matchmaking is not for the big-balled

Speeding along KL highways (in a Viva highly prone to turtle-turns, no less =/) with two bimbos giggling away with McDonald's Madagascar giraffe ears perched on their heads while trying to attract attention from other bewildered drivers is, well, a different kind of driving experience. If I have to be metaphorical I would relate it to riding a tiny scooter with two monkeys doing backward flips on my helmet, and we all know who those monkeys are.

I find it highly unsettling that people are always trying to matchmake me. Like wtf. I actually mulled this issue over and came up with a list of possible reasons that would logically explain their persistance in seeing me attached. So please, if you are one of those or is thinking of introducing me to yet another Coach-toting lass (which kind of backfires, because such display of wealth intimidates me), please! tell me why do you have the need to believe that I have a need for a partner.

Reasons to matchmake me :

1. You are afraid that I would turn gay
And I assume that this fear stems from my increasingly frequent homopobic jokes, the universal warning bells for someone who refuses to come out of the closet. Or that my borderline obsession with the beauty of the male body is starting to disturb you. Or that I made blatant homosexual come-ons to my male friends under the guise of a joke. Or..

I still watch straight porn, so there.

2. You thought that, like many other guys with the obvious lack of a pair of balls, I would be miserable without a girlfriend
Actually I can't blame you for that, with my flair for soap drama emo everytime something goes wrong in la la land. But hey, things always work out in the end because I can always rely on my male ego trying to cheer me up by distracting me with a random fact of life, such as how I have big balls.

3. I look pathetic and desperate for girls
You're fat, flabby and pockmarked by cellulite. Go away.

4. You want to help me achieve financial freedom by getting me a sugar mama
In other words, you want me to be someone's bitch. I am not totally against that, seeing how I have come to put a price on my dignity and all (a Brabus BMW M3), but satsified as I am of my physical characteristics, I doubt that any tai tai out there would readily hand me a RM500,000 car without considering the alternatives of, uh, Zac Effron lookalikes?

Let me digress. A few weeks prior to a cousin's wedding, an aunt of mine spoke passionately about her dear, pretty, rich niece who drives a Smart Forfour and how she is single and lives in a freaking bungalow and she is in heat. Okay, I'm kidding about the last part, but I'm sure that if I let her rant long enough she would eventully come to that. This girl hardly crossed my mind after that (because I'm generally frugal and material possessions mean nothing to me. Unless it's a Brabus M3) until the wedding itself when she actually dragged this poor girl to the table I was sitting at and went

"Here, here. She is the one I've been telling you about. Now you young people make your acquaintances, eh?"

WTF. Out of the blue, and in the midst of the roast duck when I was sure I had sweet and sour sauce all over my mouth. Surely they must have had more matchmaking tact in her days? Or is that the reason why my parents, who are from entirely different worlds, got hitched?

But okay lah she is a looker. And she drives a Forfour!!

There's actually more to this but I have to attend a talk on Sheffield Hallam. I shall bitch more next time. Seeya!