Bad Karma, Worse Pick-Ups

I think I’m handling Chih and the situation very badly. I think that is either why I have such lousy karma in love, or is merely adding to my already bad karma in love. (And Chih is only a friend, for fuckssakes!)

Last summer when I was back home, and Alvina and I had a long walk and talk, we discussed our past (mis)deeds in love being the very reasons why we have such lousy luck in our current love lives (or lack thereof – me being very, very much worse off than her). The thing is, we were young! Can’t we get a break?

Alvina’s current partner’s mother found out that her erstwhile (seemingly) heterosexual daughter is now seeing a girl, and had a cow. She’s threatened to have Alvina beaten up, called Alvina up to yell at her (prolly along the lines of “How dare you corrupt my daughter, you depraved degenerate”), and issued Wendee (that’s Alvina’s partner’s name) an ultimatum: leave Alvina or leave the house.

Can it get worse than this? Please Goddess, say no.

I have no bright ideas to contribute. Fuck. Short of getting a (close) male friend to pose as Wendee’s newest boyfriend (and thus hopefully getting Wendee’s mother to back off), I can’t think of anything else.

Wendee can’t leave home – she’s still in school, a dependent; Alvina herself has just graduated and started working.

There must be some way I could help … if only I could think of it. Damn.

Maybe my having a thoroughly barren love life (what love life?) is not that bad a thing – comparatively … I don’t know.

I think it’s nice to have a partner, have a mature relationship with somebody - though, for the love of Love, I can’t imagine myself having a mature anything. (How is it that I could get so old and still not mature?)

My first (and last) 'official' relationship was nearly ten years ago. And even that wasn’t really a ‘mature relationship’ (for, let’s face it, how mature can two fifteen year-olds be?) – in fact, you know what, it’s not even a relationship; it was two hapless kids who blundered into a something they thought was a relationship. In any case, I felt so stifled by the second week, I got Germ to end it for me at the one-month mark. And yes, I admit getting a guy friend to call a boyfriend up to say “She wants out” is handling it very badly.

Maybe that explains why I get hit on by the most unbelievable specimens of the male of the species, and how I became a repository of The World’s Worst Pick-Ups and/or Pick-Up Lines. It's either karma, or kismat ... I worry that it's both.

To wit, some 'finer' samplings:
Back home
+ a Nigerian who claimed to be a soccer player and on his way to the World Cup that year [right; and I'm the Devils' left-wing sniper];

+ a local Chinese guy who, after I had (inadvertently) given him the (wrong) directions, asked for my number to thank me ["Forget it."];

+ a local Chinese guy who tailed me from the Clementi train station to the Outram Park train station, then came up and asked if I needed directions, then accompanied me from the Outram Park train station to the Little India train station, and wandered around with me as I alternately played hide-and-seek with the girls whom I were terribly late to meet, and called/texted them for directions;

+ an Indian from Delhi on the bus who asked for my cell-phone number, or home number, or address, or e-mail address (or, all the above);

In Welly
+ an Indian guy, Kabir (named for the mystic poet?), who stopped me on Salamanca road to tell me, “I’ve been watching you for a long time [say what?!]; can we be friends?” and slipped me his cell-phone number, home number, address, and e-mail address;

+ Liam, the blue-eyed and blond dreadlocked Buddhist fanatic who … ugh - ‘nuff said;

+ a (Mainland) Chinese guy at the school library [the fucking nerve!] with a smile greasy enough to fry chicken (and make skin crawl), who uttered the excruciatingly bad (and somewhat creepy) line of "This seat is only for you."

But the All-Time Most Implausibly Boneheaded Specimen Award goes to the guy (who must have upped and left, and deprived a village somewhere of their Idiot) who shadowed me from shelf to shelf as I perused the books in the fiction section in a public library (back home), then finally stopped me to ask, “Do you like reading?”

Do you like reading.

What. The. Fuck.






I have to do something about my love karma. Fast.