Confessions of a Cat-holic (128)

There was not much fine dining between Rex and I. We had those beef organ noodles for a few times. We had Yoshinoya for a few times. We had Genki Sushi for a few times. We had McDonalds for a few times. Usually we just dropped by the restaurants when we were in the mood for it. I figured that Rex and I were both kind of a glutton. We used to be really chubby as a kid. So we always had more than one meal in an afternoon, sometimes with a supper or tea set. At night, we would have "siu yeah" or bubble tea with desserts after dinner.

I heard that Rex had been working multiple jobs in Vancouver. Last time I spoke to him on the phone, he said he was loading off a truck at Home Depot. Another time, he said he was working as a cashier in a snooker club. He was also working in a bowling arena. But he affirmed me that he got a bit of a raise in hourly wage as a courier driver working around the airport area. What impressed me most was that he told me he became a sushi chef at night in a Japanese restaurant.

I had a feeling that he was the kind of guys I would fall for the most. For some odd reasons, I never ever remembered liking a guy for his grades or academic achievements. Maybe it was in my DNA. But I really disliked those Asian stereotypes, white collar working professional jobs in a suit with a mind full of numbers and a transcript of perfect grades. I used to like Wong Lee Hom a bit, until my roommate from college, Kelly, told me that he was a 1600 in SAT, and a perfect GPA at Williams College, with song writing talents and perfect command of English. He could also play the piano and violin. I didn't particularly like or hate Wong Lee Hom during his early debut years. But I grew to be kind of put up by his "talents" because he happened to possess the qualities I hated the most in an opposite sex. Self-righteous, egocentric, and narcissistic. I knew Wong Lee Hom probably would be an ideal prince-like boyfriend that many girls would dream to date, but he just wasn't my cup of tea.

What kind of guys would I like? I liked 2pm, and Aaron Kwok. I liked watching guys flexing muscles that could rip a t-shirt. I liked watching those blue collar workers transporting water buckets off a truck. Someone muscular not because he worked out in a gym, but because he had to work multiple manual labor jobs all day long. I saw those qualities in Rex even when we dated before he moved to Canada. I loved the idea of working cash jobs with a gangster. I thought it was one of the most romantic things on earth.

And he knew I liked Japanese food. Not sure if he wanted to become a sushi chef to please me, but I liked that idea of marrying a sushi chef. I could eat his masterpieces every day and I could be running as a manager in a sushi bar or something. Or maybe cashier. Somehow, I could see myself doing that, with him particularly. I really liked the idea of marrying Rex. And I knew he was working towards it without my asking.

Windsor House was by far our favorite mall. I remembered that Rita publicly kissed her first love at the Toysrus in that mall. So subconsciously, I liked to follow suit and do a bit of PDA with Rex at Windsor House as well. They had a huge Haagen Dazs on the 6th floor where there were seats to enjoy frozen desserts on a tea set menu with choices such as ice cream fondue and other exotic dishes. As a legacy of Rita's PDA, I also suggested to Rex that we should sit down and have a bit of ice cream after our lunch or dinner at Oliver's Sandwich downstairs.

He usually welcomed any of my ideas regarding food. He always let me decide. That was another thing I liked about Rex. He never said no to anything I proposed. I liked being in control.

So we sat down next to the windows at Haagen Dazs on a quiet Saturday afternoon and ordered a banana split with chocolate flavors and chocolate flavors only. I made sure there were no strawberry or vanilla flavors because I disliked them. I didn't ask him if he liked chocolate because I liked chocolate ice cream too much to take into consideration his personal tastes.