Deja Ewww

When I moved to KL, one of the things I had to contend with, besides the logistics of uprooting my base to a new city, was unfinished business with R.

R was a fella I had met years ago, and then lost touch with, and then met again a few months before I left HK. It was a random hook-up of sorts, tinged with a hint of history (if you can even call it that), but suffice to say that it was familiar, it was comfortable and with the attendant stress of the move, he was a welcome respite.

And then it all went pear-shaped, what with unreturned phone calls and unanswered text messages, and just a general sense of WTF. It was a bit much to deal with, and it didn't help that he stood me up for dinner on my last night in HK.

I eventually let it go. What can I say, I like to give people I care about many chances to prove me wrong. That was 5 years ago, and time has helped us settle into a tentative, cordial 'friendship' of sorts.

So I was in HK this past weekend and had arranged to meet R for drinks. Which we did at the club, but R was busy with a new dancing partner who he was getting super chummy with on the dancefloor. I was too busy catching up with my mates at the bar to bother.

At about 4am, R comes stumbling to me, saying he thought his drink might have been spiked and that he wasn't feeling well. He asked me to help him home. Given that I was about to head back to my hotel room anyway, I obliged.

After a short cab ride, a bit of him upchucking on the side of the road and lots of stumbling, we were in his apartment. Then he asked me to help him undress, which I did, cos I'm a good person and he was genuinely out of it.

I didn't expect him to then snog me and start to generally make out because all I was thinking was "You've just thrown up and you've not washed your mouth!"

We eventually fell asleep but I woke up with a horrible cramp on my right arm where R had laid his head and fallen into a deep sleep. I had about 3 hours to clean up and pack to catch my flight, so I got up and made my way out of his apartment. But not before I noticed that I was covered in cat hair (his Persian's) and that there was tobacco all over his bed.

What a difference 5 years can make. Or rather, not.