2am dessert bar.

wednesday night (the eve of national day)

9pm: jon picks me up at my place. we set off for vivian's farewell party at 'some dessert place', so i've been told. he has supposedly nominated me as his unofficial official date/wing(wo)man for the night.

we reach/find parking/search for the place to no avail. however, acting upon instructions given over the phone, eventually arrive outside this place with the words "2am dessert bar" written on a glass window of the second storey - hidden in a secluded part of holland v that i've never seen or knew existed.

we enter by the side door and i notice a sign "private party" hung up.

me: *muses aloud* i wonder who's having a private party..
jon: that's us.
me: *stunned* ohh!

the interior of the place is gorgeous. simple clean lines, fuss-free. white sofas/beds (fluffy pillows inclusive) lined up against the wall - how inviting, right? a dessert bar, just as the name promises with bottle upon bottle of moet arranged in rows on the wall-shelves (i couldn't help but notice) and two rows of high wooden tables and chairs in the middle.

[i'm sorry my description just doesn't do it justice]

"it reminds me of new york, though i've never been. it's so... sex and the city." - me

coincidentally, i found out from the owner later on that she did indeed get the inspiration from and decided to bring the concept back after working at a dessert bar in new york. aha! a friend of vivian's, she opened up the place specially for the party, but the bar's official opening is actually in a couple of weeks' time.

i find that its selling point however, is/are its unique opening hours: 6pm-2am. she explained that if we ever get dessert cravings in the middle of the night, you know where to go. hello, talk about midnight chocolate cravings, i'm so there!

[free advertising! i should command a commission for this. haha]

everyone's already seated/mingling/eating/toting champagne flutes around by the time we arrive. i spot my favourite boy with his oh-so-adorable clark kent (i don't know what you call it) haircut, complete with flippy curls to the side! what crew cut?! viv feeds me a portion of her dessert. seriously: YUM. the warm chocolate tart is mouth-wateringly delicious, so much so that i simply call out to the waitress "i'm having whatever she's having!"

several hours and glasses of champagne later, we decided to proceed to zouk. by this time i'm practically sliding off my highchair (i can't call it a bar stool, it's far too classy for that) - part sleepy part jigging to the music in my head (the boys noticed. heh)

halfway out the door, we bump into more acquaintances, and their (ABC, i'm guessing) friend - who just so happens to have the sexiest british accent ever. [he looks a bit like a mouse, now that i think about it.]

as the boys chat (drunkenly, might i add), i whispered to vishal, "i love his accent."

out of the blue, he makes a mention of doing national service (even though no one asked). when i innocently enquired "in singapore?" he gets unnecessarily sarcastic (totally uncalled for) and rambles on about doing it in "f*cking antartica". i slide a sideways glance at vishal and both of us have this "what the f*ck" look on our faces. more out of politeness than anything (and the fact that they're probably trashed), i refrain from retaliating with a biting remark, decide to take the high road and turn to leave.

as we walk back to the car, i comment "love the accent, hate the attitude." the boys agree in unison "what a prick!" and backed me up, saying that he could have done his national service in any part of the world, was i to make the assumption that he was singaporean, what with the hugh laurie accent and all? urgh.

i hate boys.
i hate boys.
i hate boys.
i hate boys.
i hate boys.

zouk was packed, surprise surprise. jon and i somehow cut our way to the front of the queue (which has wound up all the way to the carpark by this time) it's far too crowded to get on the guestlist acc. to the doorbitch at velvet, but he bumps into a friend there and then who says quite convincingly "he's with me" - we both get stamped. if he's someone of importance, i don't really care.

the rest of the night isn't worth mentioning. i get pushed and shoved at zouk members, cue: breaking point. hence i decide to leave slightly before 2am, opting for a quiet supper with jpoh instead, at our usual place.