Safety First

The one thing about Singapore I wish the rest of the world would incorporate is its safe environment due to its harsh punishments. Men, more likely than women here, are the ones who need to be aware of their surroundings (specifically from pick pocketing trannies). At 2AM, I can go for an early “morning” run and not worry about drive-by shootings. Freely I can walk around with cleavage up to my nose, skirt just below my tush, a shimmy in my step—all without any whistles, kissy noises or “Damn baby, let me get some of that.” This is liberation! I can be the slut I’ve always wanted without being treated like one. Although, you will be stared at as if you are an alien, but that’s only because the Singapore men are used to seeing “A” cups or implants on ladyboys. This is a country where porn is banned for heaven’s sake…yet prostitution is allowed. And, according to one of my taxi drivers, Chin Swee, Singapore men aren’t sexual.

“We are so busy going to work we don’t think about sex. Last time I had sex with my wife was three weeks ago. And I no jack-off since.” Whoa TMI buddy, TMI… “A lot of times the prostitutes come into cab and offer sex for us, but oh no no no. I no do.”

Coming to “the safest place in the world,” I was naïve to “low crime doesn’t mean no crime.”

Like the time I was trying to find the right bus stop in the scorching heat and humidity. My jeans stuck to my thighs like tar and feathers. My brain felt as fried as a churro. As I read my map, a pink car pulled up to the curb.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where the hospital is?” The Malay man shouted from his cotton candy mobile. I went up to the car and immediately felt sympathetic. The hospital? Is he in pain? Pink. Someone else he knew in pain? Pink. Someone dying? Pink. I didn’t even question the fact that since he has a car he must know his way around the country. But, then again, the taxi drivers who are required to live here their whole lives end up taking directions from passengers and don’t even know how to work their GPSs’.

I showed him my map and he looked at it blankly. Horns honked as oncoming traffic started to back up behind his. “Do you mind helping me? I can take you where you need to go?” The shimmering glitter in the pink paint must have hypnotized me because I got in that car with no hesitation. I mean come on; it’s a pink car and an Asian man. Can’t get any less threatening than that.

His dashboard was covered in white faux fur. Shiny disco balls hung from his rearview mirror and a Louis Vouton Kleenex box sat next to the gear stick.

“Gum?” He offered while he popped the cap off one of his six bottles of smuggled gum.

“Thank you…so I think if you turn up here and head straight you should be able—who’s in the hospital?”

“Oh. I don’t really need to go to the hospital. I just thought you were cute.” He said while grinning eagerly at me. My brain cells quickly regrouped and I started to look for an escape route. Locked doors, on the highway—I was doomed! I decided to play it cool and told him where to drop me off. Meanwhile, he went on and on about Twilight.

“If you want, we can watch Twilight together in my car. I have this great system and—hey I should get your number.” He pulled up to my security gate, I gave him my fake digits, and fleeted untouched. When I become a mother I will say to my child, “Never take rides from strangers, even if it’s a pink car.”

In a taxi ride, a ride that I pay for, I still can feel threatened.

“Oh you smell very nice…men must lovvvvee you….yes they love you.” Taxi man number 32 said while eyeing me through the rearview mirror. I laughed uncomfortably.

“Ayyyeeee youuu. You have boyfriend?”

“No.” Doh! Why I didn’t lie and say I’m engaged is beyond me at this point.

“You call me if you want taxi, I pick you up. But superman needs to wear trousers so he isn’t naked and not fly around. Need to give me time, more than 30 min.” Where was the kryptonite when I needed it?

“You hungry? Let me take you out. Here I take you to Hawker center right here. You want?”

Hawker center for our first date? As tempting as that was, I told him that I was in a hurry for work and remained silent the rest of the ride while clenching the door handle.

“But what’s going to happen to you? It’s Singapore, the safest place in the world!” said my roommate, Mark, in regards to leaving me at a McDonalds as I was out of my mind drunk yelling to the clerk, “Where’s my order? Ohhh you served them first? Why because they are white? Because they are a couple?!” Clearly being single in Singapore was turning me into a bitter drunk and racist towards my own race. How I got home, who knew? Since the majority believes in karma, cab drivers will generally take care of you and get you home safely if you are pissed as a sailor. They will even return your iphone if you leave it in their car. However, some will take advantage of you feeling safe.

Drenched from being thrown into a pool at a party on Sentosa, an island off an island, I hailed a cab. The free flow of wine put everything in slow motion as I got into the cab. I wrung the water out of my dress as the cab driver took off. I looked up to enjoy the scenery only to find Mr. Cabbie starring at me instead of the road. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh,” he moaned while eyeing my body like a vulture. One moan would have been ok, but it happened at every stoplight. Being in my state of mind I found it amusing. We reached my destination and I took out my wallet to pay, but Mr. Cabbie waved his hand that it was not necessary. Woohooo! Free taxi ride! Wait, does this make me a prostitute? Or a victim?

So much for liberation…

Kiss'n Tell

They say you shouldn't kiss and tell. But someone has to break the rules, right? So far it's been 5.5 months of living in Singapore. Back when I was living in LA and striving to be an actress my love life was pretty consistent. Chances of getting asked out at a coffee shop, grocery store, or at parties were high. Did I always say yes? No. But sometimes knowing that you are wanted keeps you going...always looking for the next best thing. So what could be better than getting a job across the world and the chance of finding true love? Fantasies of dating a man with his own personal driver, who could drive me to work everyday, and fly to local hot spots like Bali and the Maldives flooded my mind. He is out there!

Upon landing in Singapore I found my redheaded self in a sea of Asians and Indians. Where have all the familiar faces gone? I started to panic. I felt alone. "Excuse me," "pardon me," were omitted from the vocabulary of strangers and I was pushed and shoved into the arms of solitude. Friendly smiles and winks that brought a spring to my step in LA were replaced with blank stares. Stares so invasive I wanted to hide. At least the Mexicans back in LA know how to express what they feel with a simple whistle. A blank stare here can mean anything from "I want to attack you with my sausage," to "What is wrong with your face?"

Allow me to summarize my dating options for you. 90% of my coworkers were in relationships when I met them; 89% of them are still in relationships. The expats that come to live out in Singapore usually enjoy having Asian girlfriends or are married to wives that live overseas. Or, best of all, there are the men that frequent Orchard Towers, a prostitution hub known for "Four floors of whores." What's most unfortunate, is that I'm not attracted to Asian men, or perhaps I just haven't met the one whom I am attracted to.

All of this leads me to the fear of being alone. So I turn to internet dating. One of the most lazy approaches to getting into someone's pants. Meeting up with countless expat men, I look for connection, for chemistry, for someone to share life with! Then I realize, what am I doing? Why am I letting my fear drive my desire for love? What is it about being alone that I'm afraid of?

After indulging in countlees chocolate bunnies and eggs, I find my replacement for men. As I bite into a raspberry truffle, I think back to the taxi drive I had this morning on the way to work.

"Oh you have such stunning eyes and so smiley and cheerful," the Chinese driver says to me in the rear-view mirror.

"Well it's better than frowning," I say with my American sarcasm.

"Oh and you have red hair...(yes there are more than one Captain Obvious out here) You must be crazy, ya?"

"Yup I am crazy, " I say as I smile and sing along to, "Walking on Sunshine," on the radio. He turns the volume up full blast and enjoys watching me dance like a 5 year old in the backseat.

"You have husband? "

"Goodness no."

"Boyfriend?"

I tell him my rant on dating in Singapore.

"I can be your boyfriend. I pick you up in my taxi and take you to work. And pick up when you done and I take you to club. See I have muscles, I am strong man." He flexes for me. Impressive actually, for a forearm. I laugh off his comments and stare out the window eying an expat in a red car next to us. Typical white man in Asia, receding hairline, dark circles under the eyes, and pale patchy skin from computer gamma rays. I become silent and "Walking on Sunshine," fades.

Then the driver starts to moan, "Ohhhhh so much pain...I work from 6AM to 11PM I need massage...right here." He leans to the side and points to his left shoulder blade. "Massage it."

"What?"

"Punch it."

"Excuse me?"

"Punch! Pow, my back please."

"I'm sorry, I have to save my energy for work."

"Punch it!"

"Ok!" I give two light punches and refrain from talking to my new boyfriend.

Well kiddies, no matter what race you are, attitude is what makes you attractive. So although I feel alone, I smile, just in case someone might smile back. And who knows, you might even get to punch them...