I ate KFC that night. 

Not the chicken but the humankind. Would have been great if it came with a mug of beer. Always wanted to try ChiMek that I only saw in dramas. The way those people savor the crunchiness of the chicken as they take their bite into that juicy, finger-licking drumstick, followed by the fizzling, slightly sweet sensation of foamy beer as it flowed down their throats.

Yes. I want it too. The hot and cold. The cute and hunky Korean man that the Korean media so easily flaunt. As H called it — the Korean machine. 

K-pop stars and Korean actors are plastered online and on airwaves with their perfect, tight smooth bodies and 6-pack abs. Babyface boys grinning with dirty minds as they used you and dropped you when the next girl came along.

Wasn’t asking much. Just a night with one of these delectable young, hot guys. A score to settle just like they had one too. 

Who doesn’t love a MILF? Apparently, every guy does. It was on their bucket list just as mine was. Finding the right fit is always a challenge. I was sick of vanilla sex, and with each I met, I leveled up.

I got my own KFC for a one-nighter, on that last day of my YOLO-ing alone in my hotel room away from my family. It was the second summer in Seoul, and unlike the first, I was given three days away from my family in a different hotel across the Hangang River. It was a momentous decision because the last time I traveled alone was in 1999 when I flew across states for an interview. 

Yes, I was coddled. So, that weekend, I was brought to my senses. Reality wasn’t as what I’d pictured and for a foodie, life was harsh when you are left waiting for guys who broke promises to take you out for yummy Korean meals, and then play.

So, it started like this. With peanuts.

“I want to go back,” I sobbed on the phone.

“No. You can’t come back,” H said.

“You don’t understand, I haven’t eaten anything the past days.”

“What do you mean? What happened to your dates?” H asked.

“Only my FWB kept the appointment. The Katsu at Namsan Tower was yummy. The rest of the guys kept canceling.”

“What did you eat for lunch and dinner?” I asked. H was giving me the details on the delectable foods my children and him had and my stomach was growling in frustration. 

This couldn’t be the special time I was hoping for. Sex was the purpose but food was just as important, especially with all the saves I made on Insta months before. I wanted to eat good — the food and humankind.

But, the fact none of those guys were willing to spend time to break bread showed where I stood, or lay. 

This sucked. I felt like a freaking whore.

Time to switch it up. Because of those flakes, I’d rather take the chance with a stranger. And so, that was what I did. Looking back it was a gamble and looking forward, I won’t do that again. On that last day, I wanted to make memories and so I did what I did.

“I ate peanuts,” I said.

“What?” H laughed.

“Peanuts was my dinner tonight,” I replied.

“Go out and grab some food,” H said.

“It’s not that easy…,” I said. It was all excuses. I knew if I walked far enough and searched Google or Naver I’d find something. If I was serious about filling up my tummy I could have asked my Korean language teacher where to go.

But I was in pity mode. Pitying my current state of things and as I said before, I was coddled. I blamed the terrible transportation system where everywhere seemed so far away. Just to meet someone, it took at least forty minutes to an hour.

Only the horny one-nighters who didn’t know me would bother traveling. Those who did and who had seen my insides weighed the pros and cons.

“Go out,” H said. “I have to go. Your kid is calling me.”

“Peanuts,” I said to myself. “What would you do if you only ate peanuts?” I said to the wall, and to my phone as I swiped for the next stranger guy to meet.

My eyes riveted onto him. “No freaking way.” Why would a guy like him be on a dating app? He should have girls lining up just to meet him. I was checking his page for catfishing. The photographs looked real enough. He wasn’t crazy impossible handsome like Cha Eun Woo but he could pass being one of those Kpop B-listers or a supporting role in a Kdrama. Enough to cause many heads to turn.

“Hi :)” I sent him a text on Bumble. A chat replied in a snap.

“Hello,” he replied. “Are you in Seoul?”

Typical for a one-nighter to ask. “Yes,” I replied.

“Where are you?” he asked.  

“Myeongdong,” I said.

“Good. I’m at work now. It’s about twenty minutes from my office.”

“Oh. That’s not far…” I replied.

“Do you want to meet?” he asked. My heart was beating fast. No way. Is this for real?

“Do you like older women?” I asked. I checked his profile. He was twenty-seven.

“Yes. Very much…do you like young guys?” 

“I do.” I smiled to myself. 

“Where do you want to meet?” he asked. “Have you eaten?”

He was one of the few to ask me that. Already earning brownie points for being polite.

“Not yet,” I said.

“Okay, we can meet in Myeongdong Street and maybe pick up food there. I haven’t eaten too,” he said.

It was almost 8:30pm. I glanced at my bottle of peanuts and grinned. Can’t let this fish swim away.

“Let’s meet first at a Sulbing and decide,” I said. Sulbing was a shaved ice franchise. Summer was tourist season, and the place was jam-packed with Asian tourists. 

I got there first and was giggling to myself. I imagine him weaving through the gaggles of gossipy ajummas (old aunts) and ajooshis (old uncles) to get to me. True enough, when he arrived, he looked horrified when all the tourists turned their heads at once like some zombie movie, eyeing him. They were probably wondering what this young Korean guy was doing in their realm of ice-cold dessert feasting. 

It was worth a laugh when he caught my gaze, and I went to him, not wanting the poor guy to beg any further.