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That's it. The verdict is out. The local boys are all misers. At least the ones I've had the misfortune of meeting. You can't believe how bleak the situation is. Even the men from China aren't this bad. Okay, aside from the fact that almost half the time I'm just nodding my head in politeness to what sounds like gibberish to me.

Am I asking too much? It's not that difficult to wine and dine a lady like me I might say. All I demand is a little eye play in between morsels of food fit for the gods and if need be, some sweet nothings to compliment my sexy mole or my sultry lips. Well, but then again, that's just me.

Now, back to my encounter with a certain Mr. Tan. I find it hardly amusing that more than half of this population have the exact same surname. How do they tell themselves apart? You'll see if they don't manage to dominate this island soon! Anyway I was actually on my way to Alliance Francise for my French class (it's easy to impress them French sirs if you speak the language) when the heel of my Jimmy Choo's broke in half! Heels make me look sexy, but I guess they don't do well for running. Damn, I should make it a habit to be punctual. Now, with my broken shoe,

I hopped to the nearest bus stop and sat there pitifully, berating myself for thinking I could actually do a Nike in those Choo's. "Excuse me Miss, are you okay?" a voice came from above. Okay maybe not from above, but I looked up and lo and behold, there stood a suave figure with an oh-so-gorgeous smile.

Before I knew it, my hero was sweeping me off my feet in this lovely silver Peugeot to get me a new pair of heels. Everything was going fine 'til he brought me to Charles & Keith. The voice in my fragile head screamed in horror. Do I look like I wear their shoes? I'm not trying to sound demeaning, but I couldn't see myself wearing something that more than 100 people are wearing!

Oh well, but I guess this was an emergency scenario. In my bid to avoid leaving a bad impression on the Mr., I mustered a weak smile and picked out a shoe which (ahem) so happened to be the most expensive of the lot. I could see him lifting his brows in surprise as he paid for the shoes with his NETS card.

It was then when I felt my tummy rumbling. He must have heard it too because he suggested we go for dinner. He raved about this place called The Rice Table. It was apparently an Indonesian restaurant with delectable food. Sounds good I thought. We arrived there and I must say, it didn't look too bad, not bad at all. It had a very warm rustic ambience with ethnic touches of wood here and there. Nicely done. Mr. Tan ordered us both an a la carte buffet.

I think it was the Rijsttafel Set Dinner. Okay, I guess I was hungry enough to down a cow, so I didn't protest. Then the dishes came, a total of 15. Well, they came in small portions. Most of the dishes looked foreign to me. I haven't really eaten any Indonesian food before. So I gamely tucked into this aromatic fried tofu with egg I think. He said it was called tahu telor. Well it certainly was yummy. There was this other vegetable that was cooked in what looked like coconut milk. Made up of cabbage, carrots and long beans I think. According to the mister, it was supposed to be sayur lodeh. Not bad, I thought to myself.

Soon, I was rather full, after having the kangkong belachan, otak, eggplant and so on. Yes, there was like I said 15 dishes! But to my wide-eyed surprise, Tan was still ordering more. He said he couldn't get enough of the sotong asam. More like he was trying to make his money worth. Alas, I had to admit that all Tan was blessed with was a droolsome face.

Apart from that, he was like this undercover slob.

I couldn't help but cringe at the sight of him gobbling the food. Whatever small talk I tried to engage him in went down the drain. Food was the only thing on his mind it seemed! Soon, I found myself staring at my fingernails, making a mental note to make an appointment with my manicurist when I was suddenly disrupted when Tan grabbed my hand.

I looked up and was shocked to see him all red in the face and grabbing his throat with his other hand. He had choked. On a pathetic piece of sotong. In the end, he managed to pull it out (urgh) of his throat (gross!) and lived. What a pity. When I thought that was the end of it, he began asking the waiter for a discount. He said the sotong had caused him some inconvenience and he wasn't willing to foot the entire bill. At that point, I felt like just kicking myself and hiding under the table. How did I end up here! I choose to blame it on my Jimmy Choo's. I think I should get more Nike's.