In the very wantonness of joy…I read this little phrase this morning in a humourous Mark Twain essay and it so accurately describes my present state of mind. I am a very lucky girl and writing this (or attempting to) is making me tear up.
There was obviously the big 7-birthday birthday junk / Murder in Margaritaland adventure. I got to play the dramatic Hollywood starlet with substance abuse issues and it was only too easy to play a neurotic, drama queen who is besotted with the bartender who saved her life. Everyone was dressed in character – tacky waitresses, creepy abusive policemen and overbearing resort owners. As if junks in perfect weather aren’t enough fun already. The sun was shining like it knew it was my birthday. Millionaire’s beach seemed like a bit of a swim but princess Jups has such amazing friends like Shimpy that would drag her lazy ass to the beach using an elaborate system of noodles and buoys. The beach was a little slice of paradise. We lay on it, ignoring all the effects of that blazing sun for a few beautiful minutes except its delightful heat. There is no substitute, you hear me? No substitute whatsoever for warm sunshine on your wet sand-speckled body. There’s money and champagne and diamonds…and then there’s that sunshine.
I spied Sam slowly getting out of the water shortly after wards. Yes, come hither, I can feel your eyes following me. “Are you going to join us Sam?”, we cooed. He lied down on the sand next to me. Note to self: the coral pink Brazilian bikini may be more difficult to wear on a fat day but it sure does bring all the boys to the yard. Shimpy and I recounted to Sam the amazing places we had been to in Asia. She is going to Bali next week. I thought how this time last year, I was in Bali myself for another baller birthday I’d had. Those were good times, and so are these.
Sam is a really cheesy guy. He likes Bon Jovi and Star Wars and Love Actually. He works in banking and likes to go to the gym and run in Sun Yat Sen Park. He’s half Chinese. Crispy pork is his favourite food. He likes to go out and drink (white wine). Sam has bungee-jumped into the Zambesi, and also into my life.
Sam and I have very little in common. Except for this minor technical detail that his desk is about 10 strides away from mine at work. I know all the stuff I wrote above because Sam and I have been spending a lot of time together and no, not at work. I would be loath to write about a boy in a birthday post but considering I spent Wednesday night, Friday night, Saturday day, Saturday night and Sunday morning and afternoon together, my birthday weekend and my weekend with Sam are inextricably linked.
Several hours of amazing sunshine, waters, alcohol, weed, friends and music later, our junk docked at the pier and I went home to nap, change and get ready for round #2 – karaoke with my colleagues. Sam followed me home so predictably neither did I nap nor did I eat (as I said, more on this later). I did however change into a very cute navy blue Maje skirt I had just bought for the occasion (among so many other dresses). We all sang our hearts out and then ate our hearts out at Tsui Wah. Three years past, I am local Hong Konger now after all.
Sam stayed the night. I had not made any plans for Sunday save recovering from a potential hangover and wakeboarding with Jin and friends in the evening. I was quite (pleasantly) surprised when Sam asked me to have brunch with him. And so we did. And then we held hands like it was the most natural thing in the world and walked around Sheung Wan and Po Hing Fong (where I chanced upon this adorable graffiti). He walked me back home even though we live 5 minutes away from each other and I can find my way myself. I liked the redundant chivalry because these days even requisite chivalry is mostly absent and here’s a guy who says that he’s never gone Dutch. Check.
Despite being in a somewhat fragile and exhausted state, I managed to not suck at wakeboarding. I am finally back to getting some good “airtime” while jumping though it’s going to take me loads of practice to get really good. My instructor was very happy and so was I. I went to bed very content that night.
Monday was ridiculously boring but I did have a gorgeous dinner with the gorgeous girls to look forward to. Our conversation was equal parts sincere, intelligent and raunchy. Sous vide salmon were served and foodgasms were achieved. And reeling from the full-bodied Spanish red I had consumed, I texted Sam from the cab. It was a friendly neighbourhood text – will you come around and hello-kiss me if you’re in the neighbourhood? He said yes and kiss me he did. (sidebar: I have since been informed that this was a booty call. Yes fine, I concede it looks like that but believe me when I say I did not intend to sleep with him that night).
(to be continued)