LINK: fortnight (rojie’s version)
Currently listening to: Fortnight – Taylor Swift
I was supposed to be sent away
But they forgot to come and get me
I was a functioning alcoholic
Till nobody noticed my new aesthetic
All of this to say I hope you’re okay
But you’re the reason
And no one here’s to blame
But what about your quiet treason?
I was in a whirlwind romance for fourteen days. I’m really not sure how it all started but it began when Esquire began making comments on my former blog. We talked about how we were failures in our parents’ eyes, it’s almost as if Korean parents are never satisfied and this sense of feeling of self-worth and emptiness has trickled its way down to the next generation. We went on about our hopes and dreams, and what it was like being a minority and a second-generation Korean.
Anyway, I digress, as we were having a pity party for ourselves, we also formed a supportive bond. Almost like a covalent bond, we shared our electrons (stories, struggles, and inappropriate jokes) to become solid and stable…well, as stable as we could be.
He was a lawyer, living in LA, but from Virginia. He went to law school in LA and stayed in Southern California since graduating. Esquire was slightly taller than me at 5’9″ ish, had a skinny frame, and wore Buddy Holly-looking glasses and expensive tailored suits. He was average-looking, definitely not my style, but that’s not what I needed at that time. Other background on him, he had two older sisters who were extremely successful and he was the least accomplished in his family. His father often berated him and made him feel less than.
Me? I was nothing like how my mother envisioned me to be. Not girly, not pretty or skinny enough, nor did I have the 눈치 (noonchi – perceptive, emotional intelligence) to appease her. She would always tell me that her 눈치 was 10 times faster than mine. To be fair, I don’t think that my mind is slow, if truth be told, it is very quick… but hers is undeniably faster. I was a disappointment.
After talking on the phone and video chatting for nearly thirteen days straight for hours, we decided to finally meet up. I was going to meet him at the courthouse with his friend, who was also an attorney. The three of us had lunch at a Southern restaurant and it was fun to watch and listen to them talking shit. They were friends since childhood so they had their private connection going on, while I sat back and observed with a smile.
After we ate, his friend went back to the courthouse and then it was just Esquire and I. Alone. I was a bit nervous and when that happens, I tend to say less. He would ask me questions and I answered like a stammering idiot, as if I forgot how to speak English. For fucks sake.
He grabbed my hand and that’s when I realized how thin he was. His fingers were long and slender and in comparison, my fingers literally looked like Vienna sausages next to him. I was absolutely mortified. He asked me if I wanted to grab dinner with him. I silently wondered if he was a food pusher or if he was a chubby chaser. Not that I was obese, but I was pushing 132 pounds and I thought that he could actually fit into my skinny jeans and maybe even look better in them than me. Before I could blurt out an answer, he was already making reservations for us at a restaurant and we were on our way to the bar to have a Scotch on the Rocks.
Perfect. I knew I was going to need some liquid courage for the night. After two drinks, I was able to let my guard down and became more talkative and surprisingly articulate. By the third Scotch, I was a rambling fool. He could NOT shut me up. He must have found it endearing because he could not stop grinning and laughing.
We never made it to dinner. In fact, he booked us a hotel reservation and when he got up to his room, we were already kissing as he was fumbling around to open the door for us to go in. His hands were all over my body as he was slowly taking off my clothes, one by one till I was in my bra and panties.
I politely excused myself to go to the bathroom since all the alcohol was making me urinate as if I had the bladder of a four-year-old. By the time I returned to the room, I stopped in my tracks and stared at his scrawny body. Fucking shit, seeing that sobered me up so fast because I became extremely self-conscious about my own body. My ass and thighs were bigger than his. His legs looked like chopsticks. Whatever juices were brewing up inside of me had shriveled up and died instantaneously after seeing him naked.
I tried to contain the horror because I didn’t want him to feel bad. It wasn’t his fault that he looked like a walking skeleton. Instead, I played it off and said that my stomach wasn’t feeling so good and hastily put my clothes back on. He led me to the bed and tucked me in, kissed me on the forehead, and told me to rest. I knew he was disappointed but I just couldn’t do it.
I closed my eyes and the bed began to spin with my thoughts. I must have eventually fallen asleep because I woke up with him spooning me. I was the little spoon but his bony hips were jutting into my backside. I tried to distance myself from him but he grabbed me, pulled me towards him, and held me even tighter. I lay there with my eyes open, wondering when the optimal time would be for me to get the fuck out. He must have sensed my tense body next to him and he whispered in my ear, “Do you want to have breakfast?”
It’s day fourteen and honestly, I’m not sure what to think anymore except that I needed to take a shower but I wanted to do it at home, not here… where he was. I told him that I had to go home but that I’d text him later. He hugged me tight and told me to drive safely. I drove out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell and the whole way home, I asked myself over and over again, “What are you going to do now?”
I did what every immature person does. I ghosted him. I know that he was unbelievably hurt by my actions because he tried to reach out to me via texts, DMs, and comments. He left an extraordinary number of voicemails asking me why I was doing this and if he did something wrong. He begged me to give him another chance.
I blocked him on everything.
I couldn’t. It wasn’t him. It was me.
Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me…
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