Archive for April 10th, 2008

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真空爱情记录

April 10, 2008

In this post, I’ll loosely go over a little backgound info from before I met him and some detailed description of our first meeting from my side.

2007年末,我怀着极其恋恋不舍的心情跨年,盘算着,即将26岁,我要怎么样面对生活的压力?找工作,换身份,没有男朋友,在异国它乡漂泊。。。那个年,我过得一点都不开心,太多的不确定让我绝望。想起一些年长的朋友说,过了30岁,你就不想过生日了,我苦笑,过了24岁我就已经不想过生日了。那种在心里纠缠不开,萦绕不绝的痛苦像涓涓溪流慢慢的,轻轻地滴答着我的心,无法释怀,让我无法痛快的享受生活。

一切的一切,都只有一条出路,那时我唯一能够生存的路。3,4月一定要找到夏季的实习,这样我冬季毕业的时候便有极大的可能有工作,有了工作我才能从学生身份转成工作签证,才能进入漫长的绿卡申请程序,才有资格等待。很多时候都是这样,我们以为我们有很多的出路,我们以为我们可以选择,临到了跟前,才知道很多事情不由我们选择。尤其是在异国他乡,困在这个透明的被称为身份的盒子里,太多的东西看上去很美,却永远无法触及。

因为本科毕业的时候在国内工作的不顺利经历,美国日益恶化的经济状况,外国人的身份。。。堆积起来让我紧张,如履薄冰。层层的阴云堆积起来,仿佛从我的小腹一直堆积到我的咽喉,让我无法呼吸。总而言之,我讨厌2008年。

逃不过的,过新年,一定要许新年愿望。我的新年愿望便是让2007年的糟糕运气都统统走掉,然后,给我一个男朋友,让我顺利找到工作。愿是许了,一如从前的25年,我相信,许愿的作用并不是很大,虽然我一直在许,从未放弃。

大家都会很善意的祝福我,说,说不定明天出门就撞到一个人,他就是我的Mr. Right。我只是很无聊的答他们的话,心里那一系列的熟识男生名字备注里都写着:不可能。我不相信一见钟情,我不相信pick up from the bar,我骨子里很传统,即使我真的出门撞到一个人,我也不相信任何迹象会让我相信他就是the one.

2008年1月11号,崭新一年的崭新光棍节。要开学了,我百无聊赖,跑去跟吉姆吃饭,吃完饭他回去上班,我沿着 campus corner一直走,不如去学校的Art Museum吧!那段时间我实在闲得无聊,在家里画画,于是想提高一下自己的素养,去看看别人的东西。我裹紧大衣,转弯进了那个博物馆。

因为看到凡高和毕沙罗的真迹,我当天非常非常的激动。因为有真迹在,那几个展厅也有茂盛的保安。你想,他们都多无聊啊!每天就站在那里看着那些画,能遇到一个参观者他们就象找到一根救命稻草一样,拼命的跟我说话,自己啊,女儿们啊,孙女们啊。。。幸好那天我真的很罕见的很闲,于是就跟他们在那里胡侃。不知道什么时候,我养成的习惯,到一个自己喜欢的地方一定要买点纪念品,很便宜的东西就好,杯子啊,T恤啊,或者只是一张明信片。所以我就溜进了博物馆里的小纪念品店,巴望着能够找到跟我偶像凡高有关的便宜纪念品带回家。

我刚一进去,一个店员就从里间出来,问我需要什么,我说我想找一些卡片,他便走过去,拿了一张博物馆照片为图片的卡片给我,我问多少钱,他说1块5,我想,也不贵,便想买下来,手里拿着它继续在店里乱转。看到一些CD,有一张是埃及的,我喜欢埃及,于是拿起来看,可是放回去的时候没放好,掉到地上了,我忙捡起来,那个店员闻声出来,我很尴尬,笑笑。他很nice的说,你想听哪一盘?我放给你听。我很吃惊他的话,我以为不责怪已经是对我很友好了,没想到他还主动要求放给我听。不过,我就是那种脸皮很厚的人,于是就坡下驴,指着埃及的CD说,就它吧!他转身进办公室给我放音乐。我不太熟悉埃及的音乐,可是听到的时候就觉得,恩,这就是我认为的埃及的感觉!他走出来跟我聊起来,他说他也喜欢埃及的音乐,因为很neat,他在店里随机的放音乐,很多时候就会有客人问,这是什么音乐,这么好听,他回去一看,就是埃及的音乐。我知道美国人都很友好,不会让你尴尬,所以总是顺着你说,我当然也不会太当真。于是我们就聊开了。

朋友打来电话,要来博物馆接我。我突然想起我约了一帮朋友要请他们吃饭。我赶紧为那张卡片付钱,准备离开。那个店员突然跟我说,如果你需要练习英语,你可以跟我联系。我支支吾吾的应着,忙着把信用卡放回钱包,把卡片放回背包。他突然说,如果你需要,可以记一下我的电话,有空的时候想练习英语就打给我,我晚上2点以后才睡。我说,好吧。便记下了他的电话号码和名字,离开。那是2008年1月11日,星期四。

记下他电话以后我有意无意会考虑要不要给他打电话,若有若无的。我知道他喜欢我,美国人的喜欢,否则不会给我电话。可是,我该对他抱多大的希望呢?该在我心里怎么样作怎么样的期待。我犹豫,我打给他,会不会太主动?会不会是我想太多了,其实他没有指望我打给他?我打给他之后该说什么好呢?。。。

实在犹豫,周五我便跑去找吉姆,我笑眯眯的跟他说,你要跟我去露台抽一支烟吗?他的建议是:1,所有的男人都是想跟人上床;2,如果你喜欢他,就打给他,你需要学会在美国跟人交往,不要太自闭;3,约他吃午饭,因为一般人的午饭时间只有1个小时,吃完你就可以走了,不会involve too much,午饭是friendship性质的;4,他可能非常的好,只是想教你英语;5,He might be somewhere between a jerk and Mr. Right;6, Don’t over think it。问完吉姆,我转身去问诺,问到一半,我突然意识到,我这样四处找人问该怎么办,其实我内心就是很想打给他的。于是我不再找人问,出了办公室,过了街,拔出手机便打了过去。我说,我觉得你很好,你愿意跟我吃午饭吗?他说,好,周日吧!我把车开过来,吃过午饭后我们还可以出去玩。我一头瀑布汗啊!之所以第一次约来吃午饭就是不想有下文啊!吃过午饭之后就分开,我还是尽可攻退可守的,另外还有一个忌讳就是第一次吃饭就上他的车,因为上了车就完全不在我的掌握之中了。。。不过,这样的情况下我也不可能推辞了,硬着头皮答应下来,心里还是很打鼓。

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About Me & The Test

April 10, 2008

As a matter of privacy and to ensure that we’re able to be as blunt and open in this blog as possible, we’ve come to the very logical (and only slightly odd) decision that my name shall never be revealed. Bing has decided to call me ‘Little K’ or ‘I’ interchangeably so feel free to address me as either .

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About Me

I’m a caucasian male from a middle-class family nearing my 30th birthday. Despite religious ties within the household growing up, I’ve never been Christian or member of any sort of congregation or sect. My politics skew somewhere in the middle so I guess I’m a moderate. Not one of those boring, ‘I don’t want to choose a side’ people. But I can’t find a side that properly represents my views in politics and certainly not in either of the dominant parties.

I’ve lived the majority of my life in the same city in which I was born, though I spent nearly a year in Japan during my mid-20s.

Somehow the necessity of finding a job landed me a spot at a local art museum. Which is where Bing and I actually met since she’s a student at a nearby university and a devout art lover.

The Test

Bing came into the museum dressed rather casually; I remember thinking she looked as if she’d just woken up or were under a lot of stress or something, ‘cause she had a wrinkled sweatshirt on and a pair of dark navy sweatpants. Her eyes looked tired but would brighten at the sight of certain paintings or objects like a little kid being shown a new toy.

Honestly? I can’t say that I felt any connection to her. I’m romantic but don’t like lying for sentiment, so lets just say I paid attention to her because it was my job. We chatted a bit about some of the art pieces and artists in general – she’s a massive fan of Vincent VanGogh – and we got along. I wasn’t really flirting with her per se, maybe an occasional joke to lighten the mood or make her laugh, but I certainly wasn’t disinterested. I liked how open she was with her opinions; it’s something a vast majority of foreign students from Asia don’t usually possess. It helped that her English was good enough to follow a conversation, but I thought maybe she was a very free person in general.

As she was leaving, I impulsively decided to give her a test. I’m not in the habit of testing people, but I couldn’t help it. I offered to give her my phone number and she, being Chinese and polite, programmed my name and cell number into her mobile. Which I knew she would do. Afterwards, she smiled, waved and then left.

I never expected to hear from her. Those immature hopes we hold onto whenever we give someone our number and pray they’ll call us? I didn’t have them. I knew enough about Asian attitudes and matters of social policy to understand that it was completely impossible for a Chinese girl to call me, to be bold. To essentially make a move. So I didn’t think about it.

I went to work, did menial tasks under the direction of my dictator boss, and basically went about my normal routine. Finished up and headed home for the day.

Then my cell phone rang as I was driving to my apartment.

It was Bing.

And she wanted us to have lunch.

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The ‘test’ I referred to was actually pretty simple: To learn more about her based on whether she did or did not call me. That I was more likely to never hear from her again only provided the fact that I did more emphasis.

There were some other assumptions I had made based on this that turned out to be true, but everyone has a lucky day, don’t they?

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