civil warfare

Again, I wage war against myself. Jon versus his integrity. It’s so tiring to exercise self control. I just want to kiss her.

We’ve returned from the yacht excursion. It guess it was kind of imperative to bring along a date, so I brought z. Back from the States, hot, sexy, intelligent, I don’t ask for more. Plus she just got a new hair highlighting job yesterday afternoon.

It was rather interesting. An ex-client of mine in the finance sector just purchased his boat and got this yachting license. So this was some sort of house warming party or boat warming celebration, whatever. Mercenary as I am, I brought Mr. Laptop along, and to good use as well, some of the blokes were interested in my portfolio. I can smell clientele from a mile away. Heh heh…

Back to the main event itself. It was a good mix of people, not exactly my contemporaries but probably 5-6 years older – mostly high-flying individuals and “young entrepreneurs”. A large quantity of finance people, bankers, insurers what not. A few designers, like myself, and models aplenty. I was there for 2 reasons. The contacts and the girls. Yea, I make my intentions clear from the start. As the night wore on, more and more people get tipsy and that’s really where the fun begins. I’m not so much into lots of physical contact but I enjoy buying women drink, talking them and then leaving them craving for more. Heads turns when I walk pass and I enjoy the attention pretty much. It was no different today. I was feeling all the more confident and cocky for some reason. A few Caucasian or British to more specific babes around the place. I took four of them at a go. A bit embarrassing though, I respect them, but I underestimated a bit. Besides, when you’re four chicks versus one dude, you’re courting trouble. I’m fond of one of them though, got her number rather simply. I might contact her. Spoke to another Indian architect, he’s a very friendly chap and not into immoral stuff. I enjoy intellectual conversations. He introduced his wife to me (which is a mistake btw), Northern Indian, stunningly beautiful. I talked to her for a while but things became messy when she stroked my arm. Needless to say, I left, I don’t like being a party pooper or the originator of a brawl.

I must have mingled around with a good proportion of the women, because looking around, I didn’t see anyone new. Those I didn’t speak with, I had no intention to approach. Mission accomplished. There was a freaky karaoke session as well. I view karaokes as rather low-class. But since the set was there, I gamely sang 3 songs. Alright, I take that back, I didn’t do it “gamely”, there was a lot of back-pushing and “oei let Jon sing a song” chants. I was from the choir, and my dad a performance singer, thus I don’t think I have an atrocious voice. It’s not smooth and rich either, more so after chicken wings and wine. I sang for the crowd, for the Brit babe and for Z.

Z herself had a good time. Everyone was pretty much hitting on each other. Haha… I had to make sure she didn’t get screwed by all the male attention around her. She is after all, highly beautiful plus the fact she used to model. BUT the bottom line is she’s MINE for the night. Actually, she was mine for 6 months before. Integrity aside, I actually do like her a lot, only pride will keep me from going further than that. Note, it’s my pride I respect, not her punk ass boyfriend. I don’t care about boyfriends and while I respect husbands for their ability to commit, I care not about them either. If their wives’ hit on me, it’s not in my nature to say stop. Fortunately, the Indian architect was a nice man.

We went to Robertson Quay at around 4am for the night. I was getting very, very sleepy and didn’t want to take her back. Thinking about it, I don’t think she wanted to go home either.

Well, so here we are, I’m blogging with her head on my lap. I fight very hard against the desire to touch her. God help me. Everytime I look down at her, I feel like physical contact. She’s just so beautiful. In the end, I will try to think of something disgusting to stop myself from doing it. You know, I can’t help looking at her, and fondly remembering the 6 months we had together. I still care for her a lot. Yeah, a lot a lot.