- Durand and his Lucky Charm
Matt put something in my hand.“What the fuck is this?” I said.“We found it in the back of the car. I think it’s your mans.”So let me back up to how it all started. Last winter I was having a streak of awesome things happening including my first date with Durand. He was smart, funny, good on paper, and best of all no red flags. On the second date, Durand attended a housewarming party with me and my two friends Kyle and Matt. Everyone was having fun, or at least from what I could remember. Because that night I had a little too many cocktails and woke up the next morning remembering only fragments of the night. That morning I met up with Kyle and Matt for brunch.“So,” I said, “did you guys have fun with Durand last night?”Nobody responded right away. Kyle looked down at his food, Matt looked around the room. Then the awkward silence then broke into hysterical laughter.“Well where do I even start?” Kyle said. “I don’t even know if I should feel offended or just uncomfortable.”“What?”“How can I put this,” said Kyle. “Your friend talks in race. He said things like, ‘my BLACK friends who play basketball,’ ‘my ASIAN friends eat sushi,’ or ‘my bosses, are GAY btw,’ like it had no signifigance to anything. He just said it to say it.”“Okay…”“That’s not the worst of it,” Matt added.“There’s worse?”“He surveyed everyone at the party to see if they liked still water or sparkling water.”“What?”“Yeah,” Matt said. “It was weird. I thought he was kidding. But I guess he’s takes sparkling water really seriously.”“Wow, that is weird.” I said.“That’s not the worst of it,” Matt added.“Seriously?”And this is when Matt told me to close my eyes and open up my hand. When I opened them I found the strangest thing–a diamond studded dragon keychain.“What the fuck is this?” I said.“We found it in the back of the car. I think it’s your mans.”“Is this a joke?”“No dude,” Kyle said. “I was cleaning out the back seat and found it. And you know I would never own something shitty looking like this. So we asked Sarah what it was and she said it was a charm that’s traded in Dungeons and Dragons.”“Wow…so he’s?”“Yes. Your friend is a serious gamer.”“So have you seen his apartment? Maybe this dragon is the key to his secret lair where he plays with his other guild members.”“Do you think he fantasizes about you in a princess outfit?”“Disgusting.”After that I did not talk to Durand. We just didn’t have a lot in common. But I never returned the dragon charm. I figured he needed one less ASIAN in his life and I needed better luck finding men.
- Mike and the Crazy Eye Theory
Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but I think I have bad luck dating guys named Mike. The Mike in first grade use to pull on my pigtails in class. The Mike in high school liked me but then started liking someone else. And the Mike in college told me “I think I’m…bi.” (I know). One would think based on my track record that I would have said “no” to dating the Mike in post grad school. But I kinda didn’t. Because this Mike was in an indie rock band and was hot. And good looking guys who play good music tend to throw me off my game, even when they have the crazy eyes.The crazy eyes theory was first introduced on the TV show “How I Met Your Mother” when Marshall falls for a girl with crazy eyes. Two friends give him examples of their crazy-eyed experiences. Barney’s crazy-eyed date wanted a threesome with a teddy bear; Ted’s crazy-eyed date pulled a “Jack Nickelson” on a car windshield. Before I met Mike I didn’t know about the crazy eye theory, so I was oblivious to all of the tall-tale signs of craziness.1. Mike made a half kidding joke about marriage.“You like the Strokes? I like the Strokes! We should totally get married haha”2. Mike made the crazy, way too soon relocation suggestion.“Some of the best agencies are in LA, right? You should totally move out here!”3. Mike got way too emotional, way too soon.“My Dad died last year. Sometimes he visits me in his dreams.”One night I invited Mike to a party and was suppose to pick him up at 9:00 pm. Three hours go by, and no word from Mike. Close to midnight I get a text from him.“Hey I just got home. Do you still want to hang out?”So Kyle and I hop in the car and get to Mike’s and wait.“Where the fuck is your friend?” asked Kyle. ”Go knock on his door, if he doesn’t answer we are leaving.”I got out of the car and rang the doorbell. Nothing. As I start to walk away the door opens and Mike comes out in tears.“I’m wasted, I’m high, and I miss my Dad.” (I guess it was obvious what he was doing the last three hours). “Hold me,” he said. And I did, but desperately wanted to run away.“Hey Mike,” I said. “If you don’t want to come out with us, we totally understand.”“I want to go,” he said. “Let me get my things. Can you come inside?”So I go inside and Mike says, “Mom are you decent?”Mike’s Mom comes into the main room in a silk robe. I never imagined that meeting the parents would be in a negligée and in tears.“Anyway Mike, if you don’t want to come out with us tonight, you don’t have to,” I said again.“Mike, honey, you should totally go out,” said Mike’s Mom.(Oh no she did not just pawn her son on me)So Mike, Kyle and I head back to the party. And as we are about to get into the car, Mike shoots us both this weird look. It was the crazy eyes. And suddenly Mike went from sweet to insane. He pulls out a hash pipe from his jacket pocket.“You guys want a hit?” he said.“Uhhh no dude,” Kyle said. “I’m cool.”Mike lights up. “So what kind of party is this anyway? Did you say that the hosts were Jews? I love the Jews!”(lovely)We get to the party and I make the introductions.“Everyone,” I said. “This is…”Mike drunkenly falls on top of the table.“…Mike.”The rest of the night Kyle and I kept an eye on Mike to make sure he didn’t fuck it up. Unfortunately that didn’t last too long. Because 10 minutes in he had already insulted several of the guests and got kicked out of the party. I told Mike to never call me again. But he did–26 times.“Dude I don’t know what you do, but you sure know how to bring out the crazy out of people.”“Word.”Since then I’ve never talked to another Mike. No offense. But one crazy-eyed Mike was enough crazy to avoid them all.
- Love and be Loved
“Congratulations on your engagement!” This is a phrase I’ve never really had to say before. But as of late, two of my good friends got engaged. Another (I predict) soon to be. “I’m engaged,” writes Zack. “Thank you for being a part of our lives for the past five years.” I smiled on the other side of the computer. Amongst all the clutter posted online, it was a nice thing to find.
When I read things like this, I feel an overwhelming sense of happiness. Because what they have is not like a lot of relationships I see. It’s not this fake, I need to settle type of relationship. It’s not this cookie cutter of a romantic comedy type relationship either. What they have is real love. And that’s something else beyond everything else. Because it’s real.
So cheers to my friends and cheers to love. If there’s anything your relationships have taught me over the years, it’s that happiness is only real when its shared.
- Just Like You (Part I)
PRESENT:
“So how did we get here?” she asked.I had no idea how to answer that question. The question was so simple, but I didn’t have the right answer. I sat uncomfortably across from Dr. Allen in a cushioned sofa while she rested in her chair. The walls were painted periwinkle, the furniture was minimal, I never thought a therapist’s office would be so comfortable. Dr. Allen called her office “a sanctuary.” But I conspicuously wondered where she kept her obligatory couch I’d lie down on and spill my guts while she’d silently judge me. This did not feel like that kind of place.
“I’m not really sure if I’m suppose to be here.”
Dr. Allen smiled. “First of all Alex, you came here for a reason. And I’m here to help you figure things out.”
She was right. I did come here for a reason. I breathed deeply and responded.
“Well, I’m angry.”
“Okay she said. “Tell me how it started.”
PART I.
It started over forty years ago in a quiet suburban neighborhood in a small, four bedroom home. A family was just waking up to start their day. It started just like every other day—the Mother was cooking breakfast in the kitchen, the kids were in bed sleeping past the alarm and the Father was in the bathroom getting ready for work. But unlike the usual routine morning, that day was different. Because that morning the Father never finished getting ready. He had a heart attack and fell to the floor. The thump to the tile woke the kids as they ran into the bathroom. The Mother followed closely behind. As the family kneeled beside him, everything grew quiet. They heard their neighbor’s cars slowly pull out of the driveway. They heard the faint laughter of a baby’s voice outside. The air was thin and everything started to move slowly. One of the sons picked his Father up and held him in his arms like a child. Moments started to feel like a lifetime. And before the ambulance came to the home, the Father had died. Those routine mornings were never the same again.
- Just Like You (Part II)
PART II:
Asian culture tells us to never show emotion because it’s a sign of weakness. So when my Father lost his father he never cried. And he never cried even after I was born. Growing up I knew bits and pieces about my Grandfather. What he did for our Temple. What he did for our community. My Father was always a story teller, but when it came to sharing anything on a deeper level, he self-edited.Little did I know at the time that you can only do that for so long. Because the more you internalize what you feel, the worse off you’ll be. And that’s what happened to my Father. When he held back, it brought out the worse in him. Some days he was there, other days he’d be nothing but a shadowy figure in my life. A cough in the office. A silhouette from the hallway. A silent figure working in the dark. When I’d try to hold his hand, it did not feel like the organic hand holding that makes people feel secure. My Father was intolerant to touch. Some nights my Father would come home from work and he’d unleash. And when I saw him unfurl I would hide in the bathroom. He was transforming into something I did not know.
The night my Father won a regional award for Optometry everything changed. It was being aired on television. It was his proudest moment. And I was caught on camera with my back slounched. My Dad was angry. He grabbed my firmly by the arm.
“Get in the car,” he said. I could feel the anger in his voice.
We drove in silence all the way home. When we got to our home, my Father said, “Gather everything you love from your room and put it outside,” he said. “I’m going to burn it.”
I thought he was kidding, but he wasn’t. So I went into my room. I slowly grabbed my books, my CDs, my sheet music from the piano, my guitar and I threw them in a pit. I watched everything that meant something to me slowly burn. I listened and heard nothing except the thready pulse of the night.
That’s when I became like my Father. Because when people ask me about my childhood, I’ve learned to self-edit.
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