Then and Now 30 - Hospital Crash
Time: Mid-2007, single and at the hostel.
My first job interview couldn't have gone better. After emailing an application to a very large language school, I checked the hostel computer and found that I had been accepted for an interview. A day or two later, I quickly and happily headed out to an office building where the language school was headquartered. I went up a few floors and waited in the lobby until a foreign girl came by to see me.
The interview was spectacular. I was confident, clearly experienced, funny and all-around ready to take this job, and by her interested reactions, I was looking at a very impressed interviewer... or at least, a very good actor. The most difficult question she asked was having me tell her of some great trouble I had overcome. I told her that in my youth, I had Social Anxiety Disorder (as soft a euphemism for "suicidally depressed, lazy and self-destructive" as I could think of), but that I had turned everything around several years prior.
She made a note on my application, and I got a bit nervous, thinking that the person who reviewed it would think I was still shy around people, and around my future students. I very, very politely asked her if she could make a note that I cured my problem, and she smiled and said, "Of course! I already did it. But I'll underline and circle it, if you want." I laughed and said that would be great. We shook hands, then I went back to the hostel to drop some papers off... then went right back out to adventure a bit.
A few days later, I got an email saying I was accepted, and that all I had to do was choose from of a handful of cities and positions that I wanted to work in. Truth be told, I was nervous. This was the second school that had offered me a job, and knowing that I had a choice between several positions in several cities, all I could think of was, "What if I pick the wrong job or place? What if the students at the place I choose are out of control? What if the money there is bad? What if the best girl in the world is in city four, but I take the job in city two?"
I relayed my fears to Ken that night, and being the awesome guy he is, he just told me to relax and go with whichever job I thought was best for me. He said that things just had a way of working out, and all I had to do was make a decision, and let things happen as they should. With that excellent advice in mind, I decided to do a little recon and compare what the different cities were like. I had already seen the area for my first job possibility, so I went out to one of the couple of cities that this company had planned for me, one that I had a good feeling about.
I called up the branch there and let them know I wanted to come over and look around, but some irritated guy on the phone berated me for wanting to visit without making an appointment. I apologized, politely refused an offer to make an appointment, then said goodbye and hung up. It all seemed a little blown out of proportion to me. After all, I just wanted to shake a couple of hands and look around a bit; I didn't need a guided tour. In all honesty, I was starting to feel a bit soured on the whole "cog in the corporate language school" idea, and started to lean towards finding a school which was smaller and more family-like. I ended up finding that school a week later, but I'll get to that story another day.
Anyway, I went to check out the city that day. I knew it couldn't hurt to look around a bit, because even if I didn't take the job or need to scout, at least I would have a fun trip. The bus arrived at a hospital, and I got off to look around outside. It was an excellent place: outside of the front doors, there was a large park complete with a pond, trees and benches where patients could go outside and relax. I walked around and took pictures while I circled the pond, and I found quite a few excellent scenes with the hospital rising behind and above the treeline, and the pond in the foreground. After that, I picked a random road outside the hospital and started walking up it to see more of this possible future city of mine.
There were almost no buildings where I went. On my left, the mountains rose slightly up, and there were thick and impressive trees obscuring any view behind them. To my right, the mountain gently sloped down into a valley that was overcome with brush, with a couple of residential houses dotted around here and there. I walked up the wide road for only a few minutes when I saw a small gathering of people at the side.
They were all surrounding an old woman who had been hit by a car and thrown off her bike. I didn't hear any of this happen, but I arrived just as one of the men was helping the woman hobble to the curb to wait for an ambulance. I was over in a flash, gently put her other arm over my shoulder, and helped the man get her to a good place to sit. She was so in shock that she couldn't say or do anything. I waited there with everybody until an ambulance pulled up, then I nodded and smiled reassuringly at the unresponsive woman before I continued my walk. Just a bit later, a cute local girl from a convenience store just up the road, who had seen the whole thing, came out of the store at my approach. She smiled broadly at me and waved, and I did the same before I continued on.
The mountain on my left and the valley on my right didn't change for the whole half an hour or so I walked up that road; they were still as picturesque as ever. Eventually, the road ended in a T-intersection, where the road I was traveling on was stopped by a large hedge that I couldn't see through. I think I had seen enough of this area, so I headed back to the hospital.
I went downstairs to one of the little restaurants to get something to eat, and while I was down there, I saw two local college kids, a guy and a cute girl, talking at one of the tables. When the girl, Elaine, saw me, I smiled, she waved back, and I came over to introduce myself to her and her friend, Jack. We ate together while I asked questions about them to break the ice, and I found out a little about their studies in college, but I don't remember any of the details.
Their bus was arriving soon, and it was the same one I was going to take back to the main city, so we all got on together. We talked for a good hour, Jack and I standing while Elaine sat, and I flit back and forth between them to keep them both entertained. Eventually, Elaine's stop came up, and I exchanged e-mail addresses with both her and Jack. He and I said goodbye to her, then when she was gone and I was alone with him, I could tell he was looking a bit nervous.
I smiled. "Do you like her?" I asked. "Are you dating?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I want to," he answered.
I raised my hands slightly in mock surrender. "Don't worry at all," I said. "I'm just making friends, and I'm not going to get between the two of you. I promise."
He looked a bit relieved, thanked me, then started to open up a little more as the bus continued on. And when my stop came up, I got off and said goodbye. I kept in contact with them for a week or two, and though they eventually stopped emailing me, I still felt happy getting to know them. I didn't end up taking the job in that city, but it was a great trip.
As for today...
I woke up at 5:00.
I played video games.
My wife and son woke up, so I turned off the computer.
I ate lunch.
I watched TV.
My wife went to work.
I played video games.
I played cars with my son.
I roughhoused with him.
I watched internet movies with him.
I took him to the arcade, then we went home.
I watched TV.
I went out to tutor students.
I came home.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I folded and put away dry clothes.
I played video games.
I slept.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Then and Now 29 - Biker Blood
Then and Now 29 - Biker Blood
Time: Mid-2007, at my bud's aunt's place.
I started feeling very grateful for the life I was living abroad not long after I started taking responsibility for myself and having fun. So one day, I decided I wanted to do a little something to give back: I would donate blood. My bud decided not to come with me, and wanted to stay behind to relax at his aunt's place with a cool fan and a warm laptop, so I decided to go on my own. He told me the local words for "give blood" before I left, but I forgot them as I was halfway to the hospital, so I decided to use easy words to try and get my point across when I got there.
In the hospital, I was very careful not to disturb anyone. It was filled from wall to wall with concerned family members nursing their elderly parents in wide hospital beds, and I didn't want to intrude any more than I had to. I got to the information desk and began talking in the local language:
"Hi."
"Yes, what do you need?"
"Can I give blood here?"
"Huh?"
"Give blood. Give other people my blood."
"Please wait."
She got on the phone and called a doctor, looking a little worried. After a quick talk, she put the phone down and motioned for me to go inside. The doctor was seated behind a little curtain, and a patient was seated in front of him. They both looked at me, then the doctor spoke to me.
"Are you bleeding?" he asked in English.
"No, I want to give blood. Can I give blood here?" I responded in the local language.
"What?" he asked, this time in the local language.
"Can I give blood? Give blood to other people?"
He looked at me strangely.
I blinked a few times. "If someone is sick and they need blood, I can give them my blood." I put my thumb and index finger in a pinching motion over my arm, then turned my hand over twice like I was pulling out a needle.
The doctor's face lit up in recognition. "You want to donate blood, is that right?"
I recognized the words that my friend told me. "Yes! That's right. Can I do that here?"
He smiled and shook his head. "No, you have to go to a blood donation *something* (probably "center"). I can tell you how to..." He stopped, looked at me for a second, then pulled out a piece of paper. "I can draw you a map."
I felt embarrassed, but I watched as he drew a functional map on a piece of paper and handed it to me.
"Can you read this?"
"Yes," I answered.
He nodded, finished the map, then handed it to me. I shook his hand, and asked if I needed to pay for seeing him. He said no, then I apologized to his patient for barging in, thanked the doctor, and we all smiled and waved goodbye. With that fun done, I walked out into the heat and started down the street to give some blood.
There isn't much to say about the trip to the blood donation center: it was blisteringly hot, but the path I followed to get to the center led me between several rows of tall buildings for some much needed shade, and I was there in no time. At the corner of a very busy intersection, I found the building I was looking for: it looked like any other office building, and the donation center wasn't marked by either sign or temporary banner outside. I guess enough people knew about it that they felt they didn't need to advertise.
The donation center was on the third or fourth floor of the building. I had spent my life in America giving blood only at traveling bloodmobiles or at hospitals, so to see it in a place where I would expect cubicles and a whole lot of typing was a bit strange. The main lobby was very cozy, and had several tables filled with magazines to read as people waited for their turn to donate. There were maybe half a dozen locals there, waiting and reading quietly. Luckily, the nurse there offered me a form that was in (somewhat muddled) English, so I was able to fill it out with little fuss. Then, I went to sit across from the locals, and struck up a conversation with a heavyset young man who was reading a motorcycle mag.
"Hi," I said.
"Hey," he replied.
"Do you like motorcycles?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have one?"
"Yeah, you?"
"I did, back in America. What big is yours?"
"Huh?"
Unfortunately, I didn't learn that question word. "Um... is it 500cc? 800cc?"
He stared at me blankly.
"What's the word for the machine in the front of the car that makes it go?"
"The engine?"
"Yeah, that's it! Is it 500, 600...?"
"Oh, it's 800."
"Excellent. My first bike was a 650, and the next one was an 800. Both Suzukis."
"Su...?"
"S-U-Z-U-K-I?"
"Oh. Mine's a *something*."
I nodded like I understood. "Cool. How fast have you ridden it?"
He smiled. "Not very fast. The streets are small around here."
I laughed. "Too bad."
He was a good guy, but I got the feeling I was making him uncomfortable, so I thanked him for putting up with my bad language skills, and he smiled before going back to his magazine.
Pretty soon, it was my turn. The nurse had a bear of a time trying to find a vein in my left arm, probably assuming that it was my off-hand and I'd appreciate losing it for the next few hours instead of my right. I told her before she started that my right arm was better, because I've never met a nurse who could find the vein in the left arm, but it only took ten seconds for any of them to find one in the right, but she didn't believe me. She worked that thing under and around my skin for a full minute before she finally gave up and immediately found the vein in the right arm. It didn't hurt at all, as most blood donators know: it's the blood sample they take from the back of your hand, or one of your fingers, that hurts like hell.
I lay back in the chair and watched local TV for about ten or twenty minutes, then when the bags were filled, I was let loose to gorge on some good ol' cookies and juice. I even got a hat with the center's name on it, and it's still in my memories box, though I admit I never wore it. And with a little language practice and some interesting people met, and hopefully a life or two saved, I went back to my bud's aunt's place so my bud and I could go out for coffee and tea.
As for today...
I woke up at 7:30.
I played video games.
My wife and son woke up, so I turned off the computer.
I watched TV.
I ate lunch.
I talked with my wife.
She went out to the doctor's office.
I played cars with my son.
I roughhoused with him.
My wife came home.
I did the dishes.
I watched internet movies with my son.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I went out to tutor students.
I came home.
I folded and put away dry clothes.
I surfed the net.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I started a load of laundry.
I slept.
Time: Mid-2007, at my bud's aunt's place.
I started feeling very grateful for the life I was living abroad not long after I started taking responsibility for myself and having fun. So one day, I decided I wanted to do a little something to give back: I would donate blood. My bud decided not to come with me, and wanted to stay behind to relax at his aunt's place with a cool fan and a warm laptop, so I decided to go on my own. He told me the local words for "give blood" before I left, but I forgot them as I was halfway to the hospital, so I decided to use easy words to try and get my point across when I got there.
In the hospital, I was very careful not to disturb anyone. It was filled from wall to wall with concerned family members nursing their elderly parents in wide hospital beds, and I didn't want to intrude any more than I had to. I got to the information desk and began talking in the local language:
"Hi."
"Yes, what do you need?"
"Can I give blood here?"
"Huh?"
"Give blood. Give other people my blood."
"Please wait."
She got on the phone and called a doctor, looking a little worried. After a quick talk, she put the phone down and motioned for me to go inside. The doctor was seated behind a little curtain, and a patient was seated in front of him. They both looked at me, then the doctor spoke to me.
"Are you bleeding?" he asked in English.
"No, I want to give blood. Can I give blood here?" I responded in the local language.
"What?" he asked, this time in the local language.
"Can I give blood? Give blood to other people?"
He looked at me strangely.
I blinked a few times. "If someone is sick and they need blood, I can give them my blood." I put my thumb and index finger in a pinching motion over my arm, then turned my hand over twice like I was pulling out a needle.
The doctor's face lit up in recognition. "You want to donate blood, is that right?"
I recognized the words that my friend told me. "Yes! That's right. Can I do that here?"
He smiled and shook his head. "No, you have to go to a blood donation *something* (probably "center"). I can tell you how to..." He stopped, looked at me for a second, then pulled out a piece of paper. "I can draw you a map."
I felt embarrassed, but I watched as he drew a functional map on a piece of paper and handed it to me.
"Can you read this?"
"Yes," I answered.
He nodded, finished the map, then handed it to me. I shook his hand, and asked if I needed to pay for seeing him. He said no, then I apologized to his patient for barging in, thanked the doctor, and we all smiled and waved goodbye. With that fun done, I walked out into the heat and started down the street to give some blood.
There isn't much to say about the trip to the blood donation center: it was blisteringly hot, but the path I followed to get to the center led me between several rows of tall buildings for some much needed shade, and I was there in no time. At the corner of a very busy intersection, I found the building I was looking for: it looked like any other office building, and the donation center wasn't marked by either sign or temporary banner outside. I guess enough people knew about it that they felt they didn't need to advertise.
The donation center was on the third or fourth floor of the building. I had spent my life in America giving blood only at traveling bloodmobiles or at hospitals, so to see it in a place where I would expect cubicles and a whole lot of typing was a bit strange. The main lobby was very cozy, and had several tables filled with magazines to read as people waited for their turn to donate. There were maybe half a dozen locals there, waiting and reading quietly. Luckily, the nurse there offered me a form that was in (somewhat muddled) English, so I was able to fill it out with little fuss. Then, I went to sit across from the locals, and struck up a conversation with a heavyset young man who was reading a motorcycle mag.
"Hi," I said.
"Hey," he replied.
"Do you like motorcycles?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have one?"
"Yeah, you?"
"I did, back in America. What big is yours?"
"Huh?"
Unfortunately, I didn't learn that question word. "Um... is it 500cc? 800cc?"
He stared at me blankly.
"What's the word for the machine in the front of the car that makes it go?"
"The engine?"
"Yeah, that's it! Is it 500, 600...?"
"Oh, it's 800."
"Excellent. My first bike was a 650, and the next one was an 800. Both Suzukis."
"Su...?"
"S-U-Z-U-K-I?"
"Oh. Mine's a *something*."
I nodded like I understood. "Cool. How fast have you ridden it?"
He smiled. "Not very fast. The streets are small around here."
I laughed. "Too bad."
He was a good guy, but I got the feeling I was making him uncomfortable, so I thanked him for putting up with my bad language skills, and he smiled before going back to his magazine.
Pretty soon, it was my turn. The nurse had a bear of a time trying to find a vein in my left arm, probably assuming that it was my off-hand and I'd appreciate losing it for the next few hours instead of my right. I told her before she started that my right arm was better, because I've never met a nurse who could find the vein in the left arm, but it only took ten seconds for any of them to find one in the right, but she didn't believe me. She worked that thing under and around my skin for a full minute before she finally gave up and immediately found the vein in the right arm. It didn't hurt at all, as most blood donators know: it's the blood sample they take from the back of your hand, or one of your fingers, that hurts like hell.
I lay back in the chair and watched local TV for about ten or twenty minutes, then when the bags were filled, I was let loose to gorge on some good ol' cookies and juice. I even got a hat with the center's name on it, and it's still in my memories box, though I admit I never wore it. And with a little language practice and some interesting people met, and hopefully a life or two saved, I went back to my bud's aunt's place so my bud and I could go out for coffee and tea.
As for today...
I woke up at 7:30.
I played video games.
My wife and son woke up, so I turned off the computer.
I watched TV.
I ate lunch.
I talked with my wife.
She went out to the doctor's office.
I played cars with my son.
I roughhoused with him.
My wife came home.
I did the dishes.
I watched internet movies with my son.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I went out to tutor students.
I came home.
I folded and put away dry clothes.
I surfed the net.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I started a load of laundry.
I slept.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Then and Now 28 - Sammi
Then and Now 28 - Sammi
Time: Mid-to-late 2007, single and at the hostel, and later at my apartment.
Sammi was another internet friend that I made, but with a very big difference from my other buddies: she made it clear from the beginning that she was looking for a relationship, and wanted to go on a date with me. She was an absolute beauty, and I got pretty excited. When we met up in the main city, she looked just as stunning as she did in her picture.
We talked together for a few minutes as we walked to a Mexican restaurant to get dinner. Outside was this cute little plastic cactus, which I just had to take a picture of. Inside, the place was very bustling. Sammi and I were seated by the waiter, and we had a great conversation about her college life, her brother's life as a soldier, places I had visited, her time in America, and lots of other things. As we waited to get our orders filled, I noticed her flashing her beautiful smile several times, so I took my camera out to take her picture. She was shy, but after a few reassuring compliments, she relented and let me snap a photo.
I ordered a bean and cheese burrito, a quesadilla and a Sprite, my favorites. When they arrived, I had to force myself to be polite and eat slowly; it had been two months since I had eaten Mexican. And although they were both very salty, almost too much for me, they were still delicious and a great reminder of home. When dinner was done, Sammi and I walked out to where she had parked her car. On the way, I slyly put my hand in hers, and I was excited to feel her squeeze back.
Then, things started to take a turn for the worse.
On the way, she told me she came out with another foreigner a few weeks before, and that he abruptly stopped dating her at some point because he wasn't interested in waiting around for her to make up her mind about sex. I thought at the time that he was just a typical foreign guy who came over for nothing but sex and money, but later events with Sammi would change my mind on that. Later, we were halfway to her car when we walked by a foreign guy holding hands with his local girlfriend. I smiled and nodded at them, but when we were out of earshot, Sammi told me that she got irritated when she saw that kind of couple.
I knew immediately that she had had an unhappy breakup with her ex, another foreigner, and that she was comparing other peoples' relationships to her own. I held out the hope that things were going to go smoothly between us, but deep down, I knew I was in for a ride. At her car, I gave her a hug, and she drove off smiling. Despite the bad end to our date, the next morning I was at the main station and called up Ken, telling him that I had a girlfriend. He congratulated me heartily and requested pictures.
The next time Sammi and I got together was for a trip to the place by the ocean that my bud and I had been to in Then and Now 16. First, we took a boat ride on some calm waters, which was fun with all the other locals seated next to us and enjoying the sights. There were a couple of little islands I could barely make out in the distance, all completely covered in trees. Later, we rented a double bicycle and went to a museum that specialized in ancient history, and as she and I walked through the exhibits, I held her hand here and there.
Whenever we got to a lit place or there were people around, though, she let go and walked a bit away. I couldn't place my finger on what was going on, but about twenty minutes later, she filled me in: she said we were going too fast. I was a bit surprised, seeing as how all we did was hold hands, but I was still cool with slowing down for her.
We went outside a bit later to watch a music show with some drummers and stuff, then we biked back to the rental shop. On the way, she told me that she brought another foreigner here on the exact same trip, bike and all, a week earlier: some older businessman. I didn't know why she was telling me this. Later, when we were riding by some people, she kept nagging at me to slow down and be careful, when I very clearly already was. So with that over with, we went to the market area to get some stuff to eat. I had some strawberries and a hot dog, and I bought her a little tube filled with candy with a duck stopper on top. She refused it with a shake of her head. Then she started getting on my case about getting her food, paying for stuff and opening doors for her. Her exact words: "You're a really nice guy. Too nice, maybe... just kidding!"
I got quiet, and planned what I should do to salvage this chance I had with a hot girl. When we had boarded the train home and she started talking about her grandmother's failing health, I offered her my sympathies... then I got choked up about a similar situation with my own grandmother, who I hadn't heard from in years (she's fine, by the way). I can't say it was my most shining moment, and it's definitely one of the top ten things not to do in front of a date, but I'm nothing if not honest on this blog. She said she was sorry, but I could hear the insincerity in her voice. I was glad for our "date" to be over when I got to my stop.
But I didn't give up. I kept in contact with her over the phone until I moved to my apartment. I remember one time when we texted each other while we watched her favorite show, Supernatural, from our two houses. She responded to my third message talking about one of the support characters with "Let's just watch the show, ok?!"
A while later, we met up again for a short walk with her friends through town, walking down streets through the department stores in the center of the city. I went window shopping with them through some clothes stores that offered dresses and suits of impeccable quality. It would have costed months of my salary to pay for a single set, but they were interesting to look at, nonetheless. Outside, I got Sammi alone and confidently told her that I was ok to start dating again, no hand holding or anything, just taking it slow. She said she needed more time, more than the one or two weeks I had given her, and started taking this condescending "stop rushing me" tone. I knew at that point that she was either friend zoning me, or just leading me on.
We met up three more times after that. The first was when she bought me a blanket that I couldn't afford during my first month at my apartment, which was a sweet gesture that I'm pretty sure was only meant to keep me on the hook, but I happily used it anyway. She then criticized my hair for being too long, which I needed to spike it. The second was when we went to get a steak dinner, but she spent most of the time ignoring me, so I just did a little people watching and watched the shop's TV. She insisted on splitting the bill at the end. The third time, we went out to a burger joint, and I saw her with her glasses and no makeup for the first time. I told her she looked great, and that I really liked the natural look and she should keep it. She disagreed, then criticized me for not cutting my slightly long nails.
I smiled inwardly; I was on to her little game by this point, and her beauty wasn't going to distract me any longer. I ignored her for a week or two, happily meeting up with several other girls who didn't treat me like a "Break in case of emergency loneliness" backup plan, until I texted her while taking the bus home from a long, blissful day of travel.
"Hey, wanna be friends?" I asked directly.
"Ok," she replied.
"Cool. We'll hang out later," I answered, then put the phone away and never spoke to her again.
So why would I make this into a Then and Now, when I obviously had a terrible time with this girl? Well, after the first night, take her out of the equation:
- I had some delicious Mexican food for the first time in months, and got a good walk in the night air that evening, hand in hand with a beautiful girl.
- I took a fun boat ride and saw some beautiful scenery of distant islands, I had never ridden a double bike before, I had a great time looking at the old spearheads and other artifacts at the museum, the drummers outside were amazing, and I got some great food at the market area later.
- I went up several floors of a palatial department store and saw some awesome clothes.
- I got a free, warm blanket.
- I had two delicious dinners.
And most importantly, I had enough self respect to cut off a poor influence from my amazing single life, despite never being able to date this beautiful girl after that. Granted it took me a few weeks to realize I was being jerked around, but back in college, there were girls (Leena and others) I pined after for years without realizing how much of an idiot I was being in the process. Now that I'm married, I'm intimately acquainted with what a s*** test is and how I failed them with Sammi, but all in all, those were some fine trips, Sammi or not.
As for today...
I woke up at 7:00.
I played video games.
My wife and son woke up, so I turned off the game.
I talked with my wife.
I ate lunch.
I took my son to the arcade, then we went home.
I watched TV.
I did the dishes.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I started a load of laundry.
My wife took a nap.
I roughhoused with my son.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I went out to tutor students.
I came home.
I cleaned up the floor and table again.
I hung up wet laundry.
I did the dishes.
I roughhoused with my son.
I watched internet movies with him.
I slept.
Time: Mid-to-late 2007, single and at the hostel, and later at my apartment.
Sammi was another internet friend that I made, but with a very big difference from my other buddies: she made it clear from the beginning that she was looking for a relationship, and wanted to go on a date with me. She was an absolute beauty, and I got pretty excited. When we met up in the main city, she looked just as stunning as she did in her picture.
We talked together for a few minutes as we walked to a Mexican restaurant to get dinner. Outside was this cute little plastic cactus, which I just had to take a picture of. Inside, the place was very bustling. Sammi and I were seated by the waiter, and we had a great conversation about her college life, her brother's life as a soldier, places I had visited, her time in America, and lots of other things. As we waited to get our orders filled, I noticed her flashing her beautiful smile several times, so I took my camera out to take her picture. She was shy, but after a few reassuring compliments, she relented and let me snap a photo.
I ordered a bean and cheese burrito, a quesadilla and a Sprite, my favorites. When they arrived, I had to force myself to be polite and eat slowly; it had been two months since I had eaten Mexican. And although they were both very salty, almost too much for me, they were still delicious and a great reminder of home. When dinner was done, Sammi and I walked out to where she had parked her car. On the way, I slyly put my hand in hers, and I was excited to feel her squeeze back.
Then, things started to take a turn for the worse.
On the way, she told me she came out with another foreigner a few weeks before, and that he abruptly stopped dating her at some point because he wasn't interested in waiting around for her to make up her mind about sex. I thought at the time that he was just a typical foreign guy who came over for nothing but sex and money, but later events with Sammi would change my mind on that. Later, we were halfway to her car when we walked by a foreign guy holding hands with his local girlfriend. I smiled and nodded at them, but when we were out of earshot, Sammi told me that she got irritated when she saw that kind of couple.
I knew immediately that she had had an unhappy breakup with her ex, another foreigner, and that she was comparing other peoples' relationships to her own. I held out the hope that things were going to go smoothly between us, but deep down, I knew I was in for a ride. At her car, I gave her a hug, and she drove off smiling. Despite the bad end to our date, the next morning I was at the main station and called up Ken, telling him that I had a girlfriend. He congratulated me heartily and requested pictures.
The next time Sammi and I got together was for a trip to the place by the ocean that my bud and I had been to in Then and Now 16. First, we took a boat ride on some calm waters, which was fun with all the other locals seated next to us and enjoying the sights. There were a couple of little islands I could barely make out in the distance, all completely covered in trees. Later, we rented a double bicycle and went to a museum that specialized in ancient history, and as she and I walked through the exhibits, I held her hand here and there.
Whenever we got to a lit place or there were people around, though, she let go and walked a bit away. I couldn't place my finger on what was going on, but about twenty minutes later, she filled me in: she said we were going too fast. I was a bit surprised, seeing as how all we did was hold hands, but I was still cool with slowing down for her.
We went outside a bit later to watch a music show with some drummers and stuff, then we biked back to the rental shop. On the way, she told me that she brought another foreigner here on the exact same trip, bike and all, a week earlier: some older businessman. I didn't know why she was telling me this. Later, when we were riding by some people, she kept nagging at me to slow down and be careful, when I very clearly already was. So with that over with, we went to the market area to get some stuff to eat. I had some strawberries and a hot dog, and I bought her a little tube filled with candy with a duck stopper on top. She refused it with a shake of her head. Then she started getting on my case about getting her food, paying for stuff and opening doors for her. Her exact words: "You're a really nice guy. Too nice, maybe... just kidding!"
I got quiet, and planned what I should do to salvage this chance I had with a hot girl. When we had boarded the train home and she started talking about her grandmother's failing health, I offered her my sympathies... then I got choked up about a similar situation with my own grandmother, who I hadn't heard from in years (she's fine, by the way). I can't say it was my most shining moment, and it's definitely one of the top ten things not to do in front of a date, but I'm nothing if not honest on this blog. She said she was sorry, but I could hear the insincerity in her voice. I was glad for our "date" to be over when I got to my stop.
But I didn't give up. I kept in contact with her over the phone until I moved to my apartment. I remember one time when we texted each other while we watched her favorite show, Supernatural, from our two houses. She responded to my third message talking about one of the support characters with "Let's just watch the show, ok?!"
A while later, we met up again for a short walk with her friends through town, walking down streets through the department stores in the center of the city. I went window shopping with them through some clothes stores that offered dresses and suits of impeccable quality. It would have costed months of my salary to pay for a single set, but they were interesting to look at, nonetheless. Outside, I got Sammi alone and confidently told her that I was ok to start dating again, no hand holding or anything, just taking it slow. She said she needed more time, more than the one or two weeks I had given her, and started taking this condescending "stop rushing me" tone. I knew at that point that she was either friend zoning me, or just leading me on.
We met up three more times after that. The first was when she bought me a blanket that I couldn't afford during my first month at my apartment, which was a sweet gesture that I'm pretty sure was only meant to keep me on the hook, but I happily used it anyway. She then criticized my hair for being too long, which I needed to spike it. The second was when we went to get a steak dinner, but she spent most of the time ignoring me, so I just did a little people watching and watched the shop's TV. She insisted on splitting the bill at the end. The third time, we went out to a burger joint, and I saw her with her glasses and no makeup for the first time. I told her she looked great, and that I really liked the natural look and she should keep it. She disagreed, then criticized me for not cutting my slightly long nails.
I smiled inwardly; I was on to her little game by this point, and her beauty wasn't going to distract me any longer. I ignored her for a week or two, happily meeting up with several other girls who didn't treat me like a "Break in case of emergency loneliness" backup plan, until I texted her while taking the bus home from a long, blissful day of travel.
"Hey, wanna be friends?" I asked directly.
"Ok," she replied.
"Cool. We'll hang out later," I answered, then put the phone away and never spoke to her again.
So why would I make this into a Then and Now, when I obviously had a terrible time with this girl? Well, after the first night, take her out of the equation:
- I had some delicious Mexican food for the first time in months, and got a good walk in the night air that evening, hand in hand with a beautiful girl.
- I took a fun boat ride and saw some beautiful scenery of distant islands, I had never ridden a double bike before, I had a great time looking at the old spearheads and other artifacts at the museum, the drummers outside were amazing, and I got some great food at the market area later.
- I went up several floors of a palatial department store and saw some awesome clothes.
- I got a free, warm blanket.
- I had two delicious dinners.
And most importantly, I had enough self respect to cut off a poor influence from my amazing single life, despite never being able to date this beautiful girl after that. Granted it took me a few weeks to realize I was being jerked around, but back in college, there were girls (Leena and others) I pined after for years without realizing how much of an idiot I was being in the process. Now that I'm married, I'm intimately acquainted with what a s*** test is and how I failed them with Sammi, but all in all, those were some fine trips, Sammi or not.
As for today...
I woke up at 7:00.
I played video games.
My wife and son woke up, so I turned off the game.
I talked with my wife.
I ate lunch.
I took my son to the arcade, then we went home.
I watched TV.
I did the dishes.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I started a load of laundry.
My wife took a nap.
I roughhoused with my son.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I went out to tutor students.
I came home.
I cleaned up the floor and table again.
I hung up wet laundry.
I did the dishes.
I roughhoused with my son.
I watched internet movies with him.
I slept.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Vacation, 2012
My vacation, if you can call it that, went pretty much how I expected it to go. Since I have a 72 hour memory regarding my married life, I had to make little notes to myself as time went by so I wouldn't forget any details. I can get the usual routines out of the way, first:
- I smoked like mad for the whole vacation: almost two packs a day. It was getting to the point where the locals downstairs at the convenience store asked me if something happened.
- I think it goes without saying, but I had to clean up my son's toys, and my wife and mom's trash and books and stuff, every night for a total of nine cleanups.
- There was only one day where I didn't do the laundry, but I did it twice the next day, so that came out to nine times.
- I had a two day reprieve from the dishes, because we went out to eat one night, and my wife took care of the other load. So that was seven times total.
- I didn't play more than four hours of video games: once was a sweet spot where my mom, wife and son all fell asleep at the same time, and another was when my wife and son went out to meet one of her co-workers and my mom was busy writing letters. Otherwise, I didn't touch them.
The chores and lack of games didn't really bother me all that much, because the chores were just a little heavier than usual, and my video games basically serve as a counterpoint to my unrewarding, unnoticed work where 95% of the money I make gets taken from me, work that I didn't do during my vacation. Any times where I don't mention what I or my family did, it's safe to assume we were just watching TV or talking.
Day 1 - My wife, son, mom and I went to two arcades to play games and stuff. I don't need to go into detail, because they were the same trips I always take with my son, only with two more coming. On the way, I saw one foreigner co-worker riding by on the road with his hot girlfriend with him, and another foreigner co-worker walking into the arcade with his hot girlfriend. I tried not to let it bother me.
This was also the first day in 20 straight days that I didn't have to work.
Day 2 - We just watched TV all day together and talked. In bed, my wife was in a bad mood and started complaining about everything under the sun: our son not sleeping, the weather, having cabin fever, you name it. I wondered off-hand why she didn't just go to work, stand outside the front door for eight hours, then come home after if it bothered her so much that she had a vacation, instead of dumping everything on me.
Day 3 - We all took a trip to a department store so my wife and mom could go shopping. I told my wife that morning that I wanted to stay behind with our son because I don't like shopping and would have nothing to do, but she insisted that I take our son there and play with him, and wouldn't budge from her position, so I let her have her way.
Before leaving, I suggested that we all take a walk there, because it was less than a mile away and had some great sights. But my wife disagreed, and wouldn't budge from her position, so I let her have her way. After waiting for over an hour for her to get ready, we left.
We split up at the store, and I took my son around to look at and play with a couple of toys, then play in a ball pit. An hour or two later, my wife and mom joined up with me, and we went to get lunch: mostly fish, so I didn't eat much. After we went home, my wife was silent and in a bad mood, so my mom and I took my son to the park to play. I saw a foreigner I've never met walking by with his cute girlfriend, and said hello.
While in the park, two foreigner co-workers that I know well came by, walking their dogs. They're both really nice guys, and they let my son pet their pups. They both live in my apartment complex. I know one of them has a cute girlfriend, and one or the other was busted having sex in the elevator about a year ago. I remember my wife telling me about it and saying, "Isn't that a scandal?!"
"Yeah," I answered then. That could have been me, I thought.
When we got home, and I had spent an hour doing all my nightly chores, my wife went into our bedroom. My son followed her and asked her to put on a diaper. She told him to ask me to do it. I stood up and walked into the room, naively thinking that she was doing something like making the bed or something.
Nope, she was just reading.
I took three steps away from where she was sitting, took a diaper from its case and tossed it at her feet without a word. It was passive-aggressive, I know, and I don't usually act like that, but I was seething too hard to deal with her bossing me around that night, especially after doing all those chores while she surfed the net for ten hours straight, and I didn't want my mom being caught in the middle of any kind of tiff.
Day 4 - We all took a trip this day. First, we waited for almost two hours while my wife got ready. Then, we took an hour long taxi ride before we finally came to a strawberry field where we could cut and buy our own strawberries, which was fun, but we only did it for about ten minutes. Then we walked around while my wife went window shopping for about thirty minutes, then we had lunch.
Another hour long taxi ride later, we came to an outdoor market area, where I played with my son and talked with my mom while my wife window shopped for another two hours. Then, after waiting for her to go to the bathroom for a half hour, we walked along a shaky bridge over a river to see the view for about ten minutes, then we took another hour long taxi ride home. Despite the extreme boredom of the bulk of this trip, I stayed outwardly happy the entire time, and thanked my wife later.
After another hour of chores that night, while my mom and son were fast asleep and a good distance away, my wife and I were in bed, and I asked her if we could have sex. She said she was on her period, so I dropped my idea of sex immediately, but asked if she would take care of me. She shook her head a bunch of times and said, "No, no. It'll be sad that you're the only one having fun."
I flashed briefly back to everything I had done for her in the past few days, all the money I had given her the previous day, and the hour of chores I did while she was on the computer the whole time. After a quiet, inward sigh, I rolled over and said, "Ok."
"Are you angry?" she asked.
"No," I calmly replied with the skill of a Shakespearean actor, "good night."
And I wasn't really angry. I was disappointed in my naivete, thinking that she would appreciate the work I had done for her, and that this time would be different from the other hundreds of times that she's turned me down.
Day 5 - We did nothing but hang out, talk and watch TV on this day.
Day 6 - The four of us took another arcade trip with the last of my tokens, and my mom, son and I went out to the park later, but nothing much else happened.
Day 7 - We took a trip to the city to see some monuments that I have been to several times previously, but I haven't yet written about in a Then and Now. My son played some fishing games, then we all split up so my son and I could wander around one of the monuments for a while. After we all met up again, we ate at Burger King, then went outside of the main station to see another little park/monument that I also haven't written about yet. During the five minute walk, my wife kept nagging about me being lost, and wouldn't stop asking if I knew where I was going. I answered her the same every single time: "I've been there three times. It's right over there." We took some pictures next to the pond there, fed some fish, then took a train back home.
On the way home, my wife was in another bad mood. She reminded me for the twentieth time this month to put on our son's diaper before he went to bed, though it only slipped my mind once. With my mom sitting there or not, I had had enough of the nagging, and I told her straight up, "I only forgot once. You don't have to keep reminding me."
She suddenly shut down and got quiet for the next thirty minutes, and I'll pick up the story at the end of this post because what happened next was important.
Day 8 - My wife took our son out to meet her aunt and uncle, so I watched movies with my mom. When my wife came home with our son, she took my mom out to go shopping again, so I roughhoused with my son in the bedroom. When everyone returned, I took my mom and son out to go to the park one last time, then we went home.
Day 9 - My wife's mother, aunt and uncle came over to have dinner, and we all spent a few hours talking and eating. It was all typical boring marriage stuff (family and work), but I still made quite a good impression with everyone. Early morning the next day, I took my mom downstairs, hailed a taxi for her, said goodbye, then went home to sleep.
So anyway, about the incident on Day 7:
After my wife got silent, and after several other such bad moods that she had been in for the previous few days and weeks, I realized then that I don't really care about my wife's problems or mood anymore. No matter how many times I've given her the exact instructions she needs to fix her many petty problems, she never listens to me, and prefers to fence-sit and feel bad about her issues without taking action to solve them.
I've tried gentle persuasion. I've tried tough love. I've tried ignoring her. I've tried listening patiently. I've tried telling her exactly what I did to go from being a suicidal loser to the man I was before I married. I've tried pity. I've tried shotgunning a dozen suggestions to her. But she never listens. So after she shut down and put herself in another bad mood, and after months of treating me like her house slave and whining on and off, I realized that she's never going to take my advice. She's always going to get upset about stuff, and she's never going to stop. There's nothing she'll let me do, and as long as we're married with a child, she holds all the cards, and there's nowhere I can go.
Then I took this thought to the next step. "What if she's so mad this time that she divorces me?"
I felt lighter immediately; I would love that. As the train took us back to our house, I started making plans for what I would do after our divorce.
First, I'd have to take care of money problems. She'd probably take $1000 or so from my paycheck every month in child support and alimony. I would need another $400 to have enough money to pay my son's way through college in twenty years (and my wife could have it if my alimony and child support payment was higher). I would need $700 to pay for all of my rent, bills and stuff. Then I would add $1000 to give to charity, which I don't have the freedom to do now, and a final $400 for my entertainment.
Then I started to do a little math: $3500 a month at the money I make now would mean I would have to get a second job Monday through Friday, and work from around 10:00 in the morning to 9:00. Just like things were before I married, and was still happy! Or, I could happily sell all of my video games, because I wouldn't need them to distract myself from my new, awesome life, and use the money to support myself while I went back to school and got a license and degree to translate or interpret instead of teach. That would provide me more than enough money to pay for everything, and I wouldn't have to work as much.
Then I started thinking about all the things that marriage took from me that I would get back:
- No more mother-in-law! My life and the life I have with my son would be mine again.
- No more piles of chores! With just me and my son to take care of, and the fact that I don't change his clothes three times a day or want to cook all the time, that would be a (small) weight off my shoulders. I could even pay him an allowance to do all the chores in the house for me when he was older, which would teach him responsibility and ease the pressure of working all day off of me.
- More time! The entire weekend would be mine to spend as I wish.
- More money! From $100 a month to $500 a month, and not spending anything on cigarettes that I would no longer need? I think so.
- More freedom! I imagine that a divorce between my wife and I would result in joint custody: two weeks with mom, two weeks with dad. With dad weeks, I could take my son out anywhere and anytime I wanted: go see ducks, hit up the arcade, drive up into the mountains, and do it in just about any weather without my wife or her mother nagging me to either come home early, or not go at all. And by the time the divorce was finalized, he would be in school and able to go home by himself while I worked, so I wouldn't need to pay for daycare (or at least, for too long).
And for mom weeks, nothing would stop me from going out to any city in the country, all weekend, and making hundreds more friends (and dating candidates) in just a few short months. Adventure, coffee, movies and marathon sex sessions every other night for two straight weeks? Yes, sir. There were only two or three months between me arriving at the hostel and dating my wife, and I made about two hundred friends then, the vast majority of them young women. What was stopping me from making a thousand over the course of a few more months?
Then I started thinking about the few issues I would have during my divorce. Would I get tired of working so hard?
No, because most of the money would be going to me, my son and charity. It wouldn't be like that job I had before where I worked all day, but didn't get paid half the time. And it certainly wouldn't be like the job I have now, where I get $50-100 of the over $2000 I make a month, and give the rest to my family.
Would I be able to find a girl who was not only cool with dating a divorced man with a son, but who had absolutely no desire to make the alluring mistakes of marriage or pregnancy with me?
Please, who do you think you're talking to? I would never sleep with a girl unless she knew about my ex-wife and son, and my lack of a desire to marry or have more kids, so that would be a definite obstacle to overcome. But I had girls all over me when I was single, and there's no reason I couldn't do it again.
No matter how I sliced it, I was ready for the "challenges" of a divorcee's life, because unlike marriage, a divorced man's life in a country that doesn't discriminate against men in family court is as good as he makes it, not as good as his wife allows it to be. By the time I finished fanatasizing about all of this, imagining adventuring with and making love to my ideal girlfriend, imagining all the children's lives that I could save with my charity work, imagining all the fun my son and I could have by letting ourselves loose of the chains that marriage has placed upon me, I was home and smoking my second cigarette. I didn't notice the entire trip home while I was lost in this amazing daydream.
As the cigarette wound down to the filter, I then asked myself a simple question: "So, why is this a bad idea?"
I was instantly bombarded with a series of images:
- I saw a child's drawing, featuring two houses on either side of the paper with my wife and me in either one, and a stick figure of my son crying in the middle.
- I saw my son crying out for me as his mom dragged him away to spend his two weeks with her. Simultaneously, I remembered my brother and I doing the same thing with our first father and our mom.
- I saw the lights in my son's eyes flicker as his mother and I talked politely to one another, only to have them dim into sadness when he realized we would never get back together.
- I remembered the four ways I tried to kill myself in college, suicide attempts that were brought about, in part, due to my broken family situation. And I saw my son's face in place of mine.
A weight pressed down on my shoulders. Invisible hands pushed my head back underwater. I was back, experiencing marriage again.
But all in all, I think this post about my "vacation" is best ended where it began:
After picking my mom up from the airport, and while waiting in line for a taxi outside, a man from Texas standing behind us started talking with me about all the travels he had made in his lifetime. He said that not a single place that he had been to was anything short of perfection, but there was one place he never liked to go: home. "I get depressed when I go home," he said, "like nothing ever changes and I have nothing to look forward to but the same old, same old.
"People who haven't traveled don't know what they're missing," he continued. "Content just sitting around in the ten miles around where they grew up. Some of these people never left the country. Or the state. Or even their city! They don't know anything."
I just nodded, because I didn't want to tip off my mom to how I felt about marriage. But later, the man said something that I'll never forget:
"I might find a wife around here, you never know!"
I said nothing, because my mom was still there. That man was me, freshly arriving in this country with everything going well for him, except for that one destructive thought that marriage is something to strive for. I hope he reconsiders making the biggest mistake of his life.
- I smoked like mad for the whole vacation: almost two packs a day. It was getting to the point where the locals downstairs at the convenience store asked me if something happened.
- I think it goes without saying, but I had to clean up my son's toys, and my wife and mom's trash and books and stuff, every night for a total of nine cleanups.
- There was only one day where I didn't do the laundry, but I did it twice the next day, so that came out to nine times.
- I had a two day reprieve from the dishes, because we went out to eat one night, and my wife took care of the other load. So that was seven times total.
- I didn't play more than four hours of video games: once was a sweet spot where my mom, wife and son all fell asleep at the same time, and another was when my wife and son went out to meet one of her co-workers and my mom was busy writing letters. Otherwise, I didn't touch them.
The chores and lack of games didn't really bother me all that much, because the chores were just a little heavier than usual, and my video games basically serve as a counterpoint to my unrewarding, unnoticed work where 95% of the money I make gets taken from me, work that I didn't do during my vacation. Any times where I don't mention what I or my family did, it's safe to assume we were just watching TV or talking.
Day 1 - My wife, son, mom and I went to two arcades to play games and stuff. I don't need to go into detail, because they were the same trips I always take with my son, only with two more coming. On the way, I saw one foreigner co-worker riding by on the road with his hot girlfriend with him, and another foreigner co-worker walking into the arcade with his hot girlfriend. I tried not to let it bother me.
This was also the first day in 20 straight days that I didn't have to work.
Day 2 - We just watched TV all day together and talked. In bed, my wife was in a bad mood and started complaining about everything under the sun: our son not sleeping, the weather, having cabin fever, you name it. I wondered off-hand why she didn't just go to work, stand outside the front door for eight hours, then come home after if it bothered her so much that she had a vacation, instead of dumping everything on me.
Day 3 - We all took a trip to a department store so my wife and mom could go shopping. I told my wife that morning that I wanted to stay behind with our son because I don't like shopping and would have nothing to do, but she insisted that I take our son there and play with him, and wouldn't budge from her position, so I let her have her way.
Before leaving, I suggested that we all take a walk there, because it was less than a mile away and had some great sights. But my wife disagreed, and wouldn't budge from her position, so I let her have her way. After waiting for over an hour for her to get ready, we left.
We split up at the store, and I took my son around to look at and play with a couple of toys, then play in a ball pit. An hour or two later, my wife and mom joined up with me, and we went to get lunch: mostly fish, so I didn't eat much. After we went home, my wife was silent and in a bad mood, so my mom and I took my son to the park to play. I saw a foreigner I've never met walking by with his cute girlfriend, and said hello.
While in the park, two foreigner co-workers that I know well came by, walking their dogs. They're both really nice guys, and they let my son pet their pups. They both live in my apartment complex. I know one of them has a cute girlfriend, and one or the other was busted having sex in the elevator about a year ago. I remember my wife telling me about it and saying, "Isn't that a scandal?!"
"Yeah," I answered then. That could have been me, I thought.
When we got home, and I had spent an hour doing all my nightly chores, my wife went into our bedroom. My son followed her and asked her to put on a diaper. She told him to ask me to do it. I stood up and walked into the room, naively thinking that she was doing something like making the bed or something.
Nope, she was just reading.
I took three steps away from where she was sitting, took a diaper from its case and tossed it at her feet without a word. It was passive-aggressive, I know, and I don't usually act like that, but I was seething too hard to deal with her bossing me around that night, especially after doing all those chores while she surfed the net for ten hours straight, and I didn't want my mom being caught in the middle of any kind of tiff.
Day 4 - We all took a trip this day. First, we waited for almost two hours while my wife got ready. Then, we took an hour long taxi ride before we finally came to a strawberry field where we could cut and buy our own strawberries, which was fun, but we only did it for about ten minutes. Then we walked around while my wife went window shopping for about thirty minutes, then we had lunch.
Another hour long taxi ride later, we came to an outdoor market area, where I played with my son and talked with my mom while my wife window shopped for another two hours. Then, after waiting for her to go to the bathroom for a half hour, we walked along a shaky bridge over a river to see the view for about ten minutes, then we took another hour long taxi ride home. Despite the extreme boredom of the bulk of this trip, I stayed outwardly happy the entire time, and thanked my wife later.
After another hour of chores that night, while my mom and son were fast asleep and a good distance away, my wife and I were in bed, and I asked her if we could have sex. She said she was on her period, so I dropped my idea of sex immediately, but asked if she would take care of me. She shook her head a bunch of times and said, "No, no. It'll be sad that you're the only one having fun."
I flashed briefly back to everything I had done for her in the past few days, all the money I had given her the previous day, and the hour of chores I did while she was on the computer the whole time. After a quiet, inward sigh, I rolled over and said, "Ok."
"Are you angry?" she asked.
"No," I calmly replied with the skill of a Shakespearean actor, "good night."
And I wasn't really angry. I was disappointed in my naivete, thinking that she would appreciate the work I had done for her, and that this time would be different from the other hundreds of times that she's turned me down.
Day 5 - We did nothing but hang out, talk and watch TV on this day.
Day 6 - The four of us took another arcade trip with the last of my tokens, and my mom, son and I went out to the park later, but nothing much else happened.
Day 7 - We took a trip to the city to see some monuments that I have been to several times previously, but I haven't yet written about in a Then and Now. My son played some fishing games, then we all split up so my son and I could wander around one of the monuments for a while. After we all met up again, we ate at Burger King, then went outside of the main station to see another little park/monument that I also haven't written about yet. During the five minute walk, my wife kept nagging about me being lost, and wouldn't stop asking if I knew where I was going. I answered her the same every single time: "I've been there three times. It's right over there." We took some pictures next to the pond there, fed some fish, then took a train back home.
On the way home, my wife was in another bad mood. She reminded me for the twentieth time this month to put on our son's diaper before he went to bed, though it only slipped my mind once. With my mom sitting there or not, I had had enough of the nagging, and I told her straight up, "I only forgot once. You don't have to keep reminding me."
She suddenly shut down and got quiet for the next thirty minutes, and I'll pick up the story at the end of this post because what happened next was important.
Day 8 - My wife took our son out to meet her aunt and uncle, so I watched movies with my mom. When my wife came home with our son, she took my mom out to go shopping again, so I roughhoused with my son in the bedroom. When everyone returned, I took my mom and son out to go to the park one last time, then we went home.
Day 9 - My wife's mother, aunt and uncle came over to have dinner, and we all spent a few hours talking and eating. It was all typical boring marriage stuff (family and work), but I still made quite a good impression with everyone. Early morning the next day, I took my mom downstairs, hailed a taxi for her, said goodbye, then went home to sleep.
So anyway, about the incident on Day 7:
After my wife got silent, and after several other such bad moods that she had been in for the previous few days and weeks, I realized then that I don't really care about my wife's problems or mood anymore. No matter how many times I've given her the exact instructions she needs to fix her many petty problems, she never listens to me, and prefers to fence-sit and feel bad about her issues without taking action to solve them.
I've tried gentle persuasion. I've tried tough love. I've tried ignoring her. I've tried listening patiently. I've tried telling her exactly what I did to go from being a suicidal loser to the man I was before I married. I've tried pity. I've tried shotgunning a dozen suggestions to her. But she never listens. So after she shut down and put herself in another bad mood, and after months of treating me like her house slave and whining on and off, I realized that she's never going to take my advice. She's always going to get upset about stuff, and she's never going to stop. There's nothing she'll let me do, and as long as we're married with a child, she holds all the cards, and there's nowhere I can go.
Then I took this thought to the next step. "What if she's so mad this time that she divorces me?"
I felt lighter immediately; I would love that. As the train took us back to our house, I started making plans for what I would do after our divorce.
First, I'd have to take care of money problems. She'd probably take $1000 or so from my paycheck every month in child support and alimony. I would need another $400 to have enough money to pay my son's way through college in twenty years (and my wife could have it if my alimony and child support payment was higher). I would need $700 to pay for all of my rent, bills and stuff. Then I would add $1000 to give to charity, which I don't have the freedom to do now, and a final $400 for my entertainment.
Then I started to do a little math: $3500 a month at the money I make now would mean I would have to get a second job Monday through Friday, and work from around 10:00 in the morning to 9:00. Just like things were before I married, and was still happy! Or, I could happily sell all of my video games, because I wouldn't need them to distract myself from my new, awesome life, and use the money to support myself while I went back to school and got a license and degree to translate or interpret instead of teach. That would provide me more than enough money to pay for everything, and I wouldn't have to work as much.
Then I started thinking about all the things that marriage took from me that I would get back:
- No more mother-in-law! My life and the life I have with my son would be mine again.
- No more piles of chores! With just me and my son to take care of, and the fact that I don't change his clothes three times a day or want to cook all the time, that would be a (small) weight off my shoulders. I could even pay him an allowance to do all the chores in the house for me when he was older, which would teach him responsibility and ease the pressure of working all day off of me.
- More time! The entire weekend would be mine to spend as I wish.
- More money! From $100 a month to $500 a month, and not spending anything on cigarettes that I would no longer need? I think so.
- More freedom! I imagine that a divorce between my wife and I would result in joint custody: two weeks with mom, two weeks with dad. With dad weeks, I could take my son out anywhere and anytime I wanted: go see ducks, hit up the arcade, drive up into the mountains, and do it in just about any weather without my wife or her mother nagging me to either come home early, or not go at all. And by the time the divorce was finalized, he would be in school and able to go home by himself while I worked, so I wouldn't need to pay for daycare (or at least, for too long).
And for mom weeks, nothing would stop me from going out to any city in the country, all weekend, and making hundreds more friends (and dating candidates) in just a few short months. Adventure, coffee, movies and marathon sex sessions every other night for two straight weeks? Yes, sir. There were only two or three months between me arriving at the hostel and dating my wife, and I made about two hundred friends then, the vast majority of them young women. What was stopping me from making a thousand over the course of a few more months?
Then I started thinking about the few issues I would have during my divorce. Would I get tired of working so hard?
No, because most of the money would be going to me, my son and charity. It wouldn't be like that job I had before where I worked all day, but didn't get paid half the time. And it certainly wouldn't be like the job I have now, where I get $50-100 of the over $2000 I make a month, and give the rest to my family.
Would I be able to find a girl who was not only cool with dating a divorced man with a son, but who had absolutely no desire to make the alluring mistakes of marriage or pregnancy with me?
Please, who do you think you're talking to? I would never sleep with a girl unless she knew about my ex-wife and son, and my lack of a desire to marry or have more kids, so that would be a definite obstacle to overcome. But I had girls all over me when I was single, and there's no reason I couldn't do it again.
No matter how I sliced it, I was ready for the "challenges" of a divorcee's life, because unlike marriage, a divorced man's life in a country that doesn't discriminate against men in family court is as good as he makes it, not as good as his wife allows it to be. By the time I finished fanatasizing about all of this, imagining adventuring with and making love to my ideal girlfriend, imagining all the children's lives that I could save with my charity work, imagining all the fun my son and I could have by letting ourselves loose of the chains that marriage has placed upon me, I was home and smoking my second cigarette. I didn't notice the entire trip home while I was lost in this amazing daydream.
As the cigarette wound down to the filter, I then asked myself a simple question: "So, why is this a bad idea?"
I was instantly bombarded with a series of images:
- I saw a child's drawing, featuring two houses on either side of the paper with my wife and me in either one, and a stick figure of my son crying in the middle.
- I saw my son crying out for me as his mom dragged him away to spend his two weeks with her. Simultaneously, I remembered my brother and I doing the same thing with our first father and our mom.
- I saw the lights in my son's eyes flicker as his mother and I talked politely to one another, only to have them dim into sadness when he realized we would never get back together.
- I remembered the four ways I tried to kill myself in college, suicide attempts that were brought about, in part, due to my broken family situation. And I saw my son's face in place of mine.
A weight pressed down on my shoulders. Invisible hands pushed my head back underwater. I was back, experiencing marriage again.
But all in all, I think this post about my "vacation" is best ended where it began:
After picking my mom up from the airport, and while waiting in line for a taxi outside, a man from Texas standing behind us started talking with me about all the travels he had made in his lifetime. He said that not a single place that he had been to was anything short of perfection, but there was one place he never liked to go: home. "I get depressed when I go home," he said, "like nothing ever changes and I have nothing to look forward to but the same old, same old.
"People who haven't traveled don't know what they're missing," he continued. "Content just sitting around in the ten miles around where they grew up. Some of these people never left the country. Or the state. Or even their city! They don't know anything."
I just nodded, because I didn't want to tip off my mom to how I felt about marriage. But later, the man said something that I'll never forget:
"I might find a wife around here, you never know!"
I said nothing, because my mom was still there. That man was me, freshly arriving in this country with everything going well for him, except for that one destructive thought that marriage is something to strive for. I hope he reconsiders making the biggest mistake of his life.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Then and Now 27 - Bar Trick
Then and Now 27 - Bar Trick
Time: Mid-to-late 2007, single and at the hostel, and later at my apartment.
Eli annoyed me when I first met him.
I got in touch with him through the internet, trying to find tutor work to improve my finances. I had been tutoring maybe four or five people at the time, one or two hours a week apiece, and putting that money into a fund to pay for my eventual housing when I found a job. I had two profiles on the same website, one for making friends and the other for making students. And to be honest, I only wanted the former; I didn't want to take money from people for the pleasure of learning English from me. Besides, it seemed unfair that I was charging some people, and not others, for my time, especially when I was enjoying myself either way.
But it was a survival issue. I didn't have enough money to pay for my hostel fees for more than three weeks, and even after I supplemented my savings with tutoring, I still was only able to extend my stay there to four weeks before I was officially out of money. I wasn't afraid to sleep in a park or an alley for a month if I got a job and couldn't afford a place to live. It would only have been thirty days of homelessness before everything turned around, and I've been in the same situation before. But I was still doing everything I could to save up money so that wouldn't happen, and had every intention of dropping all of my tutor students and hanging with them as friends when my finances were back in the black.
So when I got an email from Eli saying that he was interested in becoming a temporary student, I felt a bit relieved. With the money he could provide me, I would definitely have enough money to buy food for the month that I might be homeless. It was getting late in the day and the sun was about an hour or two from setting. I was at the main station, waiting outside of a coffee shop to meet up with my new student. He arrived well on time, an older guy in his mid-to-late thirties, and we sat down to some coffee, his treat.
And after our introductions, he said it: "Is it ok if I just take you around town to some bars while we study, instead of paying you?"
I mentally balked. He promised to pay me for my time in emails, and now he's going back on his word, I thought. Nonetheless, I said it was ok, because I figured I could get a free meal from him, then never speak to him again, and find a real student to hang with in the next week. It wasn't the loss of money that bugged me: it's that this guy promised one thing, then bait-and-switched it for something else. I figured that if I couldn't take him at his word, then he had other qualities about him that might lead to trouble.
We talked as he pulled out his laptop and showed me some stuff he did at his work. I don't remember what he did, to be honest... I might have still been miffed about the bait-and-switch. After coffee, we split up so he could get his car out of a parking lot, and I went upstairs to wait for him on the street. When he pulled up, I hopped in and we were off.
Eli played tour guide very well, and pointed out department stores, parks and other sights around us as we drove. After a short trip, we ended up at a sports bar that apparently catered to foreign men. They were everywhere: shouting, laughing, drinking, talking, and just generally making the place extremely lively. Unfortunately, the TV was turned to soccer, one of those sports that I feel is a blast to play, but boring to watch. It didn't stop the foreigners in the bar from cheering loudly every hour or so when someone managed to score, though. It was a great atmosphere, and when Eli and I got to our seats, an incredibly hot local waitress came by to take our orders. Eli told me to get anything I wanted, so I ordered a couple of beers and a big basket of french fries (and he taught me the local word for the latter).
The bar was really loud, and I had to strain to hear much of what Eli had to say. And to be honest, I don't remember any of what we talked about, because I spent a lot of time people watching around the bar as we snacked and chatted. I saw one very overweight foreigner at a seat in the middle of the bar with his very overweight local girlfriend. He seemed to really be enjoying himself, but the girl's face was a mask of either extreme boredom, or subdued anger. I don't know what her problem was. Most of the other foreigners were in good shape and very well dressed. Some of them were singing songs in the corner, but most of them had their eyes glued on the TV, and screamed, groaned, cheered or cursed in unison as events unfolded in the game.
That was my first time at a sports bar, but I got used to it very quickly. I let my experiences at my bud's aunt's place in Then and Now 21, where my bud, his uncle and I watched baseball together, serve as a guide to enjoy the people around me along with the sport. Soon enough, Eli and I started having fun watching the game with everybody. His and my cheers and jeers came a little later than everyone else, because to be honest, I didn't know what the soccer teams were doing that was so amazing, but it was still fun to join in with everyone.
After about an hour, he and I got back in his car, and he took me directly back to the hostel. On the way up the elevator, I think he had proven himself, and decided to hang out with him again someday. For that night, though, it was time for a late night talk with my friends at the hostel, a shower, then bed.
We didn't talk to one another, even through email, for about a month. After a while, I figured that the sports bar would have been the last time I ever talked to him, but after I moved to my apartment, I got a call on my cell from him. We set up a time to meet again, and I went to a very busy shopping district to meet up with him. It was night, and there were tall department stores with glowing neon signs climbing up into the sky everywhere I looked. I stood on the corner of an extremely busy intersection where cars were honking, speeding, turning, U-turning, braking, picking people up and dropping others off in every direction. It was an absolute madhouse.
Standing on the corner were a few foreigners. Two of them were shorter and kind of quiet, and the last was very tall and standing there with his local girlfriend. She was smoking hot. He and his girl left as I approached, so I spoke with one of his friends and asked how he was enjoying the country. He seemed to be a bit testy, and it didn't take much prodding to find out that he was pretty jealous that his friend had a girlfriend, and he didn't.
Still, he was a nice enough guy, and when I asked him where his friend had met his girlfriend, he told me of a personals website that I hadn't used before. Apparently it was in competition to the one I was using, but I was having success enough with the hundred or so friends I had made from mine, so I didn't bother switching over.
At about that time, Eli called me up, and directed me across the street to where he had parked. I got in, and we began our trip. We stopped off at McDonald's, and I hadn't eaten there (or much else besides convenience store food) in a good while, so I ordered a pretty big meal while Eli and I exchanged some words and grammar tips for our respective languages. And finally, we were back in the car to head to the highlight of that evening: another bar.
We parked a few blocks away where we could find a spot, then walked down some really quiet streets to the massive building. The bouncer outside was extremely intimidating, not just because of his mass, but because of this "reduce you to ashes" stare he fired at everyone entering the establishment. I was glad he was there to keep order. The bar was piping in some extremely loud dance music, and the place was both brightly lit by some neon signs, and very dim at the same time. And unlike the sports bar, this place was a gathering of hundreds of bald, overweight, middle-aged foreigners looking to get some attention for the night from a couple dozen local girls. Sausage fest didn't even begin to describe it.
I wasn't interested in picking up any women, and most of the men were busy talking to one another or trying to score, so I just kind of walked around with Eli and looked at some of the paintings on the wall with him. After a while, we found a good place to stand away from the music where we could hear each other well enough. We didn't talk too much then, and just kind of stood around, nursing our drinks, until the night's entertainment kicked up. A group of local girls climbed up onto the bar, Coyote Ugly style, and started dancing and doing some light, PG stripteases. I ogled them for a while, and though they all had nice figures, I was more impressed with the courage they had to get up there and dance for everyone. When I caught any one of them looking my way, I gave her a nod and a smile for encouragement.
Eli and I hung around for a bit, clinking glasses together in cheers of appreciation for these awesome girls, then we left the bar to go home. It was a very peaceful ride that night, because it was one or two in the morning when we left. There was nobody on the roads, and the trees alongside them were cast into shadow by distant streetlights.
The peace was kind of ruined by Eli getting a call from his girlfriend, and proceeding to berate her in the local language for bothering him while he was out with a friend. I guess he thought I couldn't understand him. At that point, Eli had had his second strike, and I knew I didn't want to talk to him again. Fun times at bars or not, a bait-and-switch followed by rudeness to a lover was enough for me to consider this guy an ex-acquaintance.
Still, I kept cool and talked with him normally on the way back to my house. We took the freeway back, and I had a very nice time looking out the window to watch the city lights dimming and winking out one by one. There were almost no other cars on the road, and it felt like I owned the entire world. Eli dropped me off at a construction site just west of my house, and I gave him a friendly goodbye before exiting the car. I walked past the site, turned right into a narrow alley, then I was back home. A quick shower later, it was off to sleep after a fun trip in the city's night life.
As for today...
I woke up at 11:00.
My wife went out to go shopping.
My mother-in-law came to take my son out.
I played video games.
I surfed the net.
My wife and son came home, so I turned off the computer.
I watched TV.
I played cars with my son.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I went out to tutor a student.
I came home.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I started a load of laundry.
I played cars with my son.
I roughhoused with him.
I hung up wet laundry.
I watched internet movies with my son.
He fell asleep.
I played video games.
I slept.
Time: Mid-to-late 2007, single and at the hostel, and later at my apartment.
Eli annoyed me when I first met him.
I got in touch with him through the internet, trying to find tutor work to improve my finances. I had been tutoring maybe four or five people at the time, one or two hours a week apiece, and putting that money into a fund to pay for my eventual housing when I found a job. I had two profiles on the same website, one for making friends and the other for making students. And to be honest, I only wanted the former; I didn't want to take money from people for the pleasure of learning English from me. Besides, it seemed unfair that I was charging some people, and not others, for my time, especially when I was enjoying myself either way.
But it was a survival issue. I didn't have enough money to pay for my hostel fees for more than three weeks, and even after I supplemented my savings with tutoring, I still was only able to extend my stay there to four weeks before I was officially out of money. I wasn't afraid to sleep in a park or an alley for a month if I got a job and couldn't afford a place to live. It would only have been thirty days of homelessness before everything turned around, and I've been in the same situation before. But I was still doing everything I could to save up money so that wouldn't happen, and had every intention of dropping all of my tutor students and hanging with them as friends when my finances were back in the black.
So when I got an email from Eli saying that he was interested in becoming a temporary student, I felt a bit relieved. With the money he could provide me, I would definitely have enough money to buy food for the month that I might be homeless. It was getting late in the day and the sun was about an hour or two from setting. I was at the main station, waiting outside of a coffee shop to meet up with my new student. He arrived well on time, an older guy in his mid-to-late thirties, and we sat down to some coffee, his treat.
And after our introductions, he said it: "Is it ok if I just take you around town to some bars while we study, instead of paying you?"
I mentally balked. He promised to pay me for my time in emails, and now he's going back on his word, I thought. Nonetheless, I said it was ok, because I figured I could get a free meal from him, then never speak to him again, and find a real student to hang with in the next week. It wasn't the loss of money that bugged me: it's that this guy promised one thing, then bait-and-switched it for something else. I figured that if I couldn't take him at his word, then he had other qualities about him that might lead to trouble.
We talked as he pulled out his laptop and showed me some stuff he did at his work. I don't remember what he did, to be honest... I might have still been miffed about the bait-and-switch. After coffee, we split up so he could get his car out of a parking lot, and I went upstairs to wait for him on the street. When he pulled up, I hopped in and we were off.
Eli played tour guide very well, and pointed out department stores, parks and other sights around us as we drove. After a short trip, we ended up at a sports bar that apparently catered to foreign men. They were everywhere: shouting, laughing, drinking, talking, and just generally making the place extremely lively. Unfortunately, the TV was turned to soccer, one of those sports that I feel is a blast to play, but boring to watch. It didn't stop the foreigners in the bar from cheering loudly every hour or so when someone managed to score, though. It was a great atmosphere, and when Eli and I got to our seats, an incredibly hot local waitress came by to take our orders. Eli told me to get anything I wanted, so I ordered a couple of beers and a big basket of french fries (and he taught me the local word for the latter).
The bar was really loud, and I had to strain to hear much of what Eli had to say. And to be honest, I don't remember any of what we talked about, because I spent a lot of time people watching around the bar as we snacked and chatted. I saw one very overweight foreigner at a seat in the middle of the bar with his very overweight local girlfriend. He seemed to really be enjoying himself, but the girl's face was a mask of either extreme boredom, or subdued anger. I don't know what her problem was. Most of the other foreigners were in good shape and very well dressed. Some of them were singing songs in the corner, but most of them had their eyes glued on the TV, and screamed, groaned, cheered or cursed in unison as events unfolded in the game.
That was my first time at a sports bar, but I got used to it very quickly. I let my experiences at my bud's aunt's place in Then and Now 21, where my bud, his uncle and I watched baseball together, serve as a guide to enjoy the people around me along with the sport. Soon enough, Eli and I started having fun watching the game with everybody. His and my cheers and jeers came a little later than everyone else, because to be honest, I didn't know what the soccer teams were doing that was so amazing, but it was still fun to join in with everyone.
After about an hour, he and I got back in his car, and he took me directly back to the hostel. On the way up the elevator, I think he had proven himself, and decided to hang out with him again someday. For that night, though, it was time for a late night talk with my friends at the hostel, a shower, then bed.
We didn't talk to one another, even through email, for about a month. After a while, I figured that the sports bar would have been the last time I ever talked to him, but after I moved to my apartment, I got a call on my cell from him. We set up a time to meet again, and I went to a very busy shopping district to meet up with him. It was night, and there were tall department stores with glowing neon signs climbing up into the sky everywhere I looked. I stood on the corner of an extremely busy intersection where cars were honking, speeding, turning, U-turning, braking, picking people up and dropping others off in every direction. It was an absolute madhouse.
Standing on the corner were a few foreigners. Two of them were shorter and kind of quiet, and the last was very tall and standing there with his local girlfriend. She was smoking hot. He and his girl left as I approached, so I spoke with one of his friends and asked how he was enjoying the country. He seemed to be a bit testy, and it didn't take much prodding to find out that he was pretty jealous that his friend had a girlfriend, and he didn't.
Still, he was a nice enough guy, and when I asked him where his friend had met his girlfriend, he told me of a personals website that I hadn't used before. Apparently it was in competition to the one I was using, but I was having success enough with the hundred or so friends I had made from mine, so I didn't bother switching over.
At about that time, Eli called me up, and directed me across the street to where he had parked. I got in, and we began our trip. We stopped off at McDonald's, and I hadn't eaten there (or much else besides convenience store food) in a good while, so I ordered a pretty big meal while Eli and I exchanged some words and grammar tips for our respective languages. And finally, we were back in the car to head to the highlight of that evening: another bar.
We parked a few blocks away where we could find a spot, then walked down some really quiet streets to the massive building. The bouncer outside was extremely intimidating, not just because of his mass, but because of this "reduce you to ashes" stare he fired at everyone entering the establishment. I was glad he was there to keep order. The bar was piping in some extremely loud dance music, and the place was both brightly lit by some neon signs, and very dim at the same time. And unlike the sports bar, this place was a gathering of hundreds of bald, overweight, middle-aged foreigners looking to get some attention for the night from a couple dozen local girls. Sausage fest didn't even begin to describe it.
I wasn't interested in picking up any women, and most of the men were busy talking to one another or trying to score, so I just kind of walked around with Eli and looked at some of the paintings on the wall with him. After a while, we found a good place to stand away from the music where we could hear each other well enough. We didn't talk too much then, and just kind of stood around, nursing our drinks, until the night's entertainment kicked up. A group of local girls climbed up onto the bar, Coyote Ugly style, and started dancing and doing some light, PG stripteases. I ogled them for a while, and though they all had nice figures, I was more impressed with the courage they had to get up there and dance for everyone. When I caught any one of them looking my way, I gave her a nod and a smile for encouragement.
Eli and I hung around for a bit, clinking glasses together in cheers of appreciation for these awesome girls, then we left the bar to go home. It was a very peaceful ride that night, because it was one or two in the morning when we left. There was nobody on the roads, and the trees alongside them were cast into shadow by distant streetlights.
The peace was kind of ruined by Eli getting a call from his girlfriend, and proceeding to berate her in the local language for bothering him while he was out with a friend. I guess he thought I couldn't understand him. At that point, Eli had had his second strike, and I knew I didn't want to talk to him again. Fun times at bars or not, a bait-and-switch followed by rudeness to a lover was enough for me to consider this guy an ex-acquaintance.
Still, I kept cool and talked with him normally on the way back to my house. We took the freeway back, and I had a very nice time looking out the window to watch the city lights dimming and winking out one by one. There were almost no other cars on the road, and it felt like I owned the entire world. Eli dropped me off at a construction site just west of my house, and I gave him a friendly goodbye before exiting the car. I walked past the site, turned right into a narrow alley, then I was back home. A quick shower later, it was off to sleep after a fun trip in the city's night life.
As for today...
I woke up at 11:00.
My wife went out to go shopping.
My mother-in-law came to take my son out.
I played video games.
I surfed the net.
My wife and son came home, so I turned off the computer.
I watched TV.
I played cars with my son.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I went out to tutor a student.
I came home.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I started a load of laundry.
I played cars with my son.
I roughhoused with him.
I hung up wet laundry.
I watched internet movies with my son.
He fell asleep.
I played video games.
I slept.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Then and Now 26 - Odds and Ends 2
Then and Now 26 - Odds and Ends 2
Time: Before I got married.
I have an odd memory that starts and ends abruptly. The first thing I remember was walking down a dark street at night, and passing by a little shop that sold ice cream. The road was a wide and normally busy one, but it was so late that I was the only one there.
I walked through the peaceful night all the way up to an intriguing sight: the road forked in two directions and houses lined both sides of both roads, and above them were awnings that looked like they had just been put up. Judging from the abundant number of trash bins and the tons of closed stores all around, I figured it was some kind of outdoor shopping market, or the awnings might have indicated a wedding party had been thrown there shortly before.
In any case, I arrived there when everything was closed and nobody was around. When I walked down the streets and peeked into the stores here and there, I felt like I was exploring a ghost town that had cleared out overnight. It was not only a peaceful night for me, but a little mysterious, too.
-----
A day or two after I first arrived at the hostel, I was talking to the daughter of the owner in the local language. I wanted to get to know her better, so I invited her out to get lunch with me downstairs. She refused without hesitation, and being surrounded by foreigners who probably asked her out on a daily basis, I didn't blame her.
I assured her that I didn't have any intentions of starting a relationship, and that I just wondered if she wanted something to eat. She perked up suddenly and agreed, so we went downstairs to get two boxed lunches and bring them back to the hostel to eat. Up there, she, her friend who had come by and I talked for a while about the things I could do and the places I could visit while I was in the main city.
A bit later, I went downstairs and bought my first bottle of hair gel, specifically asking for the strongest brand they had. After I bought it, I went back upstairs and spiked my hair for the first time in my life, and I couldn't believe how handsome I looked in the mirror. I went out to the front desk to ask the owner's daughter what she thought, and she said it looked really good. Ego buffeted, I went downstairs to go walk around the city for a while, rocking my new look.
-----
For the first few weeks at my bud's aunt's place, I was still a bit overweight by maybe twenty or thirty pounds, so I decided to go on a very low calorie diet. But to make sure I didn't get sick, my bud and I went to a nutrition store so I could buy a big bottle of Centrum. I didn't know much of the local language, and my bud wanted me to learn by immersion, so I stumbled out what I could to buy the vitamins. Speaking very slowly and clearly, the workers there helped me find the best deal for the most vitamins to suit my diet. When we found a good bottle, I bought it, thanked them, then my bud and I went home.
I went back just a day or two later to say thanks for all their help, and I tried to use simple words to ask if they got a bonus if I became a member of the store, because I wanted to pay them back for their assistance. I ended up saying something like, "If I go together with your store, will your boss give you money?"
I guess I didn't say the right words, or it was too simple, because all I got were blank stares and nods that didn't mean anything. I thanked them again, and walked out of the store, red-faced but smiling, to join up with my bud. I looked back to see them all laughing nervously and waving goodbye. Foolish or not, I'm glad my poor language skills were enough to give them a story to tell about the dumb foreigner who came in and couldn't yet speak a lick of their language.
-----
One time at the underground mall near the subway station, I was walking by a couple of stores and taking in the sights. I was drawn to a few of the electronics shops, being a huge nerd and all, and was seeing what I could see of the games that the locals enjoyed and played. I'll never forget walking by the card and miniatures shop where some local guys were playing a card game: they were as scraggly and heavily overweight/underweight as the nerds I knew back in the card shops I used to go to.
But even more, I noticed the smell. Worlds away and experiencing an entirely different culture, and the funk of unwashed nerd BO was exactly the same as it was back home. That reek made me think of home, though I really wish it hadn't.
-----
As I made more and more friends on the internet from my apartment, I started getting many peoples' phone numbers and email addresses to contact them. Another thing I got were dozens of peoples' screen handles for different chat programs. I gave them all my information, then logged onto chat every few days to see who was on.
Every single time, I was suddenly bombarded with eight or ten messages from people wanting to talk with me. It was tiring talking with so many people at the same time, especially since I was making so many friends and acquaintances that I couldn't remember half of who I was talking to. I actually started avoiding going online just so I wouldn't be furiously typing stories and jokes to a dozen people more than a few days a week. But I still tried to find time to say hello to everyone online when I could, and spent at least an hour chatting every time until my hands twisted into claws from typing so fast and much. I met up with a couple of them and they became good friends during my single life, but most of them were internet-only acquaintances.
One of them, Yvonne, was an eighteen year old local girl, fresh in college, and super cute. We talked online several times a week about the experiences of foreigners in this country, and whether or not she would date one. I cracked a joke that she shouldn't, because most of the foreigners here were fat, old, bald and smelled like cheese. She was on video cam for that chat, and I saw her laughing uproariously.
We also talked quite a bit about sex: sex before marriage, her period, dating foreigners, all kinds of topics. I probably would have pursued something more with her if I didn't start dating my wife a month or two after I moved to my apartment.
As for today...
I woke up at 9:00.
I played cars with my son.
I roughhoused with him.
My wife woke up.
I talked with her.
I ate lunch.
I took my son to the arcade, then we went home.
I watched TV.
I played cars with my son.
He and my wife took a nap.
I played video games.
My wife and son woke up, so I turned off the computer.
She went to work.
I played cars with my son.
I played video games.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I came home.
I ate dinner.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I folded and put away a mountain of dry clothes.
I did the dishes.
I slept.
Time: Before I got married.
I have an odd memory that starts and ends abruptly. The first thing I remember was walking down a dark street at night, and passing by a little shop that sold ice cream. The road was a wide and normally busy one, but it was so late that I was the only one there.
I walked through the peaceful night all the way up to an intriguing sight: the road forked in two directions and houses lined both sides of both roads, and above them were awnings that looked like they had just been put up. Judging from the abundant number of trash bins and the tons of closed stores all around, I figured it was some kind of outdoor shopping market, or the awnings might have indicated a wedding party had been thrown there shortly before.
In any case, I arrived there when everything was closed and nobody was around. When I walked down the streets and peeked into the stores here and there, I felt like I was exploring a ghost town that had cleared out overnight. It was not only a peaceful night for me, but a little mysterious, too.
-----
A day or two after I first arrived at the hostel, I was talking to the daughter of the owner in the local language. I wanted to get to know her better, so I invited her out to get lunch with me downstairs. She refused without hesitation, and being surrounded by foreigners who probably asked her out on a daily basis, I didn't blame her.
I assured her that I didn't have any intentions of starting a relationship, and that I just wondered if she wanted something to eat. She perked up suddenly and agreed, so we went downstairs to get two boxed lunches and bring them back to the hostel to eat. Up there, she, her friend who had come by and I talked for a while about the things I could do and the places I could visit while I was in the main city.
A bit later, I went downstairs and bought my first bottle of hair gel, specifically asking for the strongest brand they had. After I bought it, I went back upstairs and spiked my hair for the first time in my life, and I couldn't believe how handsome I looked in the mirror. I went out to the front desk to ask the owner's daughter what she thought, and she said it looked really good. Ego buffeted, I went downstairs to go walk around the city for a while, rocking my new look.
-----
For the first few weeks at my bud's aunt's place, I was still a bit overweight by maybe twenty or thirty pounds, so I decided to go on a very low calorie diet. But to make sure I didn't get sick, my bud and I went to a nutrition store so I could buy a big bottle of Centrum. I didn't know much of the local language, and my bud wanted me to learn by immersion, so I stumbled out what I could to buy the vitamins. Speaking very slowly and clearly, the workers there helped me find the best deal for the most vitamins to suit my diet. When we found a good bottle, I bought it, thanked them, then my bud and I went home.
I went back just a day or two later to say thanks for all their help, and I tried to use simple words to ask if they got a bonus if I became a member of the store, because I wanted to pay them back for their assistance. I ended up saying something like, "If I go together with your store, will your boss give you money?"
I guess I didn't say the right words, or it was too simple, because all I got were blank stares and nods that didn't mean anything. I thanked them again, and walked out of the store, red-faced but smiling, to join up with my bud. I looked back to see them all laughing nervously and waving goodbye. Foolish or not, I'm glad my poor language skills were enough to give them a story to tell about the dumb foreigner who came in and couldn't yet speak a lick of their language.
-----
One time at the underground mall near the subway station, I was walking by a couple of stores and taking in the sights. I was drawn to a few of the electronics shops, being a huge nerd and all, and was seeing what I could see of the games that the locals enjoyed and played. I'll never forget walking by the card and miniatures shop where some local guys were playing a card game: they were as scraggly and heavily overweight/underweight as the nerds I knew back in the card shops I used to go to.
But even more, I noticed the smell. Worlds away and experiencing an entirely different culture, and the funk of unwashed nerd BO was exactly the same as it was back home. That reek made me think of home, though I really wish it hadn't.
-----
As I made more and more friends on the internet from my apartment, I started getting many peoples' phone numbers and email addresses to contact them. Another thing I got were dozens of peoples' screen handles for different chat programs. I gave them all my information, then logged onto chat every few days to see who was on.
Every single time, I was suddenly bombarded with eight or ten messages from people wanting to talk with me. It was tiring talking with so many people at the same time, especially since I was making so many friends and acquaintances that I couldn't remember half of who I was talking to. I actually started avoiding going online just so I wouldn't be furiously typing stories and jokes to a dozen people more than a few days a week. But I still tried to find time to say hello to everyone online when I could, and spent at least an hour chatting every time until my hands twisted into claws from typing so fast and much. I met up with a couple of them and they became good friends during my single life, but most of them were internet-only acquaintances.
One of them, Yvonne, was an eighteen year old local girl, fresh in college, and super cute. We talked online several times a week about the experiences of foreigners in this country, and whether or not she would date one. I cracked a joke that she shouldn't, because most of the foreigners here were fat, old, bald and smelled like cheese. She was on video cam for that chat, and I saw her laughing uproariously.
We also talked quite a bit about sex: sex before marriage, her period, dating foreigners, all kinds of topics. I probably would have pursued something more with her if I didn't start dating my wife a month or two after I moved to my apartment.
As for today...
I woke up at 9:00.
I played cars with my son.
I roughhoused with him.
My wife woke up.
I talked with her.
I ate lunch.
I took my son to the arcade, then we went home.
I watched TV.
I played cars with my son.
He and my wife took a nap.
I played video games.
My wife and son woke up, so I turned off the computer.
She went to work.
I played cars with my son.
I played video games.
I went to work.
I taught students.
I came home.
I ate dinner.
I cleaned up the floor and table.
I folded and put away a mountain of dry clothes.
I did the dishes.
I slept.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Then and Now 25 - Typical Day
Then and Now 25 - Typical Day
Time: Late 2007, dating my wife.
For the sake of this Then and Now, I'm going to refer to my wife as my girlfriend.
Before we got married, my girlfriend and I had a great relationship. I'll detail how we got together in another Then and Now, and focus on how we usually spent our time together in this one.
I had two and a half days off during my time working at my school: Sunday and Tuesday were completely off, and every hour after 12:00 on Saturday was also completely free. My girlfriend and I usually got together on Saturday night after I had some time to adventure and hang with friends in the afternoon, and we stayed together until Sunday night when work was about to begin again for the both of us. Because we hardly ever spent any time on Tuesday, which was the day I usually stayed at home all day (or sometimes went to the city to look around), our typical day was Sunday.
She would usually come to my house around 8:00 or 9:00 on Saturday night, and I would go downstairs to open the security door to let her in. We would talk and joke around for our little trip upstairs, then after we got inside and she had taken a shower, we had about an hour or so for sex. After that, we would either sleep until early Sunday morning, or we would spend a little time watching TV or talking before finally drifting off.
I remember her doing this little quiz where she kept asking me to repeat her full name in the middle of the night. It was a joke that we shared to pretend that I was some kind of playboy who didn't remember the names of the hundreds of women he had slept with. One night, while especially tired, she asked me for the fifth or sixth time. I teasingly mumbled, "Could you just let me sleep?" She giggled, squeezed me tight, and we were off to dreamland.
When we weren't heading outside to look around, window shop, explore the main city or just take a walk, we usually had sex again in the morning, then napped until noon or so. After that, it was just the two of us spending time together. We had all kinds of activities planned and ready to go and I have a few Then and Now posts planned for later on some stuff we did outside the apartment, but inside my place, it was a very relaxing time. I think it might do to just have a couple of experiences written down here to give a taste of our good times together.
I remember us watching DVDs together, and me sharing some of my favorite shows from America: Sliders, Stargate SG-1, our mutual favorite Alf, and several others. I would always go downstairs to the supermarket to get us some popcorn and a few other goodies, just to make the movie experience complete. She was always very attentive and interested in everything we watched, and even had a dream or two of sliding or exploring other worlds while at my place.
There was another time where we were done with sex and DVDs for the day, and she insisted that I just go ahead and do what I usually did at my house, and not to worry about her. So I did: I took out my laptop, and started playing Jedi Academy. She didn't even pull out a book or turn on the TV, and instead watched me play, something she hasn't done since we married. I still remember starting the game and playing through the tutorial stage after the ship crash, pulling out my lightsaber and cutting down a tree to cross a river. When I got to the other side, I started cutting up a rock. She laughed and asked me why I was doing that, and I just answered, "I dunno. I just felt like it." She laughed again, like it was the funniest or silliest thing she had ever seen.
I also remember another time with a strange problem: every time my girl came over to see me on the weekend, she would immediately pull out my mop and broom and start cleaning the floor, even though it already looked fine. It kind of annoyed me and I asked her to stop and just come to bed to be with me, and not only did she listen to me, but she needlessly wrote me an apology letter later about not doing it again, even writing "Go to hell, mop!" Comparing my girlfriend to my wife today, who expects me to do almost all the cleaning, is as clear as night and day.
If there is any confusion as to why there are so few Then and Now posts related to my time while dating my girl, then the reason here is plain: we spent many weekends together doing basically the same fun stuff, and writing a separate Then and Now for each of them would be pointless and boring. This Then and Now, while only number 25, describes one or two dozen days of peace, fun, sex and good times between my girlfriend and me.
I haven't seen that girl in years.
Time: Late 2007, dating my wife.
For the sake of this Then and Now, I'm going to refer to my wife as my girlfriend.
Before we got married, my girlfriend and I had a great relationship. I'll detail how we got together in another Then and Now, and focus on how we usually spent our time together in this one.
I had two and a half days off during my time working at my school: Sunday and Tuesday were completely off, and every hour after 12:00 on Saturday was also completely free. My girlfriend and I usually got together on Saturday night after I had some time to adventure and hang with friends in the afternoon, and we stayed together until Sunday night when work was about to begin again for the both of us. Because we hardly ever spent any time on Tuesday, which was the day I usually stayed at home all day (or sometimes went to the city to look around), our typical day was Sunday.
She would usually come to my house around 8:00 or 9:00 on Saturday night, and I would go downstairs to open the security door to let her in. We would talk and joke around for our little trip upstairs, then after we got inside and she had taken a shower, we had about an hour or so for sex. After that, we would either sleep until early Sunday morning, or we would spend a little time watching TV or talking before finally drifting off.
I remember her doing this little quiz where she kept asking me to repeat her full name in the middle of the night. It was a joke that we shared to pretend that I was some kind of playboy who didn't remember the names of the hundreds of women he had slept with. One night, while especially tired, she asked me for the fifth or sixth time. I teasingly mumbled, "Could you just let me sleep?" She giggled, squeezed me tight, and we were off to dreamland.
When we weren't heading outside to look around, window shop, explore the main city or just take a walk, we usually had sex again in the morning, then napped until noon or so. After that, it was just the two of us spending time together. We had all kinds of activities planned and ready to go and I have a few Then and Now posts planned for later on some stuff we did outside the apartment, but inside my place, it was a very relaxing time. I think it might do to just have a couple of experiences written down here to give a taste of our good times together.
I remember us watching DVDs together, and me sharing some of my favorite shows from America: Sliders, Stargate SG-1, our mutual favorite Alf, and several others. I would always go downstairs to the supermarket to get us some popcorn and a few other goodies, just to make the movie experience complete. She was always very attentive and interested in everything we watched, and even had a dream or two of sliding or exploring other worlds while at my place.
There was another time where we were done with sex and DVDs for the day, and she insisted that I just go ahead and do what I usually did at my house, and not to worry about her. So I did: I took out my laptop, and started playing Jedi Academy. She didn't even pull out a book or turn on the TV, and instead watched me play, something she hasn't done since we married. I still remember starting the game and playing through the tutorial stage after the ship crash, pulling out my lightsaber and cutting down a tree to cross a river. When I got to the other side, I started cutting up a rock. She laughed and asked me why I was doing that, and I just answered, "I dunno. I just felt like it." She laughed again, like it was the funniest or silliest thing she had ever seen.
I also remember another time with a strange problem: every time my girl came over to see me on the weekend, she would immediately pull out my mop and broom and start cleaning the floor, even though it already looked fine. It kind of annoyed me and I asked her to stop and just come to bed to be with me, and not only did she listen to me, but she needlessly wrote me an apology letter later about not doing it again, even writing "Go to hell, mop!" Comparing my girlfriend to my wife today, who expects me to do almost all the cleaning, is as clear as night and day.
If there is any confusion as to why there are so few Then and Now posts related to my time while dating my girl, then the reason here is plain: we spent many weekends together doing basically the same fun stuff, and writing a separate Then and Now for each of them would be pointless and boring. This Then and Now, while only number 25, describes one or two dozen days of peace, fun, sex and good times between my girlfriend and me.
I haven't seen that girl in years.
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