life is like a season of The O.C. just when you think that you have such a rich and famous and financially stable career in this season, shit happens. at the flick of the scriptwriter's pen, you are eventually taken off from being a main character to a supporting role to simply a guest star whenever they can't fill up the plot with anymore stories involving Ryan, Marissa, Seth and/or Summer. just look at poor Anna who lost Seth to Summer. i like Anna. and i like Summer. but i think they shouldn't have cut her off. then again, if they didn't cut her off, she wouldn't be doing that Daniel Powter MTV and thus i wouldn't be talking about her in the post.

well, yesterday i got a taste of the high life, both literally and metaphorically speaking. i hooked up with Mr. Rafflesian whom i've had a crush on since i met him at Towel Club three days ago (read previous post for more info). now, i've almost always made it a policy never to keep in contact with anyone i meet in a spa. why? because i find it tedious to talk to people with whom i have had sex already. majority of the time, i end up asking a lot of questions cos the other party is too shy to talk or something. conversation topics can only range from school to work to penis length and number of times we've had sex. i mean there are the rare few who are just free and easy after sex and Mr. Rafflesian was just one of them. plus he was a Raffles Boy, so all the more he was a fantasy just waiting to be fulfilled. he's rich, he's gay, he's young and he's actually quite cute in a boyish way. and of course, not forgetting the Ivy League education that he's had. i measure inches by brains, not length-wise.

and so we met yesterday at three am in the morning at Borders. He stays somewhere behind Borders and i bet he can actually say something like 'i wear singlet, shorts and slippers to Orchard road to buy groceries because it's so near'. well, when we met he was actually tipsy already from partying with some of his mates. so the walk back to his home was kinda wonky. cos he was sober but not really there. and there was some commotion he had with his ex-girlfriend as well. we made small talk to his apartment.

and i'm going to be a cheena bukit here, but the private apartments where he stays at has artwork in the lobby lor. some impressionist shit that looks splattered with angst and loads of paint. but the fact is, where can you actually find a home that has chi-chi artwork in the lobby? i mean the only artwork i can find at my HDB apartment downstairs are the empty cup noodles and ice-cream wrappers left behind by the local kids. i prefer to call it exhibition art.

basically the moment i stepped into the apartment, both the themes of THE OC and LAGUNA BEACH were playing in my mind. like the apartment was so fucking big. ok lah. not really big also. but imagine a 3 room flat stacked one on top of the other. the whole apartment was so tricked out with art and stuff that it actually looked kinda like the art gallery lobby, except with sofas and cushions. and when you look out of the window, all you see is orchard road and perhaps some buildings.

we chilled at the jacuzzi which was located on the top of his apartment. it was breath-taking cos when you looked out, all you saw once more was orchard road and plenty of building and all this with the tune of THE OC and LAGUNA BEACH in the background. he brought out some pink wine (i think it was basically rose wine). and he mentioned that the bottle cost $250. i was flipping in my stomach. knowing that i was drinking this $250 shit. cos the most expensive drink i've ever had would prolly be some lame alcoholic shit at the club.

i mean what the fuck do they do to the wine to push it to it's $250 price tag? do they like pluck roses by the moonlight and crush them for the extraqct or some shit like that? or maybe they got George Clooney or Jude Law to personally crush the roses and the grapes and shit with their very own feet. i wouldn't know. i only knew it was a 2003 vintage and it got the desired effect which was to make both of us tipsy.

so we stumbled into his bedroom for sex. and his bedroom was awfully tiny. it's almost the same size as the toilet except bigger by about 2 toiletbowls. and i like to snoop around people's bedrooms cos you can find out much of their personalities by looking at their cupboards and stuff. kinda like ROOM RAIDERS. this guy here, has so many hangers in his wardrobe and none of it are used. everything seems to be just dumped into the cupboard. and it's pretty messy. he sleeps on a matteress that's like paper thin and there were like kiddy designs on it likE stars and toys and trains and stuff. it was boy-ish blue.

and so we had sex. curiously, the sex wasn't as good as i thought it would be. maybe it was because he was in this tipsy stupor. so he was blabbering a lot of nonsense about the 'RI boy fucking the ACS boy' (i have no idea why he thought i was ACS). and he kept going on in his ang mo slang with things like 'you're crazy' and 'good'. basically i was doing all the work, because he was drunk.

the irritating part? i didn't get to orgasm. after he climaxed, he went to pee, and then fell asleep. and that was like already 6 or 7 plus in the morning. i was very pissed cos i couldn't sleep on his paper-thin matteress. so i kinda tossed and turned and he was half-asleep and snoring and shit. we tried having sex at like 8 plus again. and after a while, i just gave up cos he was having a hangover and he was damn tired as well. so i washed up and left the apartment, thinking whether it was worth it waiting up till 3am just to meet him.

i realized that i left my watch behind at his home. and i wasn't really keen on meeting him again even though i still have this big crush on him. i might just give him my watch cos i see him only having one watch and it was this silver classic watch which was really boring for a gay guy. he really is style-challenged.

so while i was in the cab back home, i felt kinda used.
like i was this week's special guest on THE OC. a visitor to the high life for a week. and by the next episode or two, i'm gone. i guess i was never supposed to belong to the high life, as much as i wanted to. it kinda leaves you with a bitter after taste, just like that $250 pink rosea wine.

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