My life is a chick flick

In an unexpected turn of events, it would seem my life has been plagiarized from the script of a stereotypical chick flick.

Thursday Tracie took me to Manhattan's, the foreigners' bar across the street from my place. The music was good, the atmosphere was nice; I decided to return the next day because Tracie had other plans. The owner told me the place is hoppin' on Friday nights, so I looked forward to meeting people.

Friday night I arrived about 10:45 and the place was dead, and no one seemed to know why. I ordered a delicious, girlicious cocktail, watched people play darts, and made small talk with my bartender, Kai. I remembered that I am very introverted and terrible at meeting new people and buckled down for a dull, albeit delicious, evening.

Nearly an hour later, Kai introduced me to a Korean guy who had just walked in and sat two seats down from me at the bar. I slid over and started chatting with him. His name is Leo, and his friend bailed on him for the night. We ended up talking for the rest of the evening.

Aside: The bartenders put on a show of juggling booze bottles in the air and with sparklers lit inside them, and the owner did a bit of fire breathing. I LOVE this bar. And it would seem I'm a lush by Korean standards, as Leo was very concerned for me after my second drink. (Though it was really my third and I was feeling just fine.)

Leo recommended some places to see while I'm in Korea and offered to show me some of the best local cuisine. (I haven't gone to eat by myself because I hate fish and, frankly, am terrified of Korean food.) At one point in the evening, he said something I couldn't hear above the din except for the words "you" and "girlfriend." I smiled and nodded, because that's what you do when you can't hear someone in a bar, right?

Anyway, we exchanged info and decided to see 2012 Sunday. He picked me up and opened the door for me (he has a nice car but owning a car in Korea is like owning one in NYC- he searched 20 minutes for parking at the theater). I enjoyed the movie, and then we went for a late dinner of chicken and stuff. He gave me a proper lesson on the use of chopsticks, no easy feat considering my left-handedness. (I have been considering starting a web series called "Moniqa & Chopsticks. Comedy Gold, I assure you.)

Then he went to feed me the first bite when our chicken was ready. Really freaking weird in my book. But I suppressed the mental freak out, reminded myself he likes me and is being sweet, lots of people do that, I'm cool, I'm cool, just gonna go with it. (I am SO good at acting gracious.)

After dinner, he was kind enough to show me where the post office is that I've been trying to find for a month. Yay! (Gifts will be en route this week, dear friends.) And that was that. He works in Seoul all week, so we're going to do something next weekend.

Now what you've all been waiting for: Is he cute? Um, sure, I dunno. He's nice but I'm feeling nothing more than enjoyment of good company and conversation, and thrilled someone wants take me out and show me around. (This is par for the course for me. I think I can still count on one hand the number of men I've known whom I liked as more than friends.) What does he do? Um, businessman-y stuff. He told me the details but I have a habit of zoning out when men talk about their dull office jobs. (God, I can be vapid.) He spent some time in Australia studying English and is now learning Japanese. How old is he? I actually didn't ask because he didn't ask me. I think he's on facebook, though, so I'll track him down and delete this note before friending. Read it while you can!

I feel like I'm blending in with the locals. You know, except for being white. I expect my family and friends to be overjoyed when they read this. When was the last time I had any proper fodder for girl talk? Lulz. None of it's really a big deal. I just had such a bad and lonesome week and such a nice time this weekend at a few events that I felt the need to share the good bits so everyone knows I'm doing fine.