Choosing a bicycle is like finding the perfect woman

She does not look very pleasing to the eye…not at all. In fact as far as first impressions go even by the most forgiving standards, her lines look very unsettling when compared to my other bicycle that has smooth and clean classical lines.

But when I look at her longer…and study the geometry very closely, then very slowly her hidden beauty oozes out like amber from ancient wood. Yes very slowly I can tease out the various nuances along with the strands of logic only to be filled with understanding – why she has to look the way she does to perform…so true to the adage form must follow function……to insist on the other way would be to put the cart before the horse. One can only derive the lowest form of beauty…a vapid and decaying beauty for beauty sake and in this manner that which was once ugly is suddenly rendered an aching beautiful.

A good bicycle is not so different from a woman I reckon.

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This is a true story

‘Two years back ago I came across a Singaporean friend of mine who hails from Bukit Batok in the emporium of one thousand pleasures. This is a seafood restaurant in the kampung (you can always tell as in cowboy towns, they all have license to exaggerate). The pleasures that this gentlemen was partaking that evening comprised a dish of drunken prawns, chili crab and a buxom chinese prostitute.

Usually when I come across such carnal encounters even with people who I may be acquainted with – it is not unusual for me to feign profound indifference. I am after a worldly chap who understands the imposition of discretion when it comes to such delicate matters – my lips are as tight as a Doberman in the dentist shop. But since I happen to know the history of this fellow – you see he started a mushroom farm with his wife not very far from where I turn the wheel of life. I even know recently he came to money as his business is flourishing. A large part of the credit goes to his wife. Not him. As since she has a pleasant disposition unlike this fellow, she has been able to open so many doors for this ungrateful fuck of a half man.

I felt a wave of mischief shimmering across me that evening for some inexplicable reason so I proceeded to take pictures of this couple like a Mossad secret agent. I even followed them to their love nest. Bribed the concierge to allow me to climb up the drain pipe and spy on them from the balcony. If only hotel 81 is like all the kampung hotels – where life is so interesting as it also probably so open minded – provided one can keep ones brains from spilling out. Life would be so transparently. These were my thoughts.

The following day I presented the evidence to this man. His first reaction, this is blackmail! I replied, you are most perceptive. He began to recount to me in ear shattering terms – what I do with my life is my bloody business and demanded to know my motivation.

I told him quite plainly my motivation was purely altruistic and all I desired was to restore the balance of heaven and earth along with preventing him from taking a wrong turn in life. He exclaimed wtf! At some point, the man broke down and told me in a wavering tone that deep down he was a very sad man and had never known any excitement in his whole twenty odd years of marriage. This man even when on to intimate to me that he now found his wife staid and boring. I went on to tell this man I have it under the surest authority, his wife to the best of my knowledge based on the village CIA and Mossad intelligence services that operates from a benign village barbershop was a woman of impeccable standing – that if not for her 24/7 dedication in growing his business, it’s unlikely that he would ever have come to money. As since his wife often speaks highly of him and makes it a point to win the hearts and minds of the villagers to his side – this is the only reason why he has been successful thus far. I went on to add, left to his own, he would have floundered a long time ago. As he had the EQ of a doorknob and the table manners of a pig. At one point when anger got the better of me. I suddenly jumped out of my chair like a ninja and proceeded on to knock this fellow on the head with my bare knuckles twice to give him two decent sized balaku’s to which after cringing with pain. He threatened to call the police. I dared him. He called me a gangster (can you all imagine that! Me…a gangster) – I went on to tell this fellow, if his wife was really fucked up as he claimed. I wouldn’t have seen the wisdom to interfere. Not at all. I went on to add, it’s conceivable that I would have even encourage him with other women….two would be better…three betterest.

After that from time to time whenever I came across this fellow, I would wink and nudge him and exclaim in a sardonic tone, ‘are you looking closer!….remember I can always post this all in Youtube if you are not!’

After a period. The man called on me one day and recounted in a very humble tone, that he now knows the error of his ways. He went on thank me for my timely intervention. As since the last time we talked, he has been counting his blessings and since then not a day goes by when he doesn’t give thanks to heaven for uniting him with such a wonderful wife who could always be entrusted to help him in his business.

I told him that I always knew he would be able to see the beauty in her….if only he looked closer.’