You can never really be sure how you are going to react until the moment of truth stares you in the face.

Or rather, in this case, when the moment of truth stares your girlfriend in the face, rips open his shirt, runs his hand over his chest, grabs his crotch and sings Backstreet Boys' I Want It That Way.

I would like to report, however, that I remained completely calm. I fought my natural instinct to jump up and punch the man in the face.

Of course, part of the reason for my admirable restraint was the fact that he is larger than me and would take me down in no time. But more importantly, I felt certain that about 300 screaming women, including a grandmother with a walking stick, would clobber me if I laid a finger on him.

So I just sat there smiling like a mug as the Chippendales dancer put the moves on my girlfriend.

In a way, I had no one to blame but myself.

She had not even heard of Chippendales until I told her we were going. Yes, you read right: I took my girlfriend to the Chippendales male revue VOLUNTARILY.

And my father wonders why I never got into medical school.

As most of you probably know, the Chippendales are a Las Vegas-based group of dancing, singing, stripping men who bill themselves as the 'Ultimate Girls' Night Out'.

And indeed, I was one of maybe three men at the show at the Coliseum in Resorts World Sentosa last Saturday night.

It wasn't very difficult to spot the men in the audience. We were the only ones sitting down quietly pretending to look at our phones. Occasionally, we would look up and do our best to give a facial expression that communicated mild disdain.

'Huh! You all getting excited over this?' was the message we were trying to send with our faces.

Of course, the women didn't notice. They were too busy screaming and jumping up and down.

The two women behind me were especially excitable. I say this because they kept on screaming 'THIS IS SO EXCITING! I'M SO EXCITED! OH, MY GOD' at each other throughout the hour-long show.

Meanwhile, my girlfriend tried to keep herself composed. She was also on her feet but refrained from screaming her adoration for the dancers like most other women there.

Perhaps it was out of respect for me and the sit-ups I was doing all day before I went to the show.

The concept of the show is straightforward: Take an otherwise normal, everyday task and try to make it sexy.

Sexiness was achieved through three main methods: running your hand over various body parts while looking sexy, running your body over objects while looking sexy and ripping off all your clothes save for a thong while looking sexy.

For instance, during one segment, the dancers would come out holding mops. This was a very popular segment with the women, who all probably enjoyed the thought of men doing housework.

Except these men were terrible at housework. They mopped for maybe two seconds and then promptly threw the mops away so they could run their hands over their rippling chests and take off their singlets. I wanted to point out some dirt spots on the floor they missed, but I could tell the women would not find this amusing.

In another segment, the men were dressed as workers on a road construction site. This must have been the least productive construction site in the world. No wonder Singapore's construction sector has such a poor productivity record.

Not only did the eight workers not actually manage to repair anything, they also wasted construction materials by rubbing the yellow paint on themselves.

I felt like reporting them to the Building and Construction Authority. These people should be subjected to some kind of levy.

Anyway, to me, most of the segments were very similar to one another.

It just featured the guys ripping off different kinds of clothes. The only mystery was whether they would rip them off violently and throw them to the crowd or take them off gently.

I thought it was all a bit formulaic. The screaming women clearly disagreed. They rushed for each sweaty ripped singlet being tossed into the crowd.

Strange, I thought. The women I know yell at their men for leaving their laundry lying about. They would certainly be upset if the laundry was thrown directly at them.

After the show, I asked my girlfriend, who prides herself as a modern, sophisticated independent woman, about this. In particular, I wanted to know why women found this so entertaining.

'I'm not sure. I thought it was only mildly amusing. I didn't get it,' she replied, 'Except that part when the guy sang to me. Out of all the women there, he chose me. He looked into my eyes and sang to me.'

In hindsight, maybe I should have punched him.

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This article was first published in The Straits Times.