43. trying not to make situations awkward makes situations even more awkward.

i'm going to take a brief break from my usual anti-romance writing and present to you things i do to make awkward situations all the more awkward.

but if you read the title, you probably already figured that out.

anyway.

1.  walking in the rain back up to my internship office, i turned the corner and found myself face to face with a middle-aged man who was mid-swing in what looked like an umbrella-rain-dance-a-la-Gene-Kelly.

and instead of joining in [as i should've done, in retrospect], i stared for a few seconds before finally offering a friendly smile.

too late.

he took off without another word, ashamed.

2.  i was eating breakfast in an elevator when i noticed yet another middle-aged man was watching me.  mouth full of food, i tried to strain a smile.

it felt like a Grinch smile.

he looked away.

3.  "I'm yoh mommy, I'm not gonna like any boys you girls bring home."

"Well, that's lucky for me!"

"GIRLS, TOO."

[this one wasn't actually entirely my fault, but it's fun to share.]

4.  "You know, relationships and, uh, all that, that stuff that go with them, they're tough."

"...Yeah.  I dunno, Daddy, I just don't know...what...to do...with girls."

"Me neither!  I had no idea til the wedding night."

"...Gross."

5.  [shortly after #4]

"I don't know how to go about being affectionate either."

"Okay."

"You know, haha, one day, I told your mom -- I was kidding around -- 'Wanna go upstairs, to our room?'"

"Um."

"And she said, haha, 'You gonna hap to seduce me first.'  Hahahaha  Of course, I didn't know how."

"Gross."

6.  I drunkenly ran into a cute girl at a party.  Didn't know how to carry on a conversation, as usual.

So, instead, I said, "Put your arms up like this!"

She did.

And I went in for a Sneak Hug.

7.  I was 5, talking to my best friend.

"I'm not saying I LIKE girls, I'm just saying that if I was a boy I'd like Kate."

"Um..."

"So if YOU were a boy, which girl would YOU like?"

"...I don't know..."

"C'mon...you've never...thought about it?"

"No."

"C'mon!  I won't tell anyone.  This is just make-believe."

"...Vickie, I don't know."

"GAH!  You're lame!"

8.  playing Life with my sisters and my younger cousins, to whom I wasn't Out yet.  it was my turn.

"'Stop.  It's your wedding day!'"

"Okay, so you get to put someone else in your car."

"...Make it a pink one."

"...Why?"

"I dunno.  My husband could like pink.  Or maybe I don't want to get married.  Maybe I just want to go through life with my best friend."

::silence::

"...Okay.  Here's your pink piece."

[later, my turn again.]

"Yay!  My...best friend...and I are adopting twins!"

9.  [Someone tells a bad joke.]

Me:  Bwahahahahahaha!

Cousin Angelina:  You laugh too much.

Me: ...[internal suffering]...Bwahahahahaha...!

10.  someone in my 12th grade English class told a bad joke about the book we were discussing.

having only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before, delirious, i replied, when the laughing stopped, "That was nerdy.  We are nerds."

11.  in my 10th grade English class, discussion turned to the topic of bullying.

i raised my hand.

and proceeded to go into a 10 minute tirade about the evils of bullying.

and started to cry.

a lot.

everyone was stunned and silent.

"I-I-I don't know hahaha  why I'm crying  hahahaha  boohoohoooooooo!  Hahaha!  Boohoo!  Haha!  PMS!  Boohoo!"

--

if there're more, you'll be the first to know.

35. friend-flirting vs. flirting-flirting. WHO WILL WIN?

if you've been following along with this blog, you're probably well acquainted with the fact that i'm kind of an idiot in matters of the heart.

not kind of.

...and not just of the heart.

if you're currently being Notes-to-Self-deflowered, well, i just told you.

you're welcome.

and now that that's established, and everyone's caught up, let's move on.

once, when i was complaining about the fact that i'm either the last to find out about other people's feelings towards me or i'm branded as the forever-friend and nothing more, my less-mushy/sympathetic sister told me two things: 1) "hahahahahaha Your love life makes me laugh"; 2) "Be wary of the difference between friend-flirting and flirting-flirting."

What the hell is "friend-flirting?" i wondered.

she told me that when someone wants to be friends with another - just friends - he/she takes an approach similar to the one they'd take if they wanted things to be romantic.

it's more toned-down, slightly less forward.

it's all about talking and getting to know someone.

hanging out, bonding, goofing off.

"So...what's flirting-flirting, then?"

my mind was blown.

"Well, I mean. If you just wanna be friends with someone, you're less likely to try so hard you make an ass of yourself, right? It's less forced. More natural."

no.

no, that's not the case.

unfortunately, for so long i was trapped in a shell that now, whenever i sense any inkling of a connection with someone, i become overzealous in my endeavours and end up making an ass of myself anyway.

in fact, i'd argue that when i first meet someone, any idea of possible romantic feelings is the farthest from my mind.

my primary goal when i meet someone is to be able to force myself to go beyond my shy borders, choke out any potential thoughts, feelings, and interests, rather than resort to my usual, safe, reserved nature.

to be friends.

apparently, this is the wrong way to go about things.

nobody else seems to feel this way.

which means that on more than one occasion, looking back, i'm sure i've come across as something of a creeper to a number of people.

or an asshole.

like that one time when a friend unwisely assigned me the role of her wingwoman, and, try as i might to encourage her target to hang out with us, my multiple texts/invitations/urgings probably only made it look as though i was the predator.

bad friend-flirting.

or that time at Game Stop when a friendly guy came up and struck up a conversation, and i thought it was perfectly acceptable to reciprocate, only to find out that he was hitting on me.

"Are you single?"

"Uhh," with sudden realization, "I am, but...I'm also a lesbian."

[i'm still not sure why i decided to let him know that i'm also a lesbian.]

more bad friend-flirting.

other examples include more times when i've inadvertently led someone on, only to upset them and burn bridges: bridges i didn't even know were burned til much later when a close friend chastises me for my foolishness.

there are times when, apparently, i'm too good at friend flirting.

or i'm bad at it, sometimes crossing that line.

...i'm not sure if that thought process was easy to follow.

oh, well.

in terms of flirting-flirting, well, i'm still working on this.

sadly, once i've decided that i've somewhat succeeded, in any small way, in friend-flirting, as well as the fact that i'm actually deeply attracted to whoever's fallen victim to my awkward friend-woos, things become more complicated.

not because i'm ambiguous or because i "play the game."

but because i do exactly the opposite of those things.

everyone's playing Halo.

i'm still stuck on Parcheesi.

while, apparently, i've been practicing my friend-flirting for a number of years, my flirting-flirting's been put on the backburner.

or i've just got a totally different perspective on how it should all play out.

i was raised in a Korean household, meaning i was always taught that people can and should be as blunt and unrelenting as my mother.

also, dating/flirting/extracurricular social life were all big no-nos in our house, so i didn't get much of a chance to get out there in the first place.

also, there was that whole Closet debaucle.

anywho.

whenever i try to flirt-flirt, i find myself battling inner-demons: those instincts of just throwing everything onto the table instead of showing my cards in moderation.

i blush, laugh too loudly, make awkward, sappy admissions.

basically, my wooing abilities carry with them the power to scare any lesbian away.

a true gift.

navigating that line between friend-flirting and flirting-flirting is hard.

impossible.

i either go too far, or not far enough, or too far without realizing it and regretting it later, or just make an ass of myself.

to those of you i might have frightened away - and what're the chances, really, of you completely avoiding me only to occasionally read my blog - i apologize.

i have the social skills of a very confused kindergartener.

creeping you out was never on my to-do list.

i should probably take to being clear in my intentions whenever i try to hang out with people.

"Hi, I'm Vickie! I'm not hitting on you right now, I just want to be friends."

or.

"Hi, I'm Vickie! I'm actually hitting on you right now, but please let me know if I go too far so I can make a note of it for future friend-deavours or girlfriend-deavours."

sad.

this is gonna be a long road.

26. i'm the Toro Slut. and hugging leads to sex.

i know i must be bad in bed because the cuddling that ensues afterward is my favorite part.

i'd do anything for a good cuddle.

the sex part is really just the vehicle to get me there.

"Wanna go back to my place and...cuddle? Oh, you wanna have sex first. Well. Okay."

i mean, i don't have much experience to base this on.

i've been with 2 people, kind of.

still more than my 2 sisters combined.

which actually makes me the Toro Slut.

2 more and i've got my parents beat, too.

not that i'm creepy enough to keep up with these stats.

unfortunately, the second i turned 20 my mother transformed into an awkwardly explicit stranger who advised my sisters and me to, "Not wait until marriage. Oh my gahhhh. Biggest mistake."

this was a complete turn around from the person who, after catching Olivia hug her 7th grade boyfriend, sat down with my dad and warned us that, "Hugging leads to sex."

our dad cried.

Sex is evillll, i gathered, so i knew i had to avoid it at all costs.

i used to count hand-holding as its own base.

1st: hand-holding.
2nd: kissing.
3rd: touching.
Home: it.

and i felt this way until my second year of college.

i didn't get to my 2nd til i was 19.

but then i started spooning.

er, got over my fear of spooning.

because, for all intents and purposes, spooning is the laying down version of hugging.

[insert story of first spooning experience.]

so once i got the hang of it, i was hooked.

but then i found out that it wasn't that easy to come by.

being that, for the typical person, spooning comes as a consequence of other, less-innocent acts, but for me is the overall purpose for those less-innocent acts, i'm kind of an outsider.

i don't know if i've ever had that feeling of wanting to "sex" someone.

when i first saw Easy A, i thought to myself, "Oh, man. I bet she'd be a really great little spoon."

it's weird how strong this need to cuddle is.

i'm cuddle-horny.

corny.

"Boy, would I wanna cuddle HER bones. Just get right up in there and SNUGGLE."

my libido is stupid.

or it would be if i had one.

meanwhile, i have to get over myself and accept that, when i go out to clubs or parties, not everyone i meet is gonna be all up for hooking up in a purely - literally - Biblical sense, where legs are clapped shut and the only thing i'm looking for is a good cuddle.

25. i'm hotter than the platypus.

one of the meanest things anyone's ever told me was when my ex, during a talk about talking, said, "I don't think we need to talk. Just the physical stuff - being around each other - is enough."

i mean, knowing her, she meant it in a romantic kind of way, but for someone whose biggest fear is not being able to say the things that're on my mind without sounding stupid, for someone who wants to finally be able to open up and share things with someone who's more or less obligated to listen, that's a pretty crappy thing to hear.

it was weird when i found that out about myself.

i never really saw myself as the kind who would be the one in the relationship to want to talk.

the Little Spoon.

but throughout our relationship i found myself saying things like, "Don't you wanna talk about it?" and "We never talk! Let's share things!"

after a little while, hearing my echo, i realized, "Hot damn. I'm THAT lesbian. Crap."

i wasn't always like this, though.

when i was little, i was perfectly happy being the quiet kid.

i didn't know i was weird til my mother told me.

then again, she had my sisters first, so it wasn't a huge surprise to find that my shyness threw her off.

she was used to getting calls from elementary school teachers who explained, time and time again, that my sisters were way too chatty and knowledgeable for their own good (as they were both the kind to tell the others how babies were made and how babies were unmade. abortion. in the 2nd grade.).

when i came along, she was sure the calls would stop.

as a baby, i never so much as whimpered for food.

so one day, when i was in kindergarten, and a teacher actually did call home, my mother was taken aback.

she came into my room to talk to me.

"Beekie?" she said, sweetly.

"...Yes?" the unusual gentleness in her voice was a little unnerving.

"Ah you unhappy?"

"...No...I don't think so...why?"

"Yoh teacha call to tell me dat she's worried because uh you habn't said a word in 6 months."

Is that strange? i thought.

"Beekie," she started again, "You hap to staht talking, okay? Oddawise people gonna sink yoh weird. Nobody like shy people, okay? So work on dat."

i was horrified.

it didn't help that, as i was growing up, i had my sisters to compete with.

they were flippin' verbal beasts.

they've always had something witty or passionate or eloquent to say about anything you could think of.

they can make a flippin platypus sound poetic.

no offense to the platypus.

but i mean.

i'm hotter than the platypus.

on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the platypus and 10 being, like, Kate Winslet, i'm at least a bulldog.

like a 4.

but maybe i'm not giving bulldogs enough credit.

the way they walk.

always like they're headed someplace with a purpose.

doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot.

my walk's a little less doot-doot-oriented.

for as long as i can remember, really, i've waddled.

less a doot-doot and more a whop-whop.

i don't hate my walk anymore, though.

not as much as i did when i was a kid, anyway.

little kids are ass-holes.

i used to get teased to no end.

kids'd follow me around the playground, mimicking my walk.

call me Waddles.

i'd always play and laugh along, like it didn't bother me, but Little Vickie had feelings, too.

once, when i was about 10, my dad noticed that i looked a little down.

"Whatsamatter, Vickie?"

"Oh, nothing," i sighed.

"C'mon, you can tell me."

"Well...I waddle."

"...And?"

i sighed in despair again.

"Go on," he added, hastily.

"The other kids tease me, but I can't help it."

"Oh, well, Vickie, that's no big deal. You know, one of the greatest comedians of all time waddled."

being that at this point i'd already been telling anyone who'd listen that i was going to grow up and be just like Ellen Degeneres, this was a pleasant surprise.

"Really?!"

"Yeah!"

he went out and rented Charlie Chaplin's The Gold Rush and watched it with me.

the second that little tramp waddled his way into frame, i knew i was in love.

that i'd found my kindred.

i was obsessed.

the following Halloween i dressed up as the tramp.

all of the kids in the neighborhood had no clue who i was, but the old people treated me special.

slipped me extra candy.

gave me high-fives.

greeted me with a, "Hey, Charlie!"

things were going great and my waddle was the last thing on my mind.

until i got to the last house.

the little old lady who lived there greeted me with a big smile and, like the others, several extra Snickers.

i was feeling good.

i turned and made my way down her path back to my parents.

"Hey!" she cried, suddenly.

i turned back around, expecting more praise.

"You even WALK like him!"

i don't think she knew it was unintentional.

for a second, my heart sank with the memories of my playground bullies, but then i remembered my Chaplin.

and waddled on.

22. sex is weird.

i'm actually not gonna start this post off with sex.

the title was just a ploy to reeeeeel you in.

and you see, it worked!

perv.

(fear not, though: awkward observations about sex are to come.

...hahahaha.

...gross.

sorry.)

anywho!

what i will start off with is the fact that my triple-threat status as an ethnic, queer woman gets a lot of weird reactions.

brown and yellow people take one look at my gayness and say, "eeeeeeesh."

gays/overly politically correct and activist lesbians take one look at my iffy hue and go, "oooooooo."

straight guys look at everything and say, "YESSSSSS."

hm.

i've never really understood that whole "straight guy fascination with lesbian sex" thing.

maybe it's because, for me, the mystery's gone.

er, actually, the mystery is still very much there, as the reality of the situation is that sex is downright confusing.

don't get me wrong, i hardly regret anything.

it's just.

hot damn.

my first time was...right.

we'd talked about it, prepared for it, we really cared about each other, we were sober...

it was right.

but holy Jeebus.

there were moments when i kind of wished i was at least a little drunk.

had some liquid courage.

didn't apologize every few seconds for being awkward or doing awkward things.

didn't make things more awkward than they needed to be by apologizing for being awkward.

straight guys/guys in general don't know how easy they have it.

lucky douches.

if there's one thing i've learned in the past year, it's that women are weird.

and complicated.

and the fact that i'm one of them doesn't make things any easier.

if anything, it's more terrifying to think that the other person might be able to read my thoughts or something.

or might know or understand something about me that i don't even know or understand.

women are weird and complicated and scary.

i would know: i come from a long line of them.

and i take after my dad.

[to be continued. sorry for the abrupt ending.

that's what he said!]

17. i come from a long line of terrifying women. and i take after my dad.

long time, no talk.

but excuses are like butts, and right now mine's hidden because of its recent descent into flabby unawesomeness, so i'll spare you.

anywho.

lately, i've been learning all sorts of fun facts about my family's history.

my Dominican side has ties to the assassination of Trujillo, and my Korean grandma broke all of the rules.

ALL of the rules.

apart from successfully escaping the clutches of her North Korean captors during the Korean War, she also managed to do much of the same from her adulterous husband.

apparently, my Korean grandpa was anything but faithful to her during their marriage.

he had affairs - Jeebus knows how many - and eventually, he managed to get a woman pregnant.

pissed, my grandmother had him and his mistress arrested - because adultery was against the law in those days - which was unheard of, as it was usually men who turned their adulterous wives in, while enjoying the company of as many women as they chose.

but my grandmother had him put into prison, divorced him, and bent his entire family to her will as she was the one with the money and the power.

"When he's released," she told him and his family, "I will help support him, but only because he can't support himself."

the family had no choice but to do whatever she asked.

so she was a war survivor and a divorcee.

and, on top of everything else, a successful Black Market saleswoman.

we still don't know the details.

all we know is that she also managed to raise my mother: a woman whose nickname in high school was Barracuda.

according to our aunt, my mother was the type who actively disliked just about every boy in school, which in turn only increased her appeal and made said boys want her love all the more.

nothing changed when she graduated and took a job at the US military base near her hometown.

indeed, she had been proposed to several times, and even found herself occasionally serenaded in the Officers Club and bars and the like.

she was the shit.

and, according to her, she knew it.

the only person who didn't seem to know it was, of course, my clueless dad.

"Uh, dat's where YOU get it from," she told me, mid-story.

anywho.

apparently, my mother was confused as to why this one man just didn't seem to like her as much as all the other men she met.

What's wrong with him? she wondered, and, What's wrong with me?

she had to get to the bottom of it and make him notice her.

she tried flirting.

"But he was stupid and didn't notice."

"...I really didn't..."

"So I had to try eben hahdah."

"Yep. She did."

and so she resorted to spreading rumors about how she had a crush on Andy Toro - a rumor she hoped would reach him.

and it did.

"But I didn't really believe it," my dad interjected, "The guys would say things like, 'Hey, man, I heard Ms. Kim wants to have a tour of your tank.' And I'd be like, '...So?'"

and my mom shook her head.

"Useless."

finally, my mom took a more direct approach.

"Andy?" she asked one day, when they ran into each other, "Would you mind teaching me Englishy? My Englishy is uh berry bad."

"Huh?" was all my dad could say, clearly confused, "Um...I guess..."

and after just a couple of sessions, my dad finally came to his senses.

finally, he asked her out.

"Okay," she told him, "But I just hab to uh tell my boypriend I can't see him anymoh."

"...Boyfriend?!" my dad exclaimed.

"...Boyfriend?!!!" i exclaimed, years later.

"Uh huh," my mom went on, "Foh a while I was dating dis man wis biiig glasses, berry tall, berry white, but berry nice. He wanted to get married, but he couldn't marry me while in his kind obah job, so he quit and said we could stay in uh Korea for a few moh years so I could learn better English befoh we go to dah States."

i stared.

"Yeah. I felt so bad when I broke up wis him. I couldn't eben look him in the face when I did it. But aptahword, when we left dah restaurant, I finally looked up at him, and his glasses were so foggy, and I felt so bad, so I just reached out my hand and gabe him a handshake and said, 'Okay! Bye!' And dat was it. Huh. I wondah where he is now?'"

my dad shook his head.

"Yep. And I bet you regretted it ever since."

"...Maybe. hahahaha."

knowing this doesn't make the fact that both of my parents are sure that i take after my dad at all comforting.

"But look at it dis way," my mother tried to console me, "It's actually lucky you're a lesbian."

"...Why?"

"Girls like nerdy, awkward, shy people moh. Look at me and yoh daddy."