“Daniel Henney-Hot” — A New Way of Labelling
My friend seems to think that I’m the right sort of “challenge” that her brother’s looking for — I was kind of insulted.
What was she implying? That I was like every other high maintenance Asian bitch that he’d ever gone out with? Slightly psycho and clingy?
Okay — I know that’s not what she was implying. She thinks I’m the sort of girl he should settle down with because I’m enough of a “challenge”, in that I wouldn’t be glued to his side all the time and I wouldn’t be letting him pull any bullshit on me.
But still…I know the kind of girls he dates and to be lumped into that group? No thanks.
Her brother’s the kind of guy who knows he’s good-looking and who can get any girl he wants. And even though he’s only a year younger than us, I’ve always thought of him as a little kid.
Every time I’ve been over at their place, he’s been like this overexcited child — this loud talker who makes a big deal out of everything.
I used to think he was cute — not in a “Oh, aren’t you precious?” cute, but in an “I concede that many woman find you attractive” cute.
What’s not to like?
For an Asian guy, he’s really easy on the eyes. Almost, but not quite, Daniel Henney-hot.
Maybe more Takeshi Kaneshiro-hot.
Okay. Why don’t I like this guy, again?
Oh, right. Because I’m not a complete superficial cow. And also…isn’t there a bit of weirdness in dating a friend’s brother? What if things don’t work out? I mean, it’s all nice and fine when your friend is already racing ahead with fantasies of how you could be her future sister-in-law, but what if things don’t work out? Do you wind up losing a friend in the process?
Maybe I think too much about what happens in the event that things go badly.
In this week’s installment of pathetic things I’ve done…I found a letter I wrote to my ex shortly after he told me he’d been cheating on me.
I was embarrassed when I read the letter — this is the kind of thing I do when I’m bored. I write stupid letters — sometimes, I manage to recover enough of my senses not to send it. Instead, I keep them locked away in a drawer only to discover them later on.
I wonder why I don’t have the heart to throw them away.
It’s painful reading those letters.
I came across this postcard on Post Secret quite awhile ago. I could have very easily made this card:
I think most of the bitterness has faded…though, when I found out he was engaged to the 21-year-old, it reared its ugly head again.
The Best Friend said she understood. She feels the same way about her ex.
“Is it bad that I want something horrible to happen to him? Like that his house burns down?” she asked.
“Um, hello. You’re asking the wrong person. I wanted that Fuck Face to get an STD,” I replied. And then sounding very much like Al Bundy when he did that cameo in Wayne’s World, I added, “I just want to rip out his heart so he can see how shrivelled up and black it is.”
But like I said, the bitterness has subsided. Honest.
In the car the other day, the new single by Maroon 5 came on and the key words that caught my attention were:
And it really makes me wonder
If I ever really gave a fuck about you…
I’ve been here before
One day a week
And it won’t hurt anymore
Another friend who broke up with her boyfriend two months ago, was wondering how long it’d take to get over him — why she couldn’t seem to let go and why she was always thinking about their ideal beginning.
“It’s because you thought he was ‘the one’. When you haven’t dated in awhile because you’ve been waiting for someone you really connect with, you start thinking the first guy who comes along who you spark with is ‘the one’ — even if he might not be. And as soon as those words: ‘the one’ creep into your head, you’re basically screwed.”
That’s the problem with us women. We get too caught up in the notion of “the one.”
My friend, the Nurse, was flipping through some pictures in my photo album yesterday and she came across one of me and Jim.
“You guys look like brother and sister,” she commented.
I was kind of grossed out. “Gee. Thanks. That’s what every girl wants to hear.”
“No, it’s a good thing,” she insisted, saying that in the Filippino culture, the more a couple looks like each other, the higher the chances they’ll wind up together.
I held up one hand to stop her. “Don’t even go there. You’ll just convince me that Jim’s ‘the one.’”
Another friend, The Teacher, thinks that most Asian guys are just shy. Well, except for her brother, who, being almost Daniel Henney-hot, can get any girl he wants. The rest of the Asian guys, however, fall into that sad dating wasteland known as “The Valley of the Insecure.”
She thinks Jim’s just one of those shy guys.
I don’t know.
I think if a guy likes you, he’ll let you know in some shape or form…that’s how I know that my friend, The German, likes me. But because I’ve long-since lumped him in the “friends” category, I cheerfully play the role of the oblivious girl who misconstrues every hint and just treats him like the buddy that I see him as.
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