Sometimes, my sarcastic humour is so dry and subtle that people who don’t know me very well think I’m being serious. I try to say things that are so ridiculous they can only be taken as a joke, but it doesn’t always work. Example:
Yesterday, Jairus made pulled pork sandwiches (took him 8 hours!) that smelled soooo good they made me hungry, even though I had just eaten a huge dinner. As we were watching A Jihad For Love (about the coexistence of homosexuality and Islam), Jesse said, “Too bad these Muslims wouldn’t be able to enjoy this delicious pulled pork sandwich”. I said, “Oh, cause it’s pulled”, in a tone like I had just realized something, but what I thought was a joking manner. Everyone turned their heads at me, Ian said, “Cause it’s pork, yeah”, and he lingered on that yeah really slowly, like he was embarrassed for me, then everyone turned back to the TV. I’m pretty sure they all think I’m an idiot now, and that I thought Muslims have something against animals when they’re slow-cooked in vinegar sauce.
Secrets aren’t so bad
We’re too young to feel safe
I don’t deserve all this now
Don’t want to feel I’ve made mistakes
I want to tell you everything
I want to tell you everything
But if I tell you everything
What we can build won’t mean a thing
—Secret’s Aren’t So Bad, Magneta Lane
There’s this thing, this sexual thing I like. I mean really like. It’s not exactly deviant, but certainly something that some girls may find gross or unappealing.
Even though it’s such a big deal to me, I never told any of my girlfriends about it. Only one of them liked it, and even she didn’t know how important it was to me, because it was something she wanted from me.
I know most of my girlfriends would have probably indulged me (at least once in a while) if I told them, but I never did. Not because it’s embarrassing, but because I never wanted any of them to feel obliged or pressured into doing it. I always think that one day, I’ll tell the right person because she’ll ask me what I like, and she’ll do it for me because she loves me. None of them have, yet, maybe because it’s never gotten boring in the bedroom.
So for now, it remains this little secret I keep, because secrets aren’t so bad. They can be little gems that bring people closer together. So why reveal them all so soon?
It’s hard for me to hang out with people with same bad habits as I have (or have had).
- analyzing or thinking too much
- being judgmental
- getting emotionally involved in arguments/discussions
- putting value in material things
- being impatient
- getting too competitive
I always try to improve and refuse to accept these things in myself, so it’s hard for me to accept them in others. I’m also afraid that spending too much time with them would make me complacent, as I’d start to believe that these things are acceptable because other people are okay with it.
That’s why I surround myself with people who are better than me.
She bought me these boxer briefs. Calvin Klein, body cut, lightweight cotton construction.
Until then, all the underwear I had were plaid XS boxers from The Gap that I could only find online, or XXL from Gap Kids, decorated with rockets, and basketballs, and skiers. I didn’t think she’d find anything else that would work on my small frame.
So this is my first pair of boxer briefs, and they fit. My sexy underwear, she would call them. I guess it’s hard to find my other underwear sexy when it’s meant for those 7–14.
When I tell the taxi drivers here the name of the street I want to go to (pronounced from memory because the names are too complicated to understand), they don’t always know how to get there. That’s why I always have the name of a popular landmark in close proximity memorized, and when I mention this, it usually gets me where I want to go. Sometimes I get a part-time cabbie though, who doesn’t even know where this landmark is. That’s when they ask me how to get there, or what else is around, or if it’s close to such-and-such-a-place adjacent to such-and-such-a-street. Somehow, they assume that I’m a local.
Which is odd, because I know I have an English accent when I speak Chinese, so I assume most people can tell I’m not from around here. When I was here five years ago, most people said they knew I wasn’t from Hong Kong before I even opened my mouth. Something about the way I looked or dressed or acted.
Guess I’m fooling someone now.