It was right about this same time last Sunday when the phone rang. It was Jay, calling to say he was coming over. In fact, he was standing in the parking lot below.
My peace was interrupted. It was almost five o'clock and I was still in my pajamas, having spent the screwing around and thoroughly enjoying a day at home. My future plans for my Sunday included a nap, a little more TV, and some "doobu kimchi" for dinner. I resented the intrusion, especially that I was being intruded upon by a guy calling from a cellphone while staring up at my balcony. He was with 2 of his friends, and even though I protested and asked for thirty minutes to get dressed and tidy up a bit, the doorbell was ringing two minutes later.
So, with me in a blue T-shirt and floral flannel PJ bottoms with a messy ponytail, guests forced themselves upon me.
So, while three men arranged themselves around my coffee table and pulled out bottles of makkoli, I ran around trying to get dressed and straighten things up. Soon, though, I was sitting on the floor beside Jay, "gumbey-ing" my company with a glass of rice wine and some seaweed and fish paste sausages laid out on the table - "anjou" the guys had brought.
When the makkoli was gone, I offered them each a can of Chu-hi that I'd brought back from Japan. Jay scolded me and smacked me on the back, gathering up the cans and hoarding them beside him on the floor. "These are for me and you!" he exclaimed.
"What?!" I asked.
"Don't give to them, these are for us!"
"What are you talking about? They're mine, and they're mine to give to whomever I want!"
He finally relented and gave the cans up, but this was how things had been going. I know he's only (half?) joking, but it's so silly! I don't want to have these conversations. I don't like arguing - and it seems like Jay thinks the way we should communicate is by him scolding me and for me to do a little tantrum dance while whining "Opppaaaaaa!" I'd already been thinking that this was getting old very fast. He's full of advice on how he figures I should act, and I'm full of the opinion that at my age I don't need another father.
Anyhow, someone decided that we should head over to the bar down the hill, so I went along. We shared a pitcher of beer, and then Jay said he and one of the other men had to go to their office. He wanted me to stay with his "older brother" (the oldest guy of the 3) and I did a little tantrum dance and whined "nooooo!" (Actually I said no, leaning in and protesting "he doesn't speak any English!") Jay told me "sure he speaks English!" and that he wanted his friend to get to know me. "He is very important to me and a good man. Please stay a little while with him."
Alright. I didn't want to be rude.
O-Bro (I never did catch his name) suggested that we go to the makkoli house where Jay and I had gone on a date a couple weeks earlier. I said sure. I totally like that place, and they have delicious doobu kimchi, which is what I had been looking forward to before the guys came over anyhow. So we walked to the restaurant and O-Bro spoke non-stop on the 15 minute walk. In Korean. I had no idea what he was talking about, but "mmmm-hmmm'd" and smiled agreeably.
At the makkoli house O-Bro talked non-stop. I watched the clock over his shoulder at one point, and 10 minutes passed by without him pausing - and I said nothing the whole time. When he suggested we go to the norae-bang, I agreed because it meant he would stop talking.
For a change, the karaoke machine wasn't set to "heavy-echo as if you're in a cave," and it sounded pretty good! When the lights would come up after I sang a song, O-Bro would start talking again, so I'd "mmmmm-hmmmm" while I leafed through the English selections, and then I'd just punch in some numbers and start singing again! I'd then point to his face and then to the book, "Pick a song Mr. Talky!"
After awhile, O-Bro decided it was time to try to kiss me and invite himself back to my apartment. ("Me. You home. Let's go.") I assured him that wasn't going to happen, so he said "Ok. Po-po juseyo." (Kiss me.) I told him I'd kiss him if he scored 100 on his next song, and wouldn't you know it, he did. So he came over to my side of the room and licked my mouth! Foreplay over, he again suggested we go back to mine. I said variations of "NO!" ten times, and then suggested he should go home. "You, go home. I'm staying." I convinced him it was fine, I wanted to stay. It was ok. I was staying. It's alright. I stay. Yes. I'm stay here. Stay. Yes. You go. I stay. Bye Bye! Bye! Go! Me? I stay. Byeeee!
So he went home and I stayed for another hour ("service" - whoo-hoo) and I belted out some tunes. It was fun! They didn't have Karma Police, one of my karaoke favourites, but they did have "Just When I Needed You Most," by Randy Vanwarmer!!! Now there's a golden oldie one hit wonder of a song! I sang that puppy twice!
So I don't know what the deal was with all that. I don't know why Jay insisted I stay with O-Bro. I don't know what O-Bro said to Jay about the night. I haven't talked to Jay since. It doesn't bother me if I never talk to him again. Men schmen. I think I should just keep practicing on my own at the norae bang so that once I go back home I can become the next Canadian Idol.
Breakfasts at the Patio at Desert Hills, Yuma
2 hours ago