Monday, October 28, 2019

Drunk Walk Home


[From Francis]


Last night was crazy. Yes, we had sexual contact. I know it was only two hours since I met you. But I believed everything you said was true. I didn’t want to have sex with you. You had my trust. 

I was helping film a scene for my friend’s movie. That’s it. After that, I would go home and go to bed by 1am. You came and just commented on the set. I thought of you as a stranger. But it was the right choice for Al to stop you and ask a few questions. I’m glad you stood around. My first impression was that you were goofy and didn’t know what you were doing. Maybe you were drunk. But I was wrong... you were drunk. But you wanted to talk about your film and I liked it. Walking and talking with you felt so new. It felt strange, like i didn’t know you. I felt embarrassed like you wouldn’t understand what an art film is. But you already knew. 

I couldn’t believe it was happening. I am talking to a decent looking stranger that I would never dare to hit on. I can’t approach girls. I’m a nerd. 

We sat down at Rebecca’s and I ordered two drinks for us. My friend Al said “I was his mentor.” That was such a nice thing to say. I never knew that. He left and gave us space. We entered the bar around 11:55, but didn’t leave until 3am. 

You have an interesting yet dysfunctional family. I am impressed you enjoy Larry Clark films. As cliche as it sounds, it’s one point to understand that innocence does exist. You were yelling in my ear like i couldn’t hear, but I could tell you just wanted to get closer. But I stood away. Did you really mean what you were doing?

We had a talk about music. Yes, we both have a selfie with Jamie Stewart of Xiu Xiu. But I did two podcasts with him. Not to sound cooler than you, but just to relate. He’s a cool guy. Mitski, Japanese Breakfast. Beach House, yes they are all cool acts. And you got me when you said you had Atari Teenage Riot on LP hanging in your living room. No one has that. That’s too hard to believe you are into that. I’m impressed. 

You said I was “sexy” for being a novelist. I hope you don’t mind me being transgressive and that each book sold only 100 copies each. But I’m on a google search, just like you are. 

So my first book was about a failed relationship with a Chinese girl who made me obsessive and deranged. And then you said your first book was on a white skater boy who drove you crazy. It’s like a parallel universe. I could tell you that you remind me of someone I grew up with, or that I like Asian women too much. And you said I have to watch it with my book, but ultimately it’s daring and transgressive. You were excited that I like that type of girl. 

I remember we moved to the sofa and you put my arm around me. And you talked about your life at SVA, your day job, and the art you make. I gave some advice. I wanted to talk intellectual, but you pushed it to something different. You wanted something out of me. But I wanted something else. You told me about your favorite animal (rabbit) and favorite color (orange). And my favorite color was also orange (I said it first), but I liked seals. Very mundane stuff. I think you got turnt on by orange. 

You told me I was handsome, and you were confused why I was single. I told you I was a nerd. You said you were a nerd too (I believe it now, why are you going out alone?). I felt butterflies in my stomach, like reliving a high school memory. You are smaller than me and look socially awkward. I believe you. 

I don’t want to retell every point we talked about in two hours. But when you talked about your personal life, or your feelings, I just felt I had to hug you. And you asked me "are you single?” And the next thing happened, we were kissing. I felt you. I grabbed your cheek. And I told you, "I love your cheeks." I remember you dug you’re fingernails into my back, and it hurt. And I grabbed your little hand. We tongued, made out, and it felt like forever. I grabbed your ass, you’re tit, and, yes, I fingered you. I was on you. And we were having sex with our clothes on. Humping, yes. I bit your neck. I was going into you while it was in my pants, pushing into you.

We moved to the bathroom. And things happened there. 

I knew you were something special. I believe you. I walked you home. I didn’t want to go inside your house. You won my trust. Never did I want to date rape you. You were not an object. You kept asking me for my phone number and instagram. I gave you my phone and you typed them in. I was excited. Someone new, and someone who was pretty and intellectual. You are my type. Cute, small, Asian, artistic, eccentric, nostalgic for the past. We kissed for so long before you walked into your door. I commented “nice bike!” But that was your friends bike. 

I was on the train home excited, yelling to myself “what just happened?” I had a girlfriend and I was thrilled. No longer would I have to go on Tinder or ask random people if they are interested. Or put on a mask during a date. My perfect date happened in 4 hours. I was at the right place in the right time. That is all I ever wanted living in a city. To belong, to have a place, and to have someone to be loyal too. No longer would I suffer with my trauma of being alone or being too eccentric. You begged for the next date to be on Monday or Halloween. I was happy. You liked sushi, so I guess we are going to get sushi. 

I didn’t see as a tool to have sex with. No. Even if I did use you, I would regret not seeing you again. Some people would call me a “cuck” for not sleeping with you. But I saw more in you. You won my trust. Let’s have sex on the second date, or the third. I have standards. And I believe you have standards too. 

Maybe I’m a loser that I didn’t fuck you. Or even make an excuse to say “can I use your bathroom?” just so I can get outside your place. That wasn’t on my mind. I believed you. 

I couldn’t go to sleep. I prayed to god (which I never do) thinking we would become a couple. I got 4 hours of sleep. It rained that morning.

I sent you a good morning text. 

I’m a nerd Maggie. I’m not a pump and dump “chad” of any sorts. You are an amazing person and I am looking forward seeing you soon. 


[From Maggie]


Or is it Joe? Which one do you like? (Can you tell me more about why you don’t like Joe, it’s kind of cute).

Last night was fun. I told you long-term for me was scary, but I am up for it. I prefer short-term because it’s more ambiguous. Dating terms like that mix up the way we think about things. 

Don’t worry about what happened last night. I loved it. 

You are a wonderful guy. I am surprised you are into the arts. Most people don’t know half the stuff you are talking about. 

Did you google search me? What do you think about my film? 

I watched your YouTube. You are so funny. Also offensive. So why did your first channel get deleted? I want to watch more!

And your book, can you send me a PDF? I read it and you are talking about an ex? (A Chinese ex for that matter, wow!, you are so weird). 

But tell me, do you hate your exes? Why would a guy like you be with me? Why not be with someone who has tits? I really don’t have any of that. I’m not cool at all. I never leave my house, I never kissed a guy in 7 months (let alone suck a dick), and you like me. I like you a lot too. 

I have a lot of quirks you may be afraid of. I’m not so sure if you will still like me. I do drugs sometimes, but that’s because I been abused. 

Can we meet at Momoya at 7pm? I just busy this morning. I have to do some screen prints. I understand you are busy too. 

We can talk on the phone later tonight if you can’t make it. 

Also, I have a Halloween party with the students. You are welcomed to come by. You can meet some of my friends. They would love to hear your blogging work on… “Asian Aryanism?” Why the fuck are you so offensive? lol. 

I thought about graduate school. It’s cool you can afford it. You make me jealous. That would be great if you could teach too. You could settle here. 

I can give you a tour of Brooklyn. I’m surprise you only been here for 3 months. 

If you need a place to stay, my place is right next to Rebecca’s. My studio is a mess. I would love to show you some time. Next week? 

I really don’t go out for concerts. But if you are taking me, let’s go. I’ll only go to Anna Akana because of the name alone. Maybe Dead Can Dance. 

No, I don’t know who is Alain Badiou. 

I never go to Ludlow or Essex. If I was to visit your dorm, I would feel like a little kid. But I like that too. 

Also, what are you doing Thanksgiving? Maybe we can do something. Just hang out? I will be alone. We could go somewhere. 

And please, tell me about the film project with Al. I would love to act in it if you have a scene for me. I love film. 

I thought about you last night too. You should of slept over. I feel great about myself. You are different from everyone else. I really like you. 

Don’t know what else to say. I’ll see you this Monday!