His smile sent chills up my spine, and the giggles that followed were IT.
That was the deal breaker. He could put on a few pounds from the super slim pics he posted in his Bumble years ago, and that was fine. But, that laugh, it was a killer. A girlish giggle from a guy, which you could equate to a girl snorting each time she spoke.
“Was it really that bad?” A Chinese guy I was chatting with said. “Couldn’t you cover his mouth and do it?”
“Dude. Do I look desperate to you?” I replied. “Would you do a girl who snorted?”
“If she is hot, I would," he said. “Do it fast and go.”
“Why? Because her mouth will be full of you?” I smirked.
“Yeah. Of course," he grinned.
I guess that was where I drew the line, and perhaps that is what makes women from Venus and men from Mars. A year plus later, even with my sex addiction, and my open honest chats, I was still different from a guy.
“Would you fuck any girl?” I asked H a long time back when we began our yolo journey.
“No, of course not. I have standards," he said. “Unless she is really pretty…”
Yes, that was the caveat. I was lying to think I wouldn’t do that, too. It wasn’t like I didn’t have pity sex or fell into bed with a guy I would not usually fuck. All because I was lonely and wanted to be wanted. Besides, hot praises were strong enough to make me do him.
And what about those gorgeous guys with jerky personalities?
Yes, I had my share of meeting guys like that. The man-boy who wanted sex right now, or he would throw a fit, and jerks who drove through my room and left the moment they cummed.
Why did I let them treat me as a hole to fuck? Was my loneliness so severe that I needed to add them to my body count?
I didn't use to care about the body count. So obsessed with getting my prey, I was eye on my prize. But, unlike those fuck bois, I wanted more, a sorta relationship after, keeping in contact and being friends.
Friends with benefits
“They don’t exist in Korea,” said my Korean FWB. Yes, he is the real deal, a really good friend who would go the extra mile to help me if he could. He is single, and if he wanted to, I was sure he could find a woman and settle down.
“I don’t want to get married," he said. “I’m happy this way.” He preferred to hang out with his friends, play sports, and occasionally with stranger women or a female friend, and if the vibe was right, have sex and fun through the night.
“My friends don’t understand when I tell them I don’t want to be in a relationship,” said another guy. “I prefer the Western way. To be friends and have sex, and not in a relationship.”
Yes, exactly. Why did we have to pin ourselves down to that one person? Until you are ready and certain this is the person you were willing to start a family with, it is best to keep things loose.
Together, till death do us part. H and I had it good right now. We were both together as a family and yet also apart as singles.
“You made your bed,” H said to my current giggling situation. Yes, I did choose to meet him, but when a crisis came, I wanted to be the princess and have H rescuing me from this Cheshire fiasco.
“Deal with it," he added as if I hadn’t already caught the first part. I knew he would say that. I wasn’t a child. I knew what I was getting myself into. This murky depths of a weird guy with his over-the-top lovey-dovey confessions of love and endless — i miss yous. Red flags flying.
At first, I told Cheshire it ain’t happening. I wasn’t going to meet him in June when I got there. I waited a year to meet many men on my roster and had limited days and time. Priorities were given to the ones who would become my FWBs and whom I had tried and tested through vid chatting and sexting.
If those months before the days of the meetings in Seoul, I knew the power of computer filtering and camera angles; I would have been doubly careful.
I shouldn’t be critical because there were many instances when it could have been worse. For a year of on-again and off-again contact, I should have some form of affection for this online stranger/somewhat friend. But I didn’t. I was lured by a day of dates and the idea of being able to tour the city and eat good food.
But like all the guys I’d spoken to, they only wanted sex. There wasn’t an intention to let this cougar out. Trapped again in the hotel room, servicing the needs of horny guys. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy good sex, but this wasn’t the only thing I liked.
“Are you meeting me in front of Coex hotel?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m so exciting," he replied sharing a happy emoticon.
We have been planning this for months. Till then, I didn’t know enough about him. He said he is a music producer and works with London to make music. Turns out everything was a lie, just as how he looked.
“Can I call a taxi when I arrive at your hotel? We go immediately to Myeongdong?" he asked.
“Okay, sure,” I replied. “How long will you take? I’m wearing a black dress with a hat.”
I was dressed to impress. Wearing a red bra and panty set, ready to seduce a young man. I had an image of him in my head. The last pic he sent me, though wearing a mask showed a young guy with beautiful monolid black eyes. One of the features of my type.
His vid also showed a guy walking down the street and a recent selfie vid of him. Though he didn’t show his full face, I felt I had a good idea of how he looked like coupled with his pics from five years ago.
“Are you here?” I messaged him.
“One minute. I’m coming," he replied.
A taxi pulled up. A man got out. I looked around, scanning for C. He should be here soon, as I checked my watch.
“Yuki!” I looked up at the man who was hurrying to me as he waved for another cab.
My jaw dropped. Staring at this big guy with a pasty face and made-up lips. No…no…he couldn’t be.
He grabbed my bags and the cab he hailed stopped and together with the cab driver, they dumped my bags in the truck. He took my arm and pulled me into the taxi, and before I could get over my shock we were already on our way to my next hotel in Myeongdong.
“JH?” I swallowed, and he turned to me, smiling.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“You look very different,” I said.
Yes, I spouted those words again. The words no guy should hear from my mouth because that means this ain’t gonna happen. Our meeting was dead in the water. Fish floating, acid brewing, there was no way in hell I was gonna fuck this guy. Yes, that’s what those words meant.
“Am I different?" he patted his hair with his right hand, his left gripping my hand like a lifesaver. His fingers rubbed mine as my invisible hairs stood on ends. I tried pulling away, but his grip was a vise.
“You are so beautiful. So beautiful. Yuki, I was so excited to meet you," he crooned. Stroking my arm now, switching to grab my arm again as I tried to slip away. Freeing his left hand to stroke my hair and twirling my curls.
Eeeewwww…my heart racing. This would be #metoo wrong anywhere. Thunder in my chest, a sharp shrill in my ears. I contemplated jerking my arm from him and shouting, but the taxi driver was speeding through the one-lane street, buildings flying past; I could see parts of Hangang (the Han river), people walking, and some jogging; many bridges connecting the two parts of Seoul like corset laces.
The summer sun was high up at noon. Nothing should scare me, except I couldn’t get out, and my bags were in the trunk. I told myself an arm wasn’t much of a sacrifice. I could wait till we get there. It wasn’t like I didn’t use my arms for insignificant stuff.
If he could drool, I bet he would.
“Do you know BTS?" he asked still hugging my arm like a kiddo locked on his prize.
“Yeah. Everyone knows BTS,” I said.
“Are you a fan?" he asked.
“No,” I snapped, still struggling to pull my arm back. I could see where this was heading miles away. “I’m not into K-pop.”
“Oh…” He looked crestfallen. “I know BTS. Do you know RM? He’s my army friend.”
“Oh really…” I rolled my eyes.
“You don’t believe me? I will show you my text messages.” He pulled out his phone and flipped to his messages.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.” I shook my head. My stomach reeling from the motion of the taxi and his constant pawing. He reached for my hair, and I shielded away.
I had enough. Being kind could only stretch so far.
And just then, the cab pulled over at my hotel in Myeongdong. I tried to pay, but he waved my card aside, speaking to the driver in Korean, who told me, “Men pay.”
This rubbed me the wrong way. The driver didn’t get what was happening, and assuming I was the woman who needed to be taken care of was nonsense.
The two men rushed out of the car and together got my bags out. Before I could grabbed them, Cheshire waved my hands off, and we went up the elevator together.
As I was in line at the check-in, I was praying I wouldn’t have a room. I hated feeling like a weak woman without a choice.
I texted H, and he told me, “You made your bed.”
Yes, it was apt and somewhat funny thinking back, but at that time, the Cheshire train had already left the station, and I had to pull my brakes fast.
“Hey,” I said to him after the hotel staff took my bags from him. “We need to talk.” Pulling him to the side of the lobby where the crowds thinned to just us.
He reached for my hair again, and I pulled his fingers out from them. Eyes locked, I stared up at him. “This isn’t going to work.”
“What do you mean?" he asked. “I’m so happy.”
“I’m not going to have sex with you,” I said. I had to spell it out. He was the type to not get it. Language barriers or not.
“But…but…I waited for a year,” his voice trembled. He grabbed both my arms. I tried to pull away but he held me on. This wasn’t good.
“I waited a year too,” I said. “Also, we aren’t that close. We don’t talk about lots of things.”
“What do you mean? I like you. I want to do it with you…”
I hated doing this. But I hated more that he was trying to overpower me. I pulled my arms out from his hold.
Yes, words hurt. They were meant to be biting. H said I could be cruel. But, I’m arguing for my rights and I had the right to whom I slept with.
“I can’t. I don’t feel it. I can’t do this.”
“I’m good in bed. Many girls say that. You will like me. You will like what I do for you.”
“Dude, you can be the best, but it doesn't matter. I don’t feel the attraction,” I replied. I realized then the cards were stacked from the beginning, before meeting him. It wasn’t just the giggle or the white painted face or his size or his overzealous child-like manner.
It was my fault for thinking it would work out despite the many red flags. I should haven’t budged. That day when I texted him a month before saying I won’t meet him. At that time, he argued, he begged, he said he’d make it the best time for me. Promising that we’d go on many dates if I gave him a day for him.
The idea of going on dates in Seoul was too appealing. Had I known it was a culture of ghosting and making last-minute changes and cancellations, I wouldn’t have learned the painful lessons on that second trip to Seoul.
Plans changed, but where I came from, if we made an appointment, we kept to it. But in Korea, there were plenty of excuses. Was that why the people in this society guard selfishly the people they had? Distrusting forming deeper relationships with foreigners because we are seen as fleeting and not worth their precious time?
It was a crappy feeling that you were not an important person enough to warrant their time. And even more when my time was more precious and valuable, in my opinion, than anyone’s. If money were meant to equate time, mine would be exponential because of what I had to sacrifice to give to these people.
So when Cheshire offered to take time off his work to be with me, I seized it.
“I’m really sorry. We can be friends. I’ll treat you to lunch,” I told him.
“I don’t want lunch," he moped. “Please…” he grappled again. “Give me 30 mins.”
“No, I can’t…” I said.
“20 mins! I’m so sad…Yuki…I’m so sad…I waited for you…” Tears were welling in his eyes.
“No…I’m sorry…I’ll give you a hug.” I reached and hugged and patted his back.
“10 mins! Just 10 mins! I’ll show you.” His voice broke.
He tried to kiss me but I stopped him. It wasn’t right. The security guard was coming over. I pulled from him.
“Lunch?” I gave him a way out.
“No.” He straightened his back.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I said, and I watched him leave.
It wasn’t a good feeling to break a guy. However, in love, war, and sex, there are winners and losers.
“I don’t need money, power, or status. I’m a cougar. I can take care of myself.” I told another guy.
I had already given up so much on this trip. I couldn’t give any longer. I wore the crown for my fans and friends. A pedestal built by the masses. A queen is a queen because of the love they gives.
So no one can stop this cougar because I eat what I wanna eat.