Taters, I know what you mean about being sick of family holidays. I was never a fan of Korean family holidays - Lunar New Year’s and the Harvest Moon festival. All it meant was that I’d be stuck in the kitchen with the other women cooking while the men got drunk and later ended up quarrelling over the same family issues over and over again. Blech. I didn’t mind spending time with my mom’s side of the family - we got along fine - but my dad’s side of the family always exasperated me to no end.
So last night, I was lounging around at home with nothing much to do. Cloud Maiden had left for a Hot Date, and I’d called Mr. Cheerio, one of my friends from grad school, to see if he wanted to hang out, but apparently he was recovering from the flu. I eventually called That Guy to see if him and Minister’s Lad were hanging out; he informed me that his girlfriend’s friends were visiting and that they were going to go see the turtle races, and would I like to come along. I hesitated for a few seconds, because I wasn’t sure if watching turtle races with my hopefully-ex-lover, his girlfriend, and her friends was the ideal way to spend a Firday night, but I was so stir-crazy with being inside all day that I eventually said yes.
The bar was PACKED with turtle racing fans. I had no idea turtle racing was so popular. They had races every half-hour, so we ended up watching four, or five - not sure, mostly because there was also a lot of drinking involved. That Guy’s girlfriend (I’m going to start calling her Victorian Heroine, because that’s what she reminds me of in so many ways) greeted me so warmly that I immediately started feeling guilty, which I remedied with a bottle of cider for starters. That Guy had apparently decided that the best way to deal with having to hang out with both Victorian Heroine and myself all at once was to flirt with me in a friendly fashion, which amused and exasperated me to no end. He lifted me up so I could get a glimpse of the turtle races and messed around with my hat as if to say, hey, look at us, we’re totally cool and comfortable around each other, we have nothing to hide. :rolleyes: Victorian Heroine’s friends were quite friendly towards me and Victorian Heroine herself chatted and joked around with me as if we were best buddies.
“So is Cloud Maiden out on a date with S?” That Guy asked me. S is one of That Guy’s friends who took a fancy to Cloud Maiden about a month ago. S asked That Guy for Cloud Maiden’s phone number; Cloud Maiden said she didn’t mind, but that she wasn’t interested in anything romantic. S asked her out on a date anyway.
“No, she’s out with someone else.”
One of Victorian Heroine’s friends looked startled at the mention of S. Turns out she’s his ex. As I chatted with her about how S was actually a 13-year-old in a 25-year-old’s body, something that That Guy had said to me nagged in the back of my mind. Later when we had a moment alone, I turned to him and asked, “You told me that S’s ex-girlfriend was a bitch.”
“Yeah, I did.” He looked mischevious. “She also hooked up with Mr. Cheerio last fall; did I mention that too?”
I sat there for a moment, pondering my situation. Here I was, watching turtle races with my hopefully-ex-lover, his girlfriend, and her best friends, one of whom had dated a guy who currently had the hots for my roommate and had also hooked up with another mutual friend who was currently back together with his own ex. I needed another drink.
Victorian Heroine’s friends left early, leaving the three of us behind. Victorian Heroine suggested we go to another bar. That Guy seemed ready to call it a night, but part of me was enjoying watching him squirm. He hid it well, of course, but I could feel his eyes on me when he thought no one else was looking. We ended up going to another bar, having one more drink, and arguing over whether That Guy’s jacket was actually gray or brown. Victorian Heroine and I came to the conclusion that That Guy was colorblind.
Yes, it was a surreal night.
