I wonder about love.

On Tuesday, I could not bear my solitude any longer. I called the friend that lives the closest to me. He lives in an apartment I found for him. I decided when they were looking for an apartment, that they needed to live, close to me. So, when I got frustrated at home. I could run away. I had been wanting to run away for years. Not from my home. I quite like my apartment. It was the apartment that spared me disappointment for a while. It was the apartment and the cats.

So, I threw on some jeans, a Sesame Street T-shirt, and my iPod. I plunged down my building in the wood-paneled elevator. I walked through my building’s lobby. Threw quick, nod, wave to my doorman. I was out the door on the street walking through the tree-lined vista of, Victoria Park. The park at night, is very pleasant. There are people playing games. Old people doing Tai Chi, Kung Fu, and getting food reflexology. Old men in wife beaters drinking Blue Girl, or Pabst Blue Ribbon. Lovers canoodling, on benches. Stray cats being fed by volunteers from the animal rescue programs. I like the park at night. It is very weird after being in America for most of my life, that I can walk across the park at night and not end up dead.

I get to my friend’s house. I need a drink. I am allergic to wine. So, I take out a bottle of Japanese Liquor and plead for a glass of ice. My friend and I discuss my current situation. I explain, while sipping the sweet liquor.  The newest ways, I am screwed, getting screwed, and not getting screwed. I vent my frustrations, while clinking the ice in the glass.

The liquor is not strong, and is welcome. It is orange in color, derived from quinces. I do not know, what a quince is when, not distilled. I decided as long, as I am not allergic to it. It really, does not matter. I drink. We have a cheeky cigarette on the balcony. We debate on where we are going to dinner.  We decide that we are not feeling, too fussy. So, we proceed to Causeway Bay’s finest establishment, Burger King.

My friend is also from, Texas. He’s from a tiny town, next to a small town, that is next to, Houston. He is going there next month with his long-term boyfriend. The boyfriend has never been to the tiny town. My friend is worried. The boyfriend, is a fussy spouse. He needs constant reinforcement. He is overwhelmingly, ambitious. He has a high-profile job. Because of HK, he is burning himself, at both ends. To feed his, ego.  The trip to Texas, is being marketed, to him as a holiday.

My friend and I both know, that going to a tiny town in Texas. With your same-sex Taiwanese partner is no, holiday. We discuss the tiny town. It is very conservative. It has segregated churches. It’s biggest claim to fame, is a huge Wal-Mart. The tiny town offers no future, for my friend. He wonders what will become of them, in the week that they are there. I shrug.

So, then the line of questioning turns, back, to me. What am I going to do? I go over the current situation very, casually. I am in Hong Kong, there are jobs. There are lots of exciting things going on, economically. For right now, this is the center of the world. Of course, to live in the center of the world, costs something. Right now, I am paying for it. I am paying very cruel and usual currencies. I am giving up the any shot at true love (If, that in fact, exists.)

My friend pointed out, I had never voiced concern about it, before. I explain that being married, has nothing to do with that. I married for a number of reasons. None of them, involved true love.  I had not really thought much of love.  I was just looking for  a HIV negative, non-asshole, without any addictions, and a good education. Who was immune to my family. Sane enough, to raise children.  It did not, factor in to me. So, I got the not advertised shit.

With legal documents in place, the repeated destruction the gulf coast, and death of my Grandma. I realized far too late, I was trapped.  I attempted to make the best of things.  Grown women suck up disappointment, on a regular basis. It is a well known fact of life.

So, I took my five years, as a lady. I dealt with problems. I was forgiving. I was honest. I was wise. I was compassionate. I was a real woman. Not a girl playacting at being, a wife. But, a very real wife.The catch was, I was not married, to a husband. I was married to a frat boy, a john, a man-child, and a tourist. My experiences  have trained me to hate those people. Frat boys, are to be sent off, to their disgusting fraternities. Johns should be, stolen from. Man-children, should be left to cry, alone. Tourists, people, who want to pay something. To see you, in your ethnic setting. Watching you do, ethnic things can go fuck themselves.

At night, when he would roll home drunk. High on the admiration of men, like a frat boy. Proclaiming, that he owned me like, a john. Crying, about mean people, hurting him, like a child.  Whining, about the injustices, done upon him, by local people of foreign lands. Because, he was a tourist.  Informed me that I, was a black bitch, and had to fuck him.

I went to bed.

I wondered, every time. Should I have factored in, true love?


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