Do You Have Sexy Pics: My Experience with Online Dating

I really can identify with N’s alcoholic post. I’m now an alcoholic too, and find various excuses to drink. The excuses are pretty tangible, I think. I’ve had a bad day at work. I’m stressed. I’m bored. I’m lonely. It’s so hot – nice day for a cold beer. It’s so cold and miserable – I need a drink to warm me up. This wine goes well with my dinner. It’s cheaper to buy a 6-pack than just one can. My coworkers drink, so it’s fine if I do. This beer might expire (I don’t know where I got that from).

One thing I’ve realised is that I have a terrible drunk-texting problem. Thanks to smartphones, we are connected to the world non-stop. As you know, we use Kakpraat often (note: we are not paid to advertise Kakaotalk haha…), and I’m constantly messaging people. BUT! As soon as I have a bit of liquor in me, I have to tell people “very important” shit – usually along the lines of “I’m drinking hahaha.” Poor N has been on the receiving end of my drunken rants. And…so have many guys. Guys that I have met and also strangers.

This is because another benefit of having a smartphone is that there’s an app for everything, including dating! Or “flirting” as the write-up says. Whatever! I signed up for one of those flirting/dating/friend-making/stalking/perving apps and filled out my profile half-heartedly. I’m still paranoid. Luckily my location is so random and lost, that the app has actually miscalculated where I am. Safe! And the people who live in my town generally don’t have smartphones cos we’re stuck in the 70’s and so I won’t accidently message my co-workers…safe!

Anyways I browsed some profiles. I love doing that. The guys’ profiles are so drastically different to girls’. We girls have to be sexy all the time, because no one is going to message a chick with a pineapple as her profile picture. No. These girls are hamming it up. The self-taken pics (“selcas”) taken from above so we can see the cleavage! A pic of just cleavage! The duck-face pout! A shitload of makeup! The five photo filters! And because I’m in Asia, lots of purikura! I then realised I could search for guys only, and checked out the dudes. Ah yes! They look so cool. There are lots with guys next to their cars. Some angry ones…actually a lot of angry ones. Why would someone want to message an angry person? Were they going for a Bruce Willis kinda vibe? No, no. And because I’m in Asia, lots of purikura! Yes, guys here take purikura too…manly purikura.

This cracks me up every time.

Then the messaging. Most guys start with “Hi”. Nothing wrong with that, that’s how we greet people. Some message in Japanese/Korean. Shamefully enough, I find my Korean ability to actually be better than my Japanese, so I put in some effort nonetheless. But regardless of nationality, there are creepers. At first I was scared/shocked/angry. Now it’s just hilarious.

There are the old guys. These guys think you’ll drop the panties when they say so, and I don’t bother responding to them. They are usually married. I get it…they’re looking for sexy times. No thanks.

Those usual ones who don’t bullshit around and start off saying they’d like some online fun times. Maybe accompanied by a dead arousing penis shot. Wooo! Delete. Similar to these are the chaps who will engage in small talk and BAM! Out of the blue they’ll say something like, “can I see a sexy pic?” or “I want to sex with you”. Who needs actual conversation when you have gems such as these? Gush. These guys I find actually try to negotiate with you when you say you’re not interested. And depending on how much I’ve had to drink, I will try reason with them. Something like this:

Guy: I want to sex with you. Can we meet?

Me: No, sorry

Guy: Please? I’ll teach you Korean

Me: Hahaha! Thanks, but I have a textbook.

Guy: When can we meet

Me: Why are you wanting to [erm] sex with someone from the internet? Can’t you find someone?

Guy: I have never been with a South African.

Me: Oh, I’m sure it’s not that different. Go out and find someone.

Guy: can we meet this weekend?

Now I see the irony of this. In one of my previous posts, I threw the idea around of asking a guy to sleep with me and seeing his reaction. The reason for that was because I thought there was going to be nuclear war! Okay, don‘t judge me! Unless these guys also think they’re going to die soon (which granted, they might) and now ok, I feel kind of bad for judging them.

There are also weirdos who don’t say anything wildly inappropriate…but who’re just boring. There was a guy who couldn’t think of anything to say besides “Hi” and “what u doing”.

However, I’ve had some good convos with guys on the app, also depending where I am. I usually end up listening to some people’s problems and giving advice. I guess they need to get their shit out.

I have met one guy in person. It was my first time doing that. I agreed to meet him because he was ridiculously funny, easy to talk to, didn’t hit on me and enjoyed k-pop. I didn’t care if he was gay or not, I just enjoyed chatting to him. So I met him in Busan. I was shit scared. But decided hey, this isn’t a date. We’re just going to hang out…and we did. It was a great evening, despite our initial awkwardness we ate delicious dinner, drove around listening to Big Bang (most awesome k-pop group ever), walked on the beach and looked at the lights…yes, it sounds extremely datey, doesn’t it. There were times when I had to catch myself and remember we had just met. But I think we were just comfortable. We still talk, and it’s a month later. Mainly just sending each other stupid .gifs.

Also, I told Princess about these apps a while back, and since she’s uploaded a Filtered Cleavage Pout pic, she gets lots of hits. She has also met some of these guys because they “talk everyday” and “have a connection”. She is by far the worst judge of character ever. Not that these guys were criminals or anything. One had no social skills but really wanted a “halfu” baby. Another “seduced” her by speaking Korean and Spanish, it was all so very romantic…and then buggered off to South America the next day. Next guy was probably the douchiest guy I’ve ever met in Korea/Japan (I was present when they met for the first time). And the last one seemed pretty decent (I was there again too, sigh) but never messaged again after meeting, except to say he got a job at Samsung.

I have since deleted the main app and my profile cos I was finding the people a bit too creepy for my liking. I’d find myself looking at all these people thinking, we’re in the same boat. We’re bored. We might not have the best social skills. I use my lonely location (and lack of people my age) as an excuse…but these people are within metres of each other and yet need to initiate conversation over an app. I guess these apps allow us be whoever we want to be…which is great and all, but in real life we don’t have filters.

I really hate men sometimes …

If you don’t feel like reading some bitch’s rant or hate speech towards men. You should stop reading this post… right now.

I must confess, I’m not too fond of the male population of late, but tonight was just the pits. So I love to meet some friends for dinner and drinks on a week night, to blow off steam. You na mean? Our conversations vary from work, travels, pop culture and dating.

I’m legally obligated not to be violent. Since your ass will be jailed if you hit or kick anyone, in Japan. But my friend made a comment that  made me almost backhand her. She said and I quote: “I can’t be picky with the guys I choose. I have to take what I can get.”

This just pissed me off. My friend is beautiful, funny and smart. Yes, she’s not a size zero. But fuck, I’m so tired of us (women) allowing society’s (society which is in fact: men) standards of beauty determine how we see ourselves. I want her to know that she is beautiful, and that she should value herself more, and go for the guy she wants. And not the first sleazebag that talks to her. I understand how she feels because I still struggle with this issue as well. Why don’t we as women value ourselves more?

So this got me thinking…

Why do men get to set the bar of what is hot or not?

Shouldn’t we as women set that bar?

It is our bodies!!!!

Is a size zero really that sexy?

When I developed breasts. Men just felt it was ok to be creepy. I remember an older man that was an uncle of a close friend, just ogling at me.

How could I ever forget those lust-filled eyes. His wife who was usually nice, began to act dismissive towards me. At that time I thought, so this is what its like to be an adult woman. You lose all sense of logic. Your husband is lusting after a fifteen year old child but instead of giving your husband a firm talking to, and protecting an innocent child, you choose to see that child as a threat. I knew that I didn’t want to grow up to be a woman like that, and I definitely didn’t want to marry a creep.

We need to know that we are worth more than that. I think it’s normal to feel attracted to someone of an appropriate age. And I plan to very much still check out Korean ass when I’m fifty and happily married. But you have to be respectful towards your significant other, and not drool all over yourself in front them. Decorum! You need to act appropriately.

Let’s go back in time. To the exact moment when I started hating myself. At thirteen, what did I know about the world? I was a blank page that thought life would be like the movies. One day, you see the boy of your dreams, magically one night you would confess your feelings, and he’d feel the same way too. You’d kiss and promise to be together forever. You’d graduated from university, and overnight you’d be the CEO of your own very successful company. I didn’t know what the company did, all I knew was that I was well off, and was getting married to the man of my dreams.

Puberty was seriously awkward. I had to accept that blood would be gushing from my vagina once a month. My hormones were all over the place, I would have a break out of zits on the day of the dance. I just started crying for no reason. And at my high school, the guys were real jerks.

One day while we were writing an essay or doing a worksheet or something. I don’t remember. It was about where we would be in ten years. I remember asking the teacher how to spell ‘fiancé’. And then some boy, I don’t remember his name or his face. Anyway, the little fucker burst out laughing and said, “Like you’d ever have a fiancé!” that was definitely the aha moment for me. It wasn’t a good one. It was the moment that I thought, “Ahh, I’m not pretty. So why would anyone want to marry me?” As I’m typing this post I’m searching my brain for his name, but honestly it’s not coming to me. I hated that boy for five years. I seriously hated him. I didn’t know why I hated him. I just did. And thought that every other male in my high school thought I wasn’t pretty or skinny enough to date.

Ironically, in my final year of high school, we worked backstage on the school play together. Once the play ended. He hooked his arm around my neck, and said to me and the rest of the backstage crew, “Are you ready for the after party?” I was livid. why was this arsehole touching me and acting all friendly, when we were mortal enemies. Then I had another aha moment: he didn’t remember what he said to me all those years ago. Back then, he was a stupid thirteen year old boy that didn’t really understand the gravity of his words. And I was suffering for the last five years for no reason. Instead of suffering, I should’ve just told him then and there while he was laughing at me to fuck off. Or just came up with a witty remark that would’ve made the class laugh at his stupidity.

I wish my mother encouraged me more to confess to boys. Rejection is part of growing up, and maybe back then the guy that I liked, possibly liked me back but I was just too indifferent to realise. But I guess she was too caught up in her divorce to notice that I was seriously fucked up about my body and boys. And I wish my father would’ve told me I was cute. If he did, maybe I would’ve believed it. Since he was the most important man in my life. I’m past my adolescent years where my parents were responsible for my wellbeing, so now I have to take full responsibility.

I’m not sure if my relationship with men got any better in university. I made many male friends. And started dating guys. Some were nice, but a little boring. One guy I used to liked for a while was really wishy washy about dating me and in the end called me a whore. And then there was him: I was in my last year of university sitting in the backseat of my friend’s car, and the guy I liked at that time was sitting beside me. He was a cold guy by nature. But I thought I made a breakthrough. Because he was sitting next to me. And he didn’t look disgusted. So that was a step in the right direction. Suddenly, he turned to face me, and looked me dead in the eyes, and said: “I like flat-chested girls”.

I was gutted. You’re confused, I know. Let me explain, I’m a little or should I say alotta gifted in the breast department. Thus, he was saying indirectly that I was not his type. Back then, young north was naive, cried herself to sleep that night. Not knowing that she had just been wronged. Where have their (men) manners gone? If a girl likes you, and she has yet to confess her feelings. You have no right to reject her. Yes, it might be awkward when she’s being Bella from twilight, breathing heavily in your ear, or watching you from around the corner.

But as a gentleman you endure. And when she finally gathers her courage, and confesses. As a gentleman, you put her down gently. And lie. Firstly, you thank her for her confession. And tell her that her feelings make you happy. But unfortunately, your heart belongs to another. Why do men need to make us cry? I get that rejection sucks, no matter what you say. But some guys are real douchebags about it.

Talking about douchebags. I think I’ve met the king of all douchebags. I really didn’t want to write about this. But… its time.

One morning while sitting on the curb in front of a konbini in Osaka. This was 8am, and I was eating my breakfast, waiting for my friend who needed to use the loo. A man walked by and looked at me strangely, but I was completely used to people staring at me by now.

I am a foreigner living in Japan, you know. So I didn’t really pay too much attention to him. After ten minutes he returned. Walking with purpose towards me. He said, in Japanese of course, very enthusiastically that I had large breasts. At that point, I was ready to cut a bitch. This fucker thought it was ok to approach me and disrespect me.

He didn’t stop. I pretended that I didn’t understand Japanese. Then he said in Japanese, “oh, you don’t speak Japanese.” so he changed tactics, he gestured showing that I had large breast. I said no, and tried to shoo him away. Then he said: touch, touch. Suggesting that he’d like to touch my breasts. Shocked, I said no. This guy was persistent, he then said, “Touch me”. I said no. then “suck…suck”. I got the feeling that he learnt a few English words from porn.

“No!”

“Sex?”

“No. just go!”

And so he left.

I don’t know what the fuck was going through that bastard’s mind. Thinking that I’d lie on my back in a cheap hotel with an ass like him. Do men no longer respect women? Or did they just never respect us at all. We are only their whores, baby makers, and are meant to wait for them as they search the streets for their next lay? I was ready to lay my best fighting technique I picked up from street fighter, shoryuken, on him.

How dare he make me feel so cheap? How dare he not respect me? I was pissed that after believing that I’m so strong, I was so weak in that moment. When I told my friend about it, she said I should’ve given him a taai klap (a slap in the face). I was just shocked that he had the audacity to do what he did out in the open, with so many people watching. Even if I did punch or kick him, I’d probably be convicted for violence, even though it was in self defence. I don’t think I’d ever felt as far from home as I did that day. And yet, I’m not sure if I would’ve reacted any differently back home．

After the ordeal I told one of my Japanese friends, and she confessed that a similar incident happened to her. How many more women are there that have shared our experiences or have had worse done to them? Why was it ok, for men to make you feel dirty and worthless? Women! We need to empower ourselves. We should learn self defence.

And the laws need to be changed. We need to take harassment more seriously. Our governments should punish these individuals that think its ok to harass unwilling participants. And I believe that rapists and child molesters should serve at least twenty years in prison.

Do you understand why I occasionally hate men? I think they’re lovely to look at, but they just know how to piss me off, especially when they suggest women are the weaker sex. We are strong too you know. So what if I’m scared of spiders. There is nothing wrong with preferring not to be within a five meter radius of one. So yes, I would like my father to kill them for me. And now that I live on my own, I have to kill spiders that get in the way of my happiness. I can do it for myself. But do I want to kill spiders? No, I don’t. Would I like someone else to do it for me? Yes, I do. I don’t care if you’re a man, woman or alien. I just hate spiders, and wished they didn’t exist. Does that make me a weak woman, no its makes me human.

Back to my friend. I hate that she’s beating herself about guys not liking her back but maybe he doesn’t like peas! After crying about some boy my sister gave me some good advice. I didn’t understand it at the time but now being older and a little wiser. It makes more sense. I know that this is a very hard concept to  understand. But just think about it logically. What food don’t you like? Well, I don’t like peas, I can’t stand that shit. And I’m quite relieved that you won’t find that shit in Japanese dishes.

Let’s say that people are food. Maybe to him you are peas. And that has nothing to do with you. He just doesn’t like peas. So whenever the guy I like rejects me, I cry myself to sleep for a few nights, and then I just tell myself that he just doesn’t like peas. And that’s ok. I’m going to wait for someone that likes peas. I don’t want one that’s dreaming of strawberries, when I’m just mushy peas. But if I were a food, I wouldn’t be peas. They taste disgusting. I wouldn’t mind being pumpkin. *drool*. Roasted chicken, and potatoes, with a side of rice, and a dollop of pumpkin. Yum! I miss Sunday lunch.

If I could give advice to young north, I’d say: don’t wear short skirts. If people around you can easily see your knickers. It is too short! What is wrong with wearing a skirt/ dress that is five centimetres above your knee. If you like that short length, wear leggings. They’re both appropriate and fashionable. Why do you need to demean yourself by wearing ridiculously short skirts? For who? Boys? Love yourself more. Laugh more. Be silly. And I’d tell her to be brave. If you like someone, become his friend first. First check if he’s a nice guy. Then, Confess. If you’re rejected, at least you had the balls, unlike most adults, to go for what you want.

Right now, I don’t hate men. I just don’t trust a large faction of them. What I realised is that stupid boys grow up into stupid men. Your happiness should not be wavered by their words. You need to love yourself first. Every morning, stand in front of your mirror, and look at that face looking back at you and truly believe that she (YOU) is beautiful.

S&N in Seoul: We liked it

South: We’re back, babydolls. Back from our Seoul adventure. We didn’t die, and we’re back at work! Yay…! Actually, we didn’t just get back now, cos that would mean we had a rather long holiday. We’ve just been a bit delayed.

So since North and I happened to hang out together in Seoul, we decided to do a joint post on our experience. Kind of like one of those story continuing games.

So we decided to hang up our Homosexuality Cloak in favour of celebrating the “hottie motherland” as North calls it. I’ve only been there once before, but Seoul was still as crazy, busy, and pungent as I remembered.

North: Yay! Finally North and South could meet in the hottie motherland! I had a flashback of being in Seoul and my eyes just jizzed… It was so strange to give up the cloak after being homosexual for a whole month. But that was the pact we made: be gay until Seoul and then decide what we will do next. Even though I was no longer gay, I found myself being very homosexual. Here was my chance to break all the rules. It just felt so wrong to do something so right. And who wouldn’t appreciate some fine Korean ass. On the first day together, South took me to a Korean chicken restaurant (warning: there’ll be a lot of eating mentioned in this piece), where we ate chicken and got very drunk while watching Korean asses from the terrace.

S:  Ah yes! N was a chicken-soju virgin. That was rectified rather quickly. I couldn’t let Korea pass by without my chingu having the chickenofthegods.

Maybe I hyped it up too much. If you haven’t experienced Korean chicken (yangnyeom chicken) before, accompanied by some soju (rice alcohol), then you haven’t lived. I actually quite enjoyed watching N enjoying the chicken. I love taking people out for chicken. Is that creepy?

N: Definitely creepy. South was like, no, you eat. But that little perv probably liked watching me eat. Is it weird that I wasn’t creeped out at all? Maybe I like being watched. Does that make me a creepy pervert too? But that chicken was damn good. I always eat ze chicken. South was all like, “we need to pregame”. I didn’t know what the hell S was going on about. At that point, I was pretty much buzzed from the soju, and was drunkenly convinced by S to get my ears pierced. I’m not sure what came first: eating a waffle or the piercing.

S: The piercing came first, yes. Actually, N didn’t need that much convincing. I believe some people need that little push. She went past the piercing place faffing and going, “hoo hoo I want to get my ears pierced but…” and I just said, “Well, do it!” There you go. The piercing girl was pretty voes. In South African slang or whatever we speak, that means she was pretty ballsy and took no bullshit, despite her being half our size. She instructed me to sit next to North for support, and I did in fear of her accidently-on-purpose prodding me with the huge needle she was brandishing.

Is it bad I don’t remember what really happened after that and the waffle? Oh, maybe we went to Ho Bar(s)! Contrary to what you might think, the Ho Bar chain isn’t exactly where you go get dem ho’s or something. Although Korea’s got Ho’s in different area codes. No seriously, there are so many Ho Bars. And we might have gone to all of them in one area.

N:  Yes, I remember the chick that pierced my ears. She was really bossy: “You! Sit there!” all forceful. If I were an actual homosexual, I think I would’ve liked that. I think I did like that, along with S watching me eat. I think I was really drunk and horny, and if I had a few tequila shots I would have been a real Ho Bar ho. S and I literally jumped from one Ho Bar to the next, and they all played the same kak electronic techno music. How the fuck do you dance to that kak? But we did eventually settle at a nice Ho Bar… wait…

S: Ooh. The first reason we settled at this Ho bar was because they were playing some hip hop. We felt like Goldilocks after testing the three bear’s beds. The second reason was we were quite happy drunk by this time and maybe we didn’t feel like aimlessly wandering around much. And the third, due to my drunkenness was that I fell in love with our waiter.

N: Is it just me or are Koreans really touchy-feely or have I been in Japan for too long? I’m also all about people keeping their distance. But that waiter was all over S – “Can I take your order?” one hand was on her shoulder, and the other was on her hand. I’m sorry, that’s a sign in the Western dating world. And that means that you want me. Kekeke! but I figure it’s all part of service in Korea, where these guys are part waiter, part host. And what a nice host he was. We didn’t order from anyone else except him all night. And S drooled as she watched him wash dishes.

Oh, lordy lord…

S: The drool on the table didn’t only belong to me, N. That sounds gross. Maybe Ho Bar is short for Host Bar. But yes, him washing dishes was way sexy. He was very thorough, as we could see from our prime vantage point. Host or not, I loved his touchiness, the fact that he had to come super close to talk because of the loud music, the way he touched my hand and said, “wait…” and how he’d stand casually with his hand resting on my chair. This all sounds incredibly cheesy, but let him be hosty…I didn’t care. I was drunk and in my head he was super into me and had happy pants thoughts every time we ordered from him. Let a girl dream. I remember drunkenly stumbling home saying to North, “tomorrow I’m going BACK and telling him I LOVE him!” North was encouraging, the way drunk friends are. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

N: It’s true. I too drooled on the table. I never thought I’d say it but I wanted to take him home so I could watch him wash my dishes. And I’d ask him to wash them slowly. Being the good chingu that I am, I stopped looking at what belonged to S. And ate some chips instead.

While lunching at a South African restaurant, I found my Park Chop. I’m twirling my hair and biting my lip as I type this. He was beautiful, a vision, the main chef of the establishment. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he mashed those potatoes.

When he asked us how the food was, I almost asked if I could take him home with me. Sigh. I feel like Kristen Stewart doing that creepy loud breathing, but I just can’t stop. A young SK guy that spoke English with an SA accent but who was born and raised in Seoul. And he had the cutest smile. Gush. Have we reached that age? You know… the settling down phase. We genuinely found these domestic guys… sexy. Yes, we hate washing dishes and love lamb chops very much. So they would be an asset in our lives. But it’s too early…. I’m still in my party years.

S: Remember that post about chocolate cake? Lamb chops are the new chocolate cake. I want to make a t-shirt. Sorry vegetarians, but yes, we were the hungry girls drooling over delicious, juicy, perfectly braaied (barbequed, to non Saffas) flavourful lamb chops. We might be guilty of objectifying poor unassuming guys, but really, we mean no harm. N took extra long paying at the till because her Lamb Chop came over to chat. She was spazzing out. Leaving was hard…we do miss good Saffa chow. And that night we decided to…guess what? You got it. Eat. Drink. And go clubbing.

N:  Yo, South, I’m really happy for you. I’m going to let you finish….but how the eff did we skip an entire day. Yes, I know that that chop making machine had an amazing smile that just reeled you in, but we didn’t talk about the best Korean BBQ we’ve ever had. That place was the bomb. We spent the night with our friends; one got so wasted on soju and posed for the best photobomb of all time. I still laugh at that pic whenever I scroll through my camera roll. After that we went to Ho Bar again. I know…but that place works for us. So after standing in the queue for twenty minutes one of the waiters walks up to our very white friend and says, “sorry, Koreans only”. My friend was livid. Being Saffas, South and I were like, whatever….but fuck. That just cock-blocked South. That was the “Just-wait” bar. There was a dishwasher that needed to be confessed to.

S: I didn’t mention this earlier cos it was a sore subject. There wasn’t just a mere wall separating me from my dishwasher…it was race. And a whole line of people ahead of us. Anyway, my heart will go on and on…you know? I crumpled up my love confessional speech I’d prepared (joking…) and we trudged off to some other bars, got more drunk…and ended up at some clubs. Our poor friends couldn’t make it beyond the first club and had an adventurous walk back to our hostel, but N and I chose to club hop.

Here are some facts about dancing/clubbing in Korea:

• Koreans have a set dance. They move with the times and everyone dances in a similar fashion. Right now it seems to be a combo of the Harlem Shake and shuffle and maybe some air-humping.

• You WILL hear Gangnam Style/Gentleman at least twice. Just go with it.
• Creepy people exist everywhere and you might find yourself recognizing the same weirdos standing near you as you move around the club. Usually people who look like you and feel you have a connection.
• Dancing with a group of strangers is perfectly ok, especially if you’re a foreigner. It’s like socializing with no speaking except yelling parts of the song’s chorus at each other.
• Club and bar bathrooms in Korea are absolutely gross. You have been warned.

N: All bathrooms in Korea are gross, but the bar/club bathrooms are the pits. And that smell remains in your nose for weeks. Never leave your friends to order drinks and head to the loo. because when you get back, there will be a bottle of Jagermeister on the table. I have no idea what South and our friends were thinking. I can’t believe that I didn’t barf after that bottle. As I said before, we’ve all leveled up to super saiyans.

I happen to like Korean dancing. They looked all crazed. It reminds me a bit of Fatboy Slim’s video of “Push the Tempo”. Their dancing is all jerky. Kkkkk. So there was a lot of dancing, and then we had to head back to the hotel because our feet were wrecked. I limped all the way back.

We probably looked like this.

Oooooooohhhh. And South showed me amazing don’t-get-a-hangover-the-next-day technique. It was this tiny bottle of unicorn elixir. The next day I felt like I hadn’t drank at all the previous night. Miracles do exist in tiny bottles.

S: And in tiny glasses too…shot glasses. Shot glasses you pour soju into. You see how all of this is good? The remainder of our trip was basically made up of more eating/drinking, and last minute shopping in too-bright sunlight the next day before heading our separate ways.

All in all, it was good to meet N again, share some jokes, get weird, stuff faces, and just let things go for a few days. Let’s just say when I came back, I had Holiday Brain for a while after that. I was still bopping along to bad house music in my head, still a bit hungover and could still smell those amazing lamb chops (although I still reckon Busan is better).

And that’s where I conclude my account of this delightful experience!

N: Seoul is really the wind beneath my wings. Not really, but I love perving on your men, Seoul. They are well-dressed, don’t look girly, and they’ve got…you know, swagger.

I really will miss the city life, the coffee shops, those corn dogs that were made of fries, the vendors selling toppoki. And I’ll especially miss being in the same city as B.A.P. Yes, they were in Japan just the other day but with my luck the tickets were sold out within seconds. It you are listening, B.A.P, we’d like to get tickets to see you live! It doesn’t have to be in Japan, anywhere in the world will work for me. Doraemon, can I borrow your dokodemo door, so I can go back to Seoul whenever I feel lonely?