Snuggled inside a KTV room in Hot Legs Nite Club, I take a sip of my Asahi beer and put the glass down. “Ladies, any tips for giving Valentine’s Day presents?” I flick my gaze at Jessica and Wati. The scent of jasmine from the perfume of the two ladies wafts about in the karaoke room, blown by the cool air of the air-conditioner.
Chow Kah and Hussein are munching nuts and they each show a thumbs-up. Hussein is sitting to my right with Wati while Chow Kah is tucked in the far end of the U-shaped sofa, accompanied by Jessica. “Timely topic for discussion,” Chow Kah says as he squirms closer to Jessica.
“First rule,” Jessica says, “is never ask your girlfriend what present she wants for Valentine’s Day.” Chow Kah places a hand on her lap but she brushes it away. “If you need to ask, it shows that you don’t bother to think or you don’t know her taste.”
Seated beside Hussein, Wati turns sideways to face me. “The present must be appropriate to the level of relationship.” She crosses her legs at the knees, revealing satiny brown skin. “For example, you should not buy a sexy silk lingerie for a girl whom you’ve known for only three months.”
Jessica leans forward and takes a menu from under the coffee table. “That should be common sense. No matter how filthy rich you are, if you’re not sure whether she has feelings for you, an overly expensive gift can scare your female friend away.” She flips the pages of the menu. “Worse, the gift may be returned. Which is like a slap in the face.” She presses the intercom on the side table. “James, one Bloody Mary."
Chow Kah lifts up his mug, gulps his rum and nods in understanding. “What about live animals like a cute poodle or some exotic pet? Okay to give them?”
Wati picks up a sliced orange and peels away the skin. “Giving pets is like walking on a minefield. Don’t unless she has mentioned about wanting to own a pet. You know, keeping a pet can be a hassle.”
I spear a slice of Solo papaya from a platter on the coffee table. “Flowers are the safest to give.” I munch on the papaya.
Wati feeds Hussein the peeled orange. “Be aware of the significance of the different colours of flowers.” She plucks a tissue and wipes her hands. “Red roses symbolize love and romance. Ditto for pink roses. Yellow roses represent friendship. So it’s alright to send them to a female friend to test the water. If she reacts negatively, you can explain the significance of yellow and that you treasure her friendship, nothing more. Thus, you'll save yourself the embarrassment of rejection."
“Also be careful how you give them.” Jessica flicks her gaze at Wati. “Should you send them to the office or give them personally? If the girl travels by bus or LRT, it’s pretty silly to send flowers to her office. But even if she drives, a girl may not want to be the centre of attraction. Her colleagues may even tease her. Though it may be done in jest or good spirit, she may blame you for the teasing she receives.” She closes the menu and tosses it on the coffee table.
I take another hit of my beer. “So far, all of you’ve been discussing presents between boyfriend-girlfriend. A married man should also celebrate Valentine’s Day with his wife.”
Wati nods. “True!” She grabs a handful of salted nuts and pops them in her mouth. “I don’t want a man who’s romantic when he’s a boyfriend but unromantic when he becomes my husband.”
“Any ideas for a married man to celebrate V-Day with his wife?” asks Chow Kah, slipping an arm over the shoulder of Jessica.
“Avoid all things household,” I say, gazing at the faces looking at me. “Such as vacuum cleaners, mixers, ovens, kitchen appliances, electric tooth brushes.”
A grin upturns the corners of Hussein's lips. “Not necessarily. Some women regard Valentine’s Day as Western culture that should not be emulated. If that’s her attitude, the husband should purposely give mops, brooms and floor polish to her on Valentine’s Day. You get the drift? That'll teach her not to be Taliban-minded!”
A pearly toothed grimace pulls at Wati’s face. “You’re a horrible man. I wouldn’t want to be your missus. Or for that matter, mistress.”
Jessica rubs her forefinger and thumb. “The best V-Day present a man can give his wife is money.”
Chow Kah cocks his head. “But what if the husband doesn’t earn much?”
“In that case, the husband can offer to do the chores for one or two days so his wife can relax,” I say. “Maybe he can bake a heart-shaped cake and some finger food to be shared among the family members. You know, a simple Valentine’s Day celebration at home.”
Jessica's eyes narrow into slits of sapphire. “That’s romantic?” she asks and leans back on the sofa. A Myanmar waiter enters the karaoke room and brings Jessica her glass of Bloody Mary.
I spear another piece of fruit from the platter and bring it to my mouth. “There're ways to spice up the home party. The husband can compose a love poem and read it out to his wife in front of the kids.”
“Good idea,” Chow Kah says. “But a candlelight dinner in a restaurant is always more romantic than a home celebration.”
“Of course! That was what I did last year,” Hussein says, jerking upright. “I took my fat, ferocious first wife for a V-Day dinner in Kampung Datuk Keramat." He takes out his cell phone and shows her picture. “That always-nagging tigress asked why I chose that restaurant which is notorious for its lousy food and horrible service. I explained that the restaurant offered a fifty percent discount for customers who paid by Visa credit card. And I'm a Visa credit card holder!" Sly smile lines crinkle at the edges of his dark eyes.
He jabs a button on his cell phone again and a video starts to play. “This is my fourth wife. Sexy eh? Because she's sweet to me, I took her to Tanzini Upper Deck in G Tower. Phew! Cost me a bomb! Both wives deserve what they got!”
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