Type One

‘What type of girls do you guys like?’

Sitting almost right smack in the middle of the big S11 in Ang Mo Kio, Cindy asked me in that tight, black dress of hers, attracting attention I try not to be bothered with. I could understand why she was dressed like that though, even if she was just doing her project in the National Library a while ago. It was ‘chance’ she couldn’t wait to get, for someone whom might catch her eyes, to see her as well. What if she never found him cause she wore a t-shirt and jeans on the right day?

‘The type that knows she will attract the focused, by confidence and wit.’

‘Like me?’


The breath out of my nose seemed a little too loud and she gave a slight hint of confusion, not sure if I was seriously turning her off. Too many, too many of girls her age wore what she wore, and many of them unwillingly to hang around places where they deemed to be ‘for commoners’. That was also perhaps why she was, that one bit different from them.

‘You are almost that girl, if you accept that the right guy will never look at you because of how you dress.’

The last bit of rice on our plates were scrapped into our mouths, surprising with her choice of ‘economy rice’ when I asked her what she will be eating. The park opposite the library was a common spot couples would go for a walk in the evening, besides those going about their exercise routine there. Walking aimlessly in it, we settled for a bench around a circular monument, unconsciously agreeing on that discreet spot to continue our conversation.

‘Don’t guys want a girl they are proud to show to their friends?’

‘Your mister right wouldn’t have friends they need to impress.’


The accompanying silence shouted out the reflection in her beliefs about men for the longest time, realising that the new perspective could be a better option. The short hems was still catching my attention though, and I didn’t try to hide my weakness to temptation. She knew very well her outfit did have some effect on me.

‘What about girls who knows how to please men?’

She pulled the part of her dress between her legs higher and let me get a peek of the purple laced panties. She then took it off her legs and tucked it into one of her bra cups. Holding onto my quivering hand, she knew what I wanted to do but not dare to.

‘You are allowed to.’

My hand was brought to her legs and I stopped myself on her lap. The shiver she felt was false, neither was I planning to go any further with a girl who was just out of a delusion, or had just fallen into one.

‘Let’s go. I’ll walk you home.’

Her change in expression was more than soothing to know when she did not know if she understood me at all. She was after all, leading no one apart from herself, on. The panties went into her bag once we started walking hand-in-hand, absence of any conversations stemming from the uncertainty she now know not to jump into.

‘Are you still going to text and talk with me?’

We were under the blocks of flat to hers when she asked, and I let go of her hand as we reached her lift. It was a good date to show her what I was capable of, as well as interest her in someone who wasn’t going to do anything if it couldn’t be done right.

‘Yes. Text me when you are home. We just live three minutes apart.’


The doors closed on her smiling face and I made my way home, with a spam of messages about how she enjoyed herself on the date. Now, it is her turn to learn and keep up with me.

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