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The Madness of MokcikNab
Motives, movements and melodrama in the life of a thirty something mum.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

There's a good looking Italian man in my husband's office building in Jakarta, and I often see him enjoying a cigarette, near the elevator vestibule, in the afternoons. He is a lanky gentleman, with pale blue eyes and dark wavy hair that's a little too long to be called conservative. It's totally not PC, but I have a thing for certain men who can make cigarette smoking look absolutely sensuous. It's the fingers and the lips and the blowing, I guess.

My husband teases me about the Italian man everytime we bump into him, even though I explain I am simply a forward party for my gay friends. It's a lie, of course, but I honestly have no interest in the Latino beyond just looking from a safe distance. I'm quite happy with Saiffuddin, who can look Aryan on good days, and luckily, he looks gorgeous smoking a cigarette, too. (Which is probably where I developed the penchant, in the first place)

Yesterday was my last day in the city; and at lunchtime, as we were waiting for the lifts, the Italian man was in close enough proximity for him to see us. My husband whispered that this was my chance, go on, go speak to him and I was going, don't be ridiculous and would you please shut up. Saiffuddin was grinning like mad and giving the guy a sideway glance; like this was a scene where a girl and her best friend bumps into a heart-throb. Unfortunately, the guy noticed, and he noticed my husband grinning, and misread the signals. He had a half smile, and gave Saiffuddin what I thought was The Look, and I had forgotten, in this day and age, how quickly signals can be bounced off and returned. He glanced at my husband again, as we stepped into the lift, as though waiting for the code to be deciphered and answered. I was terribly amused.

I'm here in Kuala Lumpur now. I hope, back in Jakarta, my husband hasn't developed a fishing hobby and has found someone to go angling with.


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