Ready for some serious oversharing?

Cuz this is the only place I can really do that, plus I don't have to worry about editing or thematic continuity.

I sit here at my computer filled with a joy so calm and deep that it can only be called love. I have a hot mug of Chamomile tea. I am listening to Itunes on Shuffle, and Phil Collins just came on. I got that song from Robert, a fact that I mention lest you think I have gotten too much over him.

This weekend was filled with reasons to love life in general, and Korea in particular. On Friday, three other teachers and I had our debut performance as a barbershop quartet, something I have wanted to be in since the sixth grade, and never done until now. We then went together to a show, adorned by the company of the most charming old bird at the school. Her name is Anne, and she reminds me of my dear dead gramma, not because of any similarity whatever, but simply because she is an old broad who adores me. I ordered the tickets over the phone in Korean, so the trip was a bit of an adventure. I may well have misunderstood the directions to the theater, or bought tickets for the wrong day, or for all I knew given my credit card number to a complete stranger. I was at the head of this expedition, due to fact that none of the others are really able to navigate any complicated outing in Korea, and that my Korean is getting quite good. Every time I make a Korean friend, or construct some complicated sentence in Korean, I get a grammargasm, but more on gasms of that sort and others when I come to Saturday.

As we got close to the theater (which I did in fact locate successfully), I received a call on my newly acquired and quite fetching Korean cell phone. It was the box office of the theater. They kept my number, and arranged for one of the ushers who spoke English to call and make sure we were finding it okay! This was astonishing--can you imagine any American theater calling an individual patron to make sure they were finding the place? I assured them that I was on route, but they must have had limited confidence in the ability of foreigners to navigate (well=placed, albeit), so they sent the usher out into the street to find us and lead us to the theater. I fell in love with Korea a little more at that point. How lovely! How courteous! How unheard of in any other country! And this in Daegu, a city reknowned throughout Korea for in taciturn populace. In Seoul, they probably would have carried us in a rickshaw.

On Saturday, I had arranged to meet a fellow I met in an online Gay chatroom. He was Korean, and his pictures indicated a man of exactly my type--awkward, skinny, and bespectacled. I was naturally scared shitless. I had not been on a date in five years, really, and still have some weird hangups about my attractiveness. I know that I am marvelous company, and that I have certain skills in the bedroom that are pleasant, but my appearance might scare this attractive, successful, YOUNG fellow off before any of that became apparent. I thought about rescheduling, but I have a keen nose for fear, especially my own, and tend to kill it on sight. So I went.

When I arrived at the bus station after an 80 minute ride, I was met by the fellow, Kyeongho, in his nice car. He looked to be about fourteen, and would not have been attractive, were it not for my seriously lowered standards. He was of the type known as Twinks by our people, and I am not a connoisseur. I spelled that word correctly on the first try. This was a relief, since I was now in no danger of developing a crush. A boyfriend 80 minutes away, would distinctly not be worth the time investment that it would represent. Although he was standoffish at first, so standoffish that I considered heading home, he loosened up enough to mention over dinner that he had a boyfriend who was out of the country at the moment. At this, I suggested that the evening might be over, but he bristled at this, insisting that it would be a great insult to leave just when we were beginning to drink seriously. I observed that the last train home would be leaving shortly, but he said I could stay at his apartment. Intrigued by this turn, I consented. I have little compunction about other people's relationships, considering that it is their business if they want to fool around with me. Robert's and my relationship was certainly never watertight.

As the evening progressed and I impressed him with my Karaoke skills, it became clear that he was interested in more than just showing me the sights. When we went back to his apartment to watch soccer, soccer quickly turned into a touching recline on my shoulder, and a discarding of pants. I was pleased that he found me fuckable, and it was also nice, as strange as it may seem, that he had a small dick. It made me feel less out of my level. We didn't fuck, out of superficial consideration for his boyfriend--again, their business--but we had a lot of fun. We cuddled, which was the best part, and I tried not to fidget too much during the night. I thought of a set of ground rules for sleeping in other peoples bed that seemed amusing at the time, but probably isn't really.

We said goodbye this morning, and I headed back to The Village, which sounds creepy when I capitalize it, and had another lovely day with friends that are becoming quite tolerable. I have a lot to say about that, as about everything, but it is nearly 11:00, and I promised myself that I would get up early and work out before work tomorrow. Love to you both.