Cut Wash and Blow, With a Happy Ending to Go

There are three types of women who make me feel vulnerable, which is an unfortunate blessing or a fortunate curse, because we are made for each other. Getting a hair cut makes my hair stand on their ends so it doesn’t get any easier for the hairdresser. My muscles get so tense during a massage the knots have never appeared more visible for the masseuse. And well ladyboys, I have what they have, so they may just be the only women on this planet I have the ability to understand. And the fact that I have used the word women is very disturbing.

If there is one thing I learnt about relationships from where else but the few gigabytes of educational video downloads of course. Relationships are all about the vulnerability. It is about taking down your invisible shield of invincibility, being unguarded, and allowing the other party to step into your comfort zone. It is like being naked in front of someone for that first time – the awkwardness, insecurities, and dangling family jewels. I am not encouraging you to strip in front of your friends and be vulnerable and all that. However, if you have the strong need to go full frontal in front of someone, I will always be that good friend you need.


I have always felt vulnerable sitting in that salon chair, mentally suffocating at how tightly the cloth is wrapped around my neck. Going for a hair cut makes me nervous. It changed when I met P’ Ying. She was a Thai hair dresser in her late 30s working at a complex catering for the local Thai community in Singapore. She had brown rebonded hair and her more than adequate face foundation gleamed under the harsh hair salon lighting.

She wanted to feel young, and probably look the part too. But I wish I could tell her that it was all unnecessary, for she aged well and beautifully. I could never communicate properly with her, or at least tell her to stop cutting my hair any further. I kept going back to her anyway. I felt comfortable being vulnerable sitting in her chair. It simply felt right.


Lying down motionless while a stranger kneads my body has always been awkward. Cat changed that. She is not a cat like the animal although I think having a real cat paw sharply over my bare skin may be a delightful sensation. I walked into this clean massage place (believe me) in Bangkok and what followed was an incredible first meeting story. She was 21, very attractive, and had a championship winning smile. For obvious reasons such as an uncontrollable natural male body reaction for example, I kept my eyes closed throughout the session.

We had a conversation in Thai and of course I know how I sound like in Thai. The masseuse next door was rubbing down her client who was a senior Thai lady and they got curious with this funny sounding Thai speaking man (I claimed I was from Chiang Mai). So, the four of us proceeded to have some ice breaking with a pink mysterious curtain between us. I was pleasantly surprised, no, totally taken back, when the masseuse next door took the liberty to lift up the curtain suddenly to see if I was a real Thai. Cat laughed off the knotty moment while I was still in the state of recovery. Oh, she had a championship winning laugh too.


I have always found them a fascination. They are a living paradox and they even have a lovely rhyme. Chicks with dicks? As much as I was fascinated, I was intimidated or it could have just been plain homophobia. They are usually taller and somehow manage broader shoulders and a deeper voice too. If these are the side effects of female hormonal tablets, I think I may just get a prescription for myself. I met Aey by coincidence many years ago. Getting relatively intoxicated at a Thai discotheque frequented by ladyboys is coincidence.

It was another coincidence when I bumped into him with my ex girlfriend who incidentally refused to speak to me for a day, because she was alarmed that I conversed with a random ladyboy on the street. I was proud that the whole stigma did not affect me and I could talk to him like he was like one of us. I was definitely a lot prouder when my good pals were persuaded into photographs with Aey in compromising positions for future blackmail. This is the beauty of vulnerability.