Close Your Legs to Married Men

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a mediocre compliment, must be in want of the V.

Okay, maybe not every single man; quite often they’re actually taken.

Let’s backtrack, people.

The year was 2015. Or rather, is 2015. I’m trying to get my chill on by playing a few rounds of Trivia Crack because I freaking love trivia. I go to bars specifically on trivia nights so I can dominate until any sports question comes up, at which point I fail faster than ARod at a urine test or something. I’m in the zone, answering trivia questions like I just can’t stop. Then, out of a nowhere, my opponent messages me. I wasn’t even aware you could message on the app.

Before I continue, let me just say, I try to be nice to everyone. You never know what horse shit someone is in the middle of dealing with and I’m not trying to make anybody feel worse about themselves. Unfortunately, being nice backfires once in a while and you end up with your friend’s brother drunkenly sending dick pics to your phone. Why. Just, why.

Anyway, I’m basically trashing this person at trivia. I’m just whopping their ass. So when they message me with “you’re pretty good at this game,” I think “fuck yeah I am” but I say something humble like “oh I just know a bunch of useless information.” It’s what my mother would have wanted. The two of us chat a little; I’m literally talking about the weather because I’m trying to stay in as neutral of a situation as possible. But then he slips in a compliment. And I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they didn’t slip right into my brain. I assume that he thought my silence meant that he had completely swept me off my feet because he continues messaging me with some really corny verbal garbage. At one point he said “I’m attracted to intelligent women and I know you’re intelligent based on your game stats.” My. Game. Stats. Just because I know Hermione Granger’s second favorite color doesn’t actually mean I’m intelligent. It means I have a problem.

Anyhow, here is where I go on my “I’m so flattered but I have a boyfriend blah blah blah” spiel. And you know what this fucker responds with? “I’m actually married. But I like to flirt. I won’t compliment you anymore. Emoji.”

EXCUSE ME.

As my sister always advises: “Close your legs to married men.” Can I get an amen. Except now I have to close my damn trivia legs. I just wanted to enjoy some trivia.

After that comment, I patiently explained that I do not flirt with married men under any circumstances. (Unless it’s Brian Williams of NBC Nightly News. But I’ve already discussed that with my boyfriend and he is my hall pass. That married man can get it, that’s all I’m saying.) And then the asshole, who hasn’t gotten one question right ALL GAME, magically gets EVERY question right and beats me. That cheating little slimeball. How dare he.

There are just no platonic zones left. I understand when I’m in a club or bar setting. Getting hit on or complimented there, while unwelcome, is unavoidable. That’s why I’ve decreased my visits to such places. But on an app? This isn’t Tinder. Get it together.

I’m not saying all women object to being hit on and I’m certainly not saying all men hit on women with wild abandon. What I am saying is it gets really old really quickly. If I’m completely honest, being complimented once in a while is nice. It’s like BAM I STILL GOT IT. But not when it happens in the grocery store, on the street, in a restaurant, while I’m walking to get the mail, or when I’m just trying to blow off steam playing trivia. Most of the time, I ignore it and continue with my life. But guess what, you can ignore a mosquito bite all you want but it’s still going to fucking itch.

Bout of Books 12: Day 2, 3, 4, and 5?

I have been slacking. And in a misguided attempt to rectify my slacking-ness, I’m going to offer this corny joke.

What’s a vampire’s favorite fruit?

If you guessed NECTARINES, you’d be correct, my friend. It brings my heart unparalleled joy that such jokes exist in this world.

Anyway, returning to the subject at hand, I’ve managed to make pretty significant progress in my read-a-thon goodness. I finished Big Little Lies (Liane Moriarty) and it was MARVELOUSSS. Just marvelous, darling. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d enjoy it quite as much as I did. But I loved it. So everyone go out and read it today and we can all gush about how it’s just so MARVELOUSSSS.

I’ve also started The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August (Claire North) and I’m about 25% through. This book has been a little harder to love. It’s about a man named Harry August who is continually reborn. He literally dies and goes right back to being an infant, except he remembers all the details of his past life. It’s a little like Life After Life by Kate Atkinson but, in my opinion, not as good. I feel a little bad saying this, but I’m seriously not feeling the first-person point of view narrative of this book. Shallow, right? I’m not sure exactly why it’s bothering me, but it makes me want to grind my teeth. Otherwise, it’s been a pretty good read so far. But if I were to pick, I’d definitely read Life After Life instead. Just sayin’.

The read-a-thon only has a day or two left (I struggle with keeping track of my days) and I’m pretty satisfied with my progress. Abner, I hope you’re enjoying your book! (White Teeth, was it? I’m going to look into that next). I’ve got a couple of Gillian Flynn books coming in next week so hopefully I’ll keep this book-reading momentum going.

Adios for now, my comrades!

Nn

Bout of Books 12 Read-a-Thon

HI ABNER!

I’m not sure when you’re going to read this BUT I’m taking part in this read-a-thon which sounds super fun and will definitely encourage me to finish some of the books I’ve had laying around gathering dust.

What is this read-a-thon you ask? WELL:

The Bout of Books read-a-thon is organized by Amanda @ On a Book Bender and Kelly @ Reading the Paranormal. It is a week long read-a-thon that begins 12:01am Monday, January 5th and runs through Sunday, January 11th in whatever time zone you are in. Bout of Books is low-pressure. There are challenges, giveaways, and a grand prize, but all of these are completely optional. For all Bout of Books 12 information and updates, be sure to visit the Bout of Books blog. – From the Bout of Books team

I’m hoping to read 3 to 4 books during this week. I’m about 75% through The Ice Cream Queen of Orchard Street so I’m a little bit ahead of the game. I’m also hoping to read The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August (Claire North) and Big Little Lies (Liane Moriarty).

SO! I’m super excited and I hope you’ll join me! 😀 LET THE READING COMMENCE!

Word.

Where are you from?

Well, I was born and raised (for the most part) in the U.S. I am a citizen here. I have lived most of my life here. I’ve watched Jersey Shore and I love Happy Meals. I’ve voted.

Okay you know what I mean, where are you really from? Where are you parents from?

I wish this scenario hasn’t played out as often in my life as it has. But it is an occurrence frequent enough that I have to really wonder: is it difficult to assume that I am American? I am not ashamed that I am of Chinese descent. I am extremely proud of it. However, when you straight up ask me where I’m from, I’m going to respond with the same answer every single time. I was born in West Virginia. I am from America. This is my home.

Unfortunately that answer has never sufficed. So why not just ask me what my ethnic background is? Because essentially that’s what you want to know, right? You don’t really care that I’m American. In your eyes, I am Asian first. Why? Why am I complimented on my English? I was born in this country, I would hope I spoke English just as well as anyone else born in this country. It is difficult not to feel like a perpetual foreigner in this country when so often, that is exactly how I am treated. I am not viewed as American.

That’s not to say I’m treated rudely or unfairly in this country. I have always been met with kindness. Because of that, I have never taken offense to these questions. I know in most cases, nobody means to offend. I understand that I do not look like the “average” American. I am different. I embrace that.

However, can you imagine if African-Americans were questioned in this way? Where are you from? New York. No but where are you REALLY from? Kenya? Zimbabwe? Djibouti? Wat.

Look, it’s absolutely okay to wonder about someone’s heritage. America is, of course, a melting pot. We have representatives from every nation in the world living here. It is what makes this country as freakin’ awesome as it is.  However, the questions become tiresome. You see, I get asked this all the time. When I meet someone new, there’s always at least a 50% chance they’ll ask me. And that’s in Florida. In West Virginia? More like 95% chance. I have high hopes that this will eventually fade away as Asian-Americans become more prominent in this country. Perhaps in the next generation, these instances will be rare.

However, until then: if you want to know what kind of Asian I am (because really that’s exactly what you want to know) you’re honestly not going to win any favors from me by disguising the question in a “where are you from” format. At least not if you follow up my answer with “you know what I meant, I want to know where you’re REALLY from.” The truth of the matter is I am from here. Land of the free, home of the brave. Despite my skin color and the shape of my eyes, I will always be from here. This is my country, this is my home. So next time you hear me respond with “I’m from America,” feel free to say “That’s awesome. Are you a first-generation American? Or..?” And I promise you I will smile and say “Yes, I am a first-generation Chinese-American.”