Do you really want to make me cry?

First, an hk haiku:

Oh new shoes, new shoes,
Why it is that you hurt me
When I love you so?

Thank you.

Well, I think I should probably explain the last entry (see today's earlier post below). Not that random drunkenness necessarily requires an explanation. But if I don't, what other triflings would I bend your eye with?

(Oh, just as a warning, this is sort of about KB. Yeah, it's an update too, but since KB's been on the mind, he pokes his head up throughout the post, which, in the course of its life, takes a couple chance meetings and extrapolates big and possibly illogical conclusions. It meanders through a couple days and the meaning of life and ends up winding itself around and around KB, until he's covered up in doubts, self-reflection, deep sighs, several cups of booze, indignation, and finally, a Gloria Gaynor-type dismissal. We can always hope the dismissal is of a lasting nature.)

After seeing bigbro and J1 to the airport yesterday morning (it seems like ages ago), my dad dropped me off at school, where I met Vivian, my Taiwanese friend, for lunch. In the cafeteria, though, I heard my name called out and turned to see Curly, KB's old housemate. Vivian generously asked him to sit down with us, even though he had finished eating and even though she and I haven't had a good talk in weeks.

Curly, who's attending graduate school here, is quite bored these days, since most of his friends have left for their homelands. He was quite close to KB and to Borough (their other white guy housemate), and both of them are gone.

(In an interesting side note, Borough left Korea last week, and Curly's interpretation of his departure was this: to escape having to deal with the consequences of breaking up with his Korean girlfriend. Borough and his girlfriend always seemed so in love when I saw them, but Curly said that her jealousy got on Borough's nerves -- he could never hang out with mixed company without her insisting on coming along, for example. Borough and his girlfriend were the couple whose lovey-doviness precipitated my confession of like to KB that fateful snowy night in March, because I saw their open affection and closeness and was reminded of how much I'd settled for with KB. And now, three months later -- poof. Over, gone. Have a nice life.)

So. Curly's bored and chatty, and I casually ask if he's heard from KB. He shakes his head slowly in mock disgust.

"KB called Sang-hui a couple weeks ago -- you know Sang-hui, right?"

"Uh, no."

"Really?" Curly looked quizzical, and then shrugged. "Well, he called Sang-hui last week, and when Borough and I complained that he hadn't called us, he said it was because we've been in email contact. So since then I haven't emailed him."

Curly adopted an air of petulance. I adopted an air of amusement.

And I asked myself, "Who the hell is Sang-hui?"

KB does not keep in touch very well; we all know that. But someone he actually took the time to call...? Who else could it be but the woman he'd fallen in love with?

After lunch, I went to my Chinese character class, where as usual, I enjoyed the concentration required to learn the complicated ideographs. After class, I went to study on the eighth floor lounge, and as I was studying, someone came in and said, "Hi, Helen." It was Rather Handsome British Man, from taekwondo.

"Have a seat! Drink your coffee!" I gestured to a seat next to me.

"I will, but I'm going to go have a smoke first," he said.

"Ooh, can I have one?"

"Sure!"

So we went to the smoker's stairwell and had about 5 between the both of us, while talking about the usual -- longterm residents of Japan and their rights; the difference between the terms "England," "Britain" and "UK"; being surprised by one's mother-in-law whilst lounging nearly naked in bed and picking one's toes; how hairiness was considered a sign of barbarity by the Japanese; Iris Chang's book The Rape of Nanjing. (Talking with RHBM always makes me feel so intellectual and well-read.)

This pleasant smoker's interlude was followed by Vivian arriving for our afternoon date, along with Gyung-li, the girl I visited in Beijing in January (Gyung-li was there to borrow some money from me). After Gyung-li left, Vivian and I started discussing whether I should go to KB's homeland or not.

"If you don't go, you might always wonder if you should have gone, or what might have happened if you had gone," she counseled. "You never know what's going to happen. You might see him and think, 'oh no, what was I thinking'!"

We laughed.

"Maybe I should just ask him what his expectations are," I wondered out loud.

Vivian shook her head. "No, don't do that, because then what can he say? He won't want to build your expectations or hurt you, so he won't say anything. Besides, that's the kind of thing you need to ask in person, so you can see the other person's face."

She paused for a moment. "You know, I was in a similar situation once, with a guy I liked a lot, who had a girlfriend. We got to be really good friends. We would spend the whole day together -- people thought we were a couple.

"We went abroad to study English -- he was in Florida and I was in Canada -- and I tried really hard to bring us closer and keep our friendship alive. For two years, I would be anxious whenever I sent an email, waiting for him to reply, and I would analyze his emails whenever he sent them. Finally, he eventually came to visit me, and he confessed that he liked me too.

"Unfortunately," she continued with a grin, "by then I had decided that enough was enough and decided to move on.

"Anyway, I'm telling you this because these things can work out. But if you don't go, then you'll never know.

"Just go," she advised. "Don't think about it too much. Just look at it as a trip to a nice country, and a way to see a good friend, and see how it goes."

I looked at her with, I'm sure, a comically tragic face. "I'm anxious about it. I don't want to go there and be completely disappointed and get all sad again like I was this spring."

"Why don't you write to him and tell him you'd like to visit, and ask when a good time would be? Then you can see how he reacts," Vivian suggested practically.

I brightened up. "You're a genius," I told her, "you problem-solver, you."

I left our conversation feeling cheered, but a few minutes after we parted, I suddenly realized something. Vivian was basing her advice on her past experience (which, as we already know, is no guarantee of future performance), and that past experience was rooted in an eastern culture. The funny thing about this whole KB situation is that the people here with whom I can talk know KB, but they come from Asian cultures, where, for example, the phenomenon of casual sex is not that widespread. The people in the States I can talk to about this probably have a better grasp of how KB thinks, but they don't know KB.

So I thought about Vivian's story, and how she'd been close with this guy with the girlfriend, etc., etc., and I suddenly realized, ya know, KB and I are not that close. We're not. We've never spent the entire day together. We've never been mistaken for a couple. KB himself pointed out that we had not spent that much time together, despite our sharing three classes over the course of a year.

I've been agonizing about going to see someone who was a glorified crush.

The problem, of course, was sleeping together. Not only just the last few days KB was here, but the handful of times I spent the night lying next to him last year when I stayed too late in Shinchon to catch the subway home. That kind of physical closeness distorted my perception of the relationship -- which was a nice, friendly sort of classmate closeness -- elevating it to something it wasn't. The final five nights KB was here completed the distortion.

I finally understand why sleeping with someone too early in a relationship is unadvisable -- it builds a false sense of intimacy. And that's exactly what I've been fooling myself with. The illusion of intimacy.

I kept thinking about this as I rode the subway to taekwondo class, which we ended a bit early in order to celebrate RHBM's February wedding and imminent departure from Korea. After class, we stood around and had fried chicken and beer. RHBM had brought a bottle of Chilean wine, which reminded me how nice it is to drink something soft and fruity instead of hard and malty or hoppy.

During the eats, I'm afraid we probably committed a faux pas by sneaking out to have a smoke outside -- it doesn't do to have the guest of honor slip out for 10 minutes. But I'd do it again, if only to collapse into shocked and highly amused laughter one more time when RHBM said "Excuse me" and proceeded to let loose a 10-second-long, fried-chicken and beer-inspired belch.

No, it really was 10 seconds long.

If the burp wasn't sign enough, I knew that RHBM and I were friends when he asked, "Do you want to get a beer somewhere after this? It's my last time in this area, after all." Mindful of etiquette (and unsure if he meant just me), I asked if he wanted to ask other people to come, and he agreed.

About 10 of us went to a karaoke bar, the same one we'd gone to a couple weeks ago, and our taekwondo master surprised me by telling me to please smoke comfortably in his presence (not too many 49-year-old Korean men would). So everyone alternated between singing in our given room, and sitting companionably in the hall, smoking. RHBM insisted that I sing Love Me Tender with him, which I did quietly, since I really don't know the song.

As the guest of honor, RHBM paid for the chicken and beer, which he expected to, but he didn't realize he'd have to pay for the karaoke place as well (I didn't know that either). Since he hadn't brought enough, I chipped in. We discussed going to a third place with everyone, but when I pointed out that he might be expected to pay for that too, that decided him.

"I wouldn't mind another beer, though, would you? Do you want to go somewhere and grab one?" he asked.

"Um, sure," I replied. Our taekwondo master said he'd see everyone off first, which meant several very, very awkward moments during which I volunteered that RHBM and I were going in the same direction and therefore would be going in the same cab, at which point someone piped up, "Wait, didn't you go in the opposite direction the last time? Don't you live in Kangdong-ku?"

"Uh, yeah," I stuttered in Korean, "well, uh, I don't know. No, I'm, uh, staying somewhere else tonight. I mean, I don't know." And with that eloquent declaration, I hurled myself into a cab.

You'd think RHBM and I were going to go off for a tryst or something, wouldn't you? Well, it was all very easy for HIM to play ignorant about rule of etiquette, but I definitely felt rude about continuing the night with the guest of honor without the group.

In any case, we went to Itaewon to a sports bar he knew, and sat around talking for the next two hours: Kerry's chances in the upcoming U.S. election, how to inspire people from disadvantaged communities to take advantage of federal programs, Michael Moore, what the hell Tony Blair is thinking, touchy-feely Korean brother-in-laws getting teary-eyed and grabbing one's hand and thigh during taxi rides, how there has to be another agenda for Britain's support of the war in Iraq, U.S. foreign aid to Israel, Irish Rovers, Jack Black, the costs of higher education in the UK and U.S., how an "American breakfast" is really an English breakfast and other things that Americans do that annoy the English, passing gas freely in public, and "sharts".

(If you don't know what the last item is, you don't need to. RHBM has a surprisingly great fondness for scat humor.)

He also thanked me for chipping in for the karaoke bar fee, to which I replied, "Well, I'll be sure to call in a favor sometime. When you're a high-ranking diplomat, I'll give you a call and say, 'Hey, remember that night at the karaoke bar in Seoul in 2004....?"

"...yeah, airlift me out of Zambia!" RHBM laughed.

Oh yes, and certain gutless fellows who fall in love and don't say anything to the object of affection. That was rather pleasing, and because it was so pleasing, I'll tell you how that part of the conversation went:

"So, do you have a boyfriend?"

"No. I told you that before."

"Sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing you when you were teaching English to your friends at school one afternoon. Someone asked you about your boyfriend, and you said 'No comment'."

"Oh, that was someone else."

"Really?"

"Yes, really! I don't have a reason to lie. I just don't have a boyfriend."

"Huh." Pause. "Why not?"

I rolled my eyes and shrugged wearily. "Ask the male population of Korea."

RHBM laughed. "Do your parents care if you marry Korean or not?"

"Nah, not really. But ideally I'd like it if my partner had some experience living in Korea or some exposure to Korean culture."

"Then maybe you should stay here; there's a smaller chance of finding someone with Korean experience in the States, isn't there? Except for Korean Americans."

"Yeah, maybe." I looked at him and considered. "Actually, I broke up with my longterm boyfriend about six months after I arrived here, and for a long time I didn't feel like dating. And then when I did, well, the pool of eligible candidates isn't very big."

"But the language school -- there's quite a diverse crew that goes there, isn't there? There wasn't anyone?"

Marveling at the pinpoint precision of RHBM's guess, I slowly said, "Well... there was someone..." I paused, trying to figure out how much to say. "... but he went back home."

"Ah," RHBM said. "Well, that's the problem, isn't it, with expats."

"Yeah," I said, still thinking. "Well, as I may never see you again, I'll tell you this: he's from [ ], right? And he was supposed to be here for another year, but he got a job back home, and decided to take it. But before he left, he came back for a visit for a few weeks, and we hooked up. But it turned out that he was in love with someone else, and had been for the past two years."

"So..." RHBM furrowed his brow, "he was still going out with her?"

I shook my head. "No, he never told her, because he didn't want to ruin their friendship."

RHBM's face took on an expression of puzzlement and disbelief.

"So, RHBM," I laughed, "this is the point in the conversation when you're supposed to assure me that this guy made a mistake, of course, because how could anyone choose someone else after meeting me? I mean, really."

Grinning, he replied in a teasing tone: "Well, of course, he clearly did, hk, because no matter how marvelous of a guy he is -- and he clearly must be if you think so highly of him --" (I laughed at this point and he broke up a bit too) "-- no matter how marvelous of a guy he is, he's probably not a guy you want to be involved with anyway, because he sounds just a bit ... gutless."

"I know, huh?" I said. "The funny thing is that he just emailed me last week and asked if I had any plans to visit [ ]."

"That's rather non-committal, isn't it?"

"Exactly! If he wants me to visit, he should say so! What's with this 'any plans to visit?' business?"

RHBM poked fun at me: "Right, and he should get it signed, sealed, and --"

"-- and notarized, damn it!" I finished, and we both laughed.

RHBM and I sat in the bar until 3 or so in the morning, finishing up with an Absolut vodka tonic (yum). Outside the bar, a cab was at the curb, and he told me to take it. "I'll probably see you at school next week."

"Yes," I said, "but in case I don't see you..." I trailed off, not sure what to say. I had a really great time getting to know you these past few weeks, and I hope we'll stay in touch? Thanks for a lovely evening and by the way, I really admire your guts in staying out til the wee hours with another woman when you just got married in February?

RHBM completed my thought smoothly, "I'm sure I'll see you. You usually study --"

"--on the eighth floor, right."

"-- and I'll be sure to get your email address then too."

"That would be nice," I beamed. He opened the cab door for me, laughed when I said with false emotion, "Ah, chivalry's not dead," and then I was off to home, thinking about how pleasant the night had been, and how nice it was to talk about serious and low-brow topics through the course of a conversation, and finally, how, when you take the physical stuff out of the equation, RHBM is a far better match for me than KB.

And with that, I let go of KB. Poof. Done, over, have a nice life.

(Please bear with me as I roll on the floor for several minutes, howling with laughter.)

Whew! Thanks. Look, of course it's not that easy. But -- the positive effect of pheromones and likker aside -- Thursday was an illuminating and oddly freeing day. KB is a crush who is more than a crush, and I still have feelings to sort through, but I'm carrying far fewer illusions about him now. I doubt I'll go see him, but I'd be really happy to have him as a friend.

Following Miss D's advice, though, I'm not gonna answer for a good long while, though. I may be gaining wisdom by the truckload here, but I'm proud to say I still have plenty of pettiness to go 'round. Whee!