ol 55 part II
"so, are you disappointed?"
oh shit. think. "in what?"
"in what i am like. am i what you expected?"
"er, yeah. i mean, i knew your interests and stuff from the profile. i guess, though, in terms of appearance, i thought you might have been a bit more, i don't know, indie, rather than..."
"go on. than what."
"i don't know. i don't know how to describe it."
"yes you do."
yes i did. 'slapper' was in fact the word i used the following day when recounting this story.
we met at starbucks. i got there early to take down an espresso and up my energy. perhaps it was the strong lighting, perhaps the hot coffee, perhaps the radiance of dampened dreams, but either way my red face was ambiguous enough to count on the blunder roll. as may have been my opening line, "this feel like somewhere between a blind date and meeting an old friend." neither could have been farther from the truth.
in the bar, they knew her like i knew the smell of sewerage. familiarity and distance. had i expected a group of friends to slot into? perhaps. had i wanted it? perhaps not, when i was squashing into my skinny jeans and evaluating my stubble and whether or not to bring condoms. but did i ever want them as i kept a steady 11 o'clock on her intended-to-seduce gaze. pitt knowledge against prejudice i told myself. she likes clap your hands say yeah. check. she is opening an art space. cool. she is lobbying for a filipino consulate. wow. she has a korean boyfriend of one and half years. phwshh. the pressure valve opens.
yet on the street, as she forwards the options of a drink in her man's bar vs. a cab ride to heundae, she links her arm in mine. no, i am not your friend. no, i am not your man. no, i am not at all comfortable. i slink out of her 5'10" penchant-for-red-hat-wearing grasp and find "reserved" as an explanation for the ground between fucking awkward and fucking rude.
"what are you talking about? you already told me you had a boyfriend."
"i already told you...it was on the way out."
the next bar boasted a stage with connery era bond style alfoil rock formations and extractor fans. and tequila. and san diego craigo, a man seemingly so entrenched in his own dancing vision it took me minutes to recover from his confession of just wanting someone to dance with. not even the four shots of tequila could scrabble the letters in my sobriety as i attempted find a happy place between succumbing to my seductress and remembering this nightmare.
"...and i know you are attracted to me."
"er, i'm not actually."
"what? not even a little bit?"
outside the sun is rising and my "date" is flat on her face on the concrete. then she is knee deep in ocean water, begging me to come in. then she is in the cab with me, spreading sand all over the seat. then she is not getting out of the cab. then she is telling me if i go home i will miss out on something. then she is gone.
in the cab across town i drift in and out of consciousness, and my new found peace is mirrored in the quiet streets. when the 'net turns bad.