First of all, I realize that I’m more anxious than the average person, to put it mildly. I am enough in touch with how normal people think to understand that my reactions to things are a little over the top, but…I can’t currently help them, I can only work through them. I have always been high strung.
Second of all, I do not believe that all men are potential stalkers or rapists. I love men. 99.5% of the men I’ve met have been somewhere between mildly annoying and wonderful. It’s the other 0.5% that have made me wary. Combine that with a tendency toward anxiety and…yeah…
Thirdly, I know that I was overly passive at times throughout this story.
I think part of the difficulty was that I couldn’t quite figure out the “angle” beforehand. Was this supposed to be a friendly cultural-exchange lunch? A “getting to know you”? A “proto-date”? I think I have it finally figured out: RG wanted to get to know me (in a possibly “date-y” way) but didn’t feel confident in his English skills (he spoke almost no English the entire time, leaving me to get filled in by MMG) so he asked MMG to broker something. This explains the suddenness of the “extra-friendly” on their parts, I think.
As I said, I have issues getting into a car with two men I barely know, but I tamped them down, figuring the odds were on my side. (And they were, and continued to be.) But then, in an attempt to convenience me, they set me in the front seat and set my backpack in the back.
My backpack is my purse. I don’t care if you think it must be too heavy. If I couldn’t carry it, I wouldn’t. Unless you are a good friend or I am actively bleeding and/or on fire or I ask you to take it, DO NOT REMOVE MY BACKPACK FROM MY CONTROL. My reasons for feeling like this are slightly irrational and deeply personal, and I didn’t realize I felt so strongly this way until this man I didn’t entirely trust TOOK MY PURSE AWAY. breathe I think if he’d tried to put it in the trunk I would have just bolted. I did ask to keep it with me, but was…I dunno…brushed off?
Anyway, the restaurant was nice. We had Korean barbecue, which we grilled on the table (or rather, I watched them). Soju was ordered; I had already said I couldn’t drink it, but I did take my little glass, clinked, and then touched it to my lips and set it aside. They continued to drink it but, hey, they didn’t have to work.
The food was good, but unfortunately by this time I had worked myself into such a state I couldn’t eat much.
I did try a little bit of everything though. It was also hard to figure out what to talk about, so I tried to ask questions about the food and such. MMG did mention that they are both divorced: “Women hate us!” I have no response to that. Still.
A few further points:
*When I tell you I want to be a doctor, don’t ask me when I’m going to get married.
*Don’t be rude to the waitresses. One even turned to me, and said something to the tune of “That’s how Korean men are - tough,” but her face said she was making an excuse for him. I realize that languages like Chinese and Korean can sound strange and angry to English speakers, but the voice combined with gestures said “rude” to me.
*If I make a comment about how I think I need to eat smaller pieces of meat, please do not reach across the table while offering to cut it. I can take care of that myself thank you. I am 30, though sometimes I don’t feel it.
We only stayed about an hour. They drove me home, we shook hands, I said thank you very much.
I tried very hard to be polite and I feigned “small stomach” to excuse my small appetite. I think MMG figured out things were not going quite as planned and cut the excursion short, for which I am grateful.
I’m sure this makes me out to be a total bitch but I’m not, really! I’m even usually good at striking up conversations with strangers and making friends. Crap like this makes me really sympathize a little with agoraphobes, though.