“To win over a man who doesn’t love you, the best time is when he’s heartbroken, emotionally drained, and consumed by desire with no outlet!” Ke Fei closed her eyes in dramatic imagination, completely entranced. She continued, practically spitting with enthusiasm as she described it, “At times like this, the strongest part of a man’s body is his waist! The hardness, the explosive energy…”
She was so carried away by her vivid description that she stretched out her hands, right in front of me, making a gesture as if gripping some cylindrical object.
“STOP!” I couldn’t take it anymore and slapped her hands down to stop her hips from mimicking any suggestive movements. “So all this time, I’ve been nothing more than an aphrodisiac?!”
“Keep your voice down, we’re at work!” Ke Fei gave me a conspiratorial wink. “Think of it as a catalyst for passion.”
“A catalyst for passion is still an aphrodisiac!” I rolled my eyes hard. Who was it that just this morning was loudly proclaiming not to bring indecent bedroom matters into the office? “Whether it’s a catalyst or an aphrodisiac, I’m not playing along.”
“Oh, come on! Just tell me, how did things go between you two today?”
“We added each other on Facebook. That’s it.” I gave a curt summary. As for how Chu Ke Huan had held my hand, said those words, and even, for a fleeting moment, stirred something in me—I planned to bury that deep in my heart. If I didn’t mention it and he didn’t either, it was as though it never happened.
“Well, that’s a start. Adding each other on Facebook is a good beginning,” Ke Fei said with a meaningful look.
“I’m not going to reply to his messages, and I’m never meeting him again,” I said firmly.
“You really don’t get it, do you? Facebook’s check-in feature is practically a breeding ground for casual hookups among urban singles! I don’t even know if I should tell you…” Ke Fei trailed off, then finally pulled out her phone and showed me one of her check-in posts at Starbucks.
“‘Buy a Coke on Friday and get half off with a check-in’?” I read aloud, unimpressed. “It’s just a coffee shop promotion. What’s the big deal?”
“You’re so oblivious. Do you really think Starbucks is a place that sells Coke?”
“Ah!” It finally dawned on me.
“This is my original ‘hookup code,’” Ke Fei explained with a self-satisfied smirk. “Every Friday, when I’m walking through this massive city, feeling empty, lonely, and cold, I don’t need flirty texts or the awkwardness of explicitly setting up a hookup. All I have to do is casually take out my phone, check in on Facebook, and shout, ‘I really want to buy a Coke.’ Ambiguous flings working in nearby office buildings will catch my hint and, like genies from a lamp, magically appear in front of me. Hookups done elegantly, discreetly, and effortlessly!”
“Why Coke? You could’ve picked anything else. Why use that as your code?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.
“Please! This code is subtle and open to interpretation—I’m even thinking about patenting it! Try shouting it yourself, and you’ll see what I mean!”
Feeling ridiculous but curious, I parroted her words, trying to decode the secret meaning: “I really want to buy...” The fourth word stuck in my throat, and in a flash of realization, my brain lit up.
“I really want to buy a Coke.” I really want to... Make Love?
“You’re disgusting...” I gave up and surrendered, raising a reluctant thumbs-up to Ke Fei. From now on, anytime I see someone drinking Coke on Facebook, I’ll have a hard time not thinking about this ridiculous innuendo.
0 Comments