His Biggest Fan
I wonder if people are oblivious that they've already become a caricature. Some people really do beg the stereotype. Take this guppie (gay yuppie) I went home with. He's a good-looking, muscular, 40ish Chinese guy I met at the gym. He flirted outrageously in the locker room. Normally I'm a snob, and you really need a lot of self-confidence to get a response out of me.
Well, this guy did. A little too much, I think.
Typical guppie stereotype: witty, gym-toned, clean and perfumed, immaculately attired, branded and with an air of self-importance. Well this guy took it to the next level.
Unfortunately I met him when he was clad in a towel. Not wanting to perpetuate the locker room cruiser myself, I had agreed to go home with him. I dressed and waited for him outside...and it took him a good 15 minutes more than I did. He came out in a body-hugging polo and trousers that made sure you could see the curve of his hard ass, with a metal briefcase. Texting on his iPhone of course. And he had this huge friggin' bling around his neck with a gold chain that would make Jay-Z jealous.
"Er, what's that?," I asked. I hoped he'd get my hint and take the damn thing off so he wouldn't look like a fucking Sim. (You know, those video game humans with a diamond above their head.)
He merely smiled naughtily and said in a loud voice, "Oh something for you to play with." And he theatrically winked. In a crowded place. Boy I believed I blushed, along with several people around me. Oh boy one of those. He kept flirting outrageously and while waiting for the taxi, I sat down a good 1 foot away from him. "Sit here," he said and patted the space beside him. We were on a 5 foot long bench with only 2 other people sitting down. I slid 6 inches closer while looking down.
How do you maintain your dignity with a person like this? Maybe discretion is a bigger issue for Pinoys than these guys.
Luckily the two other persons ride appeared so I was spared any more theatrics and proceeded to have a normal conversation.
"What do you do?," I asked.
"I'm a coach." Hmm I don't think he's a football coach or such, as I looked at the metal briefcase.
"A life coach?," I ventured.
"A success coach." Ah. 'Splains better.
Now I thought we were heading for his apartment when he said he had a place nearby they gym. Apparently it was his office. Conveniently, he owns his own business. Of course, a success coach needs to be successful, right?
It was only upon entering his office that it dawned on me what a success coach would be like. I had expected -- you know, a private room with a couch like a shrink perhaps. Or stacks of books on psychology and self-help. Nope this guy was the "guru" kind.
Meaning, he had pictures of himself plastered all over. My estimate was 200. He was eve better looking in his 30s and the pictures suggested he used to model. He switched on the lights in his office and asked me to step in.
Wow. There it was. A lifesize standee of himself. In an angel outfit (if angels wore sleeveless shirts to show off their biceps) with some success slogan. The office was expensive and high tech. It had 2 main sections: the huge boss desk and big boss chair, and a chaise. And the wall was completely covered by a mirror. He switched on the lamp to full brightness, turned on the music and took off his clothes.
This isn't really happening, I thought. I was obviously not impressed by all the flashiness, but then again his physique was his saving grace. So we proceeded with the agenda of the meeting. Heh heh.
Until I realized he was watching us in the mirror. Or watching himself. That was the end of it for me. I mean, hell, this guy works with his lifesize image looking over at him every day!
"So you reaaaalllly like looking at yourself, " I stated and I laughed. I think he realized his obvious vanity and mumbled a sorry and turned his back to the mirror.
Unfortunately things went downhill from there. I tried to keep myself busy with the task at hand *Ahem* to shoo away these distracting thoughts. But alas the flagpole stood down and I just didn't see myself trying any longer. I can't do the porn acting even when this setting called for it. With an awkward finish, I dressed and walked out of his office while he took another extra 10 minutes to look fresh. He offered to drop me home, but I smiled and just said I'd find my own way home as he had a much further route to go.
Maybe just as hard as some people try to avoid being a stereotype, someone else tries equally hard to be one. Maybe it's because it's an easier way to measure "success." Maybe it saves you the time of figuring out what the alternatives are. Maybe it's easier to live a life with a defined goal.
Or maybe he's shaking his head feeling sorry for me, that I have a long way to go before I become someone like him.
Well, this guy did. A little too much, I think.
Typical guppie stereotype: witty, gym-toned, clean and perfumed, immaculately attired, branded and with an air of self-importance. Well this guy took it to the next level.
Unfortunately I met him when he was clad in a towel. Not wanting to perpetuate the locker room cruiser myself, I had agreed to go home with him. I dressed and waited for him outside...and it took him a good 15 minutes more than I did. He came out in a body-hugging polo and trousers that made sure you could see the curve of his hard ass, with a metal briefcase. Texting on his iPhone of course. And he had this huge friggin' bling around his neck with a gold chain that would make Jay-Z jealous.
"Er, what's that?," I asked. I hoped he'd get my hint and take the damn thing off so he wouldn't look like a fucking Sim. (You know, those video game humans with a diamond above their head.)
He merely smiled naughtily and said in a loud voice, "Oh something for you to play with." And he theatrically winked. In a crowded place. Boy I believed I blushed, along with several people around me. Oh boy one of those. He kept flirting outrageously and while waiting for the taxi, I sat down a good 1 foot away from him. "Sit here," he said and patted the space beside him. We were on a 5 foot long bench with only 2 other people sitting down. I slid 6 inches closer while looking down.
How do you maintain your dignity with a person like this? Maybe discretion is a bigger issue for Pinoys than these guys.
Luckily the two other persons ride appeared so I was spared any more theatrics and proceeded to have a normal conversation.
"What do you do?," I asked.
"I'm a coach." Hmm I don't think he's a football coach or such, as I looked at the metal briefcase.
"A life coach?," I ventured.
"A success coach." Ah. 'Splains better.
Now I thought we were heading for his apartment when he said he had a place nearby they gym. Apparently it was his office. Conveniently, he owns his own business. Of course, a success coach needs to be successful, right?
It was only upon entering his office that it dawned on me what a success coach would be like. I had expected -- you know, a private room with a couch like a shrink perhaps. Or stacks of books on psychology and self-help. Nope this guy was the "guru" kind.
Meaning, he had pictures of himself plastered all over. My estimate was 200. He was eve better looking in his 30s and the pictures suggested he used to model. He switched on the lights in his office and asked me to step in.
Wow. There it was. A lifesize standee of himself. In an angel outfit (if angels wore sleeveless shirts to show off their biceps) with some success slogan. The office was expensive and high tech. It had 2 main sections: the huge boss desk and big boss chair, and a chaise. And the wall was completely covered by a mirror. He switched on the lamp to full brightness, turned on the music and took off his clothes.
This isn't really happening, I thought. I was obviously not impressed by all the flashiness, but then again his physique was his saving grace. So we proceeded with the agenda of the meeting. Heh heh.
Until I realized he was watching us in the mirror. Or watching himself. That was the end of it for me. I mean, hell, this guy works with his lifesize image looking over at him every day!
"So you reaaaalllly like looking at yourself, " I stated and I laughed. I think he realized his obvious vanity and mumbled a sorry and turned his back to the mirror.
Unfortunately things went downhill from there. I tried to keep myself busy with the task at hand *Ahem* to shoo away these distracting thoughts. But alas the flagpole stood down and I just didn't see myself trying any longer. I can't do the porn acting even when this setting called for it. With an awkward finish, I dressed and walked out of his office while he took another extra 10 minutes to look fresh. He offered to drop me home, but I smiled and just said I'd find my own way home as he had a much further route to go.
Maybe just as hard as some people try to avoid being a stereotype, someone else tries equally hard to be one. Maybe it's because it's an easier way to measure "success." Maybe it saves you the time of figuring out what the alternatives are. Maybe it's easier to live a life with a defined goal.
Or maybe he's shaking his head feeling sorry for me, that I have a long way to go before I become someone like him.