Match dot con

Just came back from a 4 and a half hour second date with a very nice, smart, sweet scientist, and am totally exhausted. It takes so much energy to be pleasant. Dating seems like a big con, if you ask me. You want to put your best foot forward, so you talk about common interests and current events, and you smile and nod and act interested like the extroverted person you're not, when really you'd rather be sitting in a darkened room with bags of Smartfood and Cheetos, catching up on past episodes of Heroes and Ugly Betty.

This is possibly a sign that me and this very nice, smart, sweet scientist should not be going on any more dates.

This is also possibly a hint to me that I should not drink a bottle of soju for my birthday and expect to be chipper the next morning. You're not 22 anymore, hk!

God, which reminds me, did I really engage in some drunken emailing last night with the Destroyer? Yes... yes, I did. In fact, I stumbled into Joiner's room completely tanked, asked her for the Destroyer's number, which, when she pulled it out, was written on a Post-it on the top of which was written: "DO NOT CALL." Instead, I engaged in... drunken emailing. With the Destroyer. Oh god, the shame of it!

What's worse is the stupid ass content of the emails, which I reproduce here because it is part of my penance for engaging in such moronic behavior:

Me (11:45 p.m.): Hey Destroyer, how goes it?

Destroyer (12:35 a.m): Sweet, dude. You?

Me (12:39 a.m.): I am totally fucking awesome. Also, totally fucking drunk.

Destroyer (12:41 a.m.): Alone on the computer?

Me (12:46 a.m.): Now I am. Before, I wasn't.
Up late partying? Packing for exotic spring break locale?

Destroyer (12:49 a.m.): You weren't alone on the computer? V. uncomfortable...
No. Just up late. Not going anywhere for spring break. Must stay and fucking help people... damn pro bono hours...
You traveling?

Me (12:55 a.m.): You are so evil. You haven't done your fucking pro bono hours? Dude, I finished those in the first semester of 1L year.
Not traveling for spring break. Wish I were. Somewhere warm, sandy and snow-free. With lots of drinks.

Destroyer (1:02 a.m.): Evil? Yeah, I guess that's about right.
I did it my first year but didn't get credit. Only the fucking nerds knew all the documentation rules.
Is it just me, or is Avril Lavigne hot? I mean, fuck.
I wish I were going somewhere crazy, unknown, unpredictable. Screw warmth and alcoholism.

Me (1:07 a.m.): Fuck your crazy/unknown/unpredictable. I went there for winter break and it was battering/difficult/thirsty.
Nerds RULE!!!
Avril Lavigne is, like, 12 years old. Creep.

And thus ended our scintillating "banter."

You know, Korean American women really are terrible people. It's not that we mean to be mean. It's just that it comes out that way, and can be extremely baffling and hurtful. Like tonight, I was talking to this KA woman about my decision to go to NY, and she was all, "Do you even know what it's like to work in NY? Good luck with that." Dude, I just said it was not an easy choice for me. Thanks for the support. And yet, an hour later, she walked out and urged me to call a friend of hers at the firm I'm going to be working at, and smiled with genuine kindness.

Damn. We really do come off as total bitches. But we're actually softies on the inside! We just don't know how to express it, because Korean parents don't communicate!

Speaking of which, I've had two conversations in the past week about Asian families and the lovely unhappiness that characterizes many. The silence, the refusal to acknowledge any problems, the disconnect between reality and surface impressions, and on and on. I am proud to say, however, that when I told my Chinese American friend from Texas that I don't know what my mother does all day because the several times I have asked her, she refused to answer the question and I now no longer ask her, he looked at me in amazement and said, "That's the stuff of novels right there." Yep.