cried during the examination period. I cried after talking to my mom on the phone too. I'm not intelligent. And the worst thing, I hadn't really worked hard enough. Hence, it's really stressful.

The vice chancellor was invited to to announce the names of those who made it through. Initially, I didn't understand why they had to make it so grand. I was so worried of being in the list of students who failed. I just couldn't bear the thought of myself enduring the embarrassment alone like a defeated warrior while others rejoiced over their respective victory. You wouldn't call me kiasu, if you could understand the helplessness I felt.

The moment my name was announced, my tears began to flow. With the immediate thought that crying publicly wasn't really congruent with the masculinity that I'd always tried to feign, I rushed to the toilet. I returned, only to realize that many of my comrades were eye-misted too and hugging one another.

I felt a sense of achievement though it was only the beginning of the career I chose.

And I finally understood why they had to make it grand.