Living in Wonju South Korea, These Many Long Years

Living in Wonju South Korea, These Many Long Years: Version 2.0!

Wednesday, June 11, 2014


It's Thursday night.  While the premise was a company dinner, there are but two left, sharing war stories while working out boundaries.  Male and Female, clearly into the other, save: office. Gossip.  Idiocy.  Both are cognizant of these facts, but here they find themselves, sisters and cockblockers far removed, having an unadulterated conversation.

It's lively and fresh, real.  Fate seems to be drawing them to a pure conclusion, when the male says:

What's that smell?

He only draws attention to it, as he knows he must, even if it did come from his puckered, fetid ass hole.  Yet this isn't an attempt to be gentle and astute, it's more like: how can I ask for a gas mask without appearing too rude?

The female giggles.  The male assumes that this is an acknowledgment that it didn't come from his shithole, as he well aware of his own flatulence power.  He can't entertain this for long though, as another noxious wave near renders him incapacitated.

That was seriously awesome!  I had my mouth open hur hur. . .  good one!

The female looks at him strangely for a moment.  Then it is very obvious that it hits her as well.

Waaaa . . . what did you eat??!  That is so nasty!

When she says this, the male hears her rip another juicy cliffhanger.

Wait, you thought that was me?  LOL?  You think of me as the dog you can blame your gas on??!!  You are so white! hahahaha

The mention of whiteness ruffles the male's feathers; he'd been having a bad week, spending too much time reading Asian American hate websites.  The male appreciates the angst that hanging out with a Korean American can introduce.  In the past, he'd known more than a few who expected they would lecture on what life was like in the good 'ol West for a non Caucasian coming from a relatively well to do family, while dismissing whatever experiences a white dude married to an Asian female living in the east could bring to the table, as the white dude no matter circumstance was obviously fulfilling some weird fantasy related to yellow fever or an inclination towards fulfilling a Lolita fantasy. . .  that is what you are expected to internalize as a person of color at a top school in the US after all, and in need of affirmation.  Living in Korea, dealing with Korean dudes telling all the women expressing an interest in non Korean dudes that they are scum, and understanding the life of a woman who had chosen to do so regardless of social stigma and censure, has always meant nothing to most Asian Americans, since it's always about the white dude stealing women and generally being a loser and never about love or the women thinking they might have something more than what is expected from cows. . .

The male knows it is time to go.  He thought he might have something to contribute, but then he is too old, too white, and too much of a visible target.  If only he were sensitive, working at getting in touch with his feminine side. . . but he really is nothing more than he is, so knows that he is expected to sit quietly and endure the sins of those he could never understand: the forefathers that he is expected to atone for.

As he thinks all this, another ripe nasty cloud occupies his olfactory range.

Wow, look at how late it is!  Guess it would be time to go!  Busy day in the morn!

On the walk home, the male wonders what made him think this particular female was different or special.  He drops the idea, since well, there is no opportunity for engagement, and he'd rather not spend time working at being a bitch responding to only be fed the 'special situation' line.  After all, this male has little sympathy for twinkies who play the race card.

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