asian filter
Warning: Long, rambling, Ernie-feels-sorry-for-himself post. If you’re looking for something witty, move along people, there’s nothing to see here.
5 in the morning and I can’t sleep. Leave it to some random drunk fucker to ruin my night.
Let me explain, yo. So it’s a Friday night, and I go out to a gay bar with some friends, the same gay bar I’ve been to countless times before. And we meet up with some friends of friends, and sooner or later everyone, everyone, is drunk except for me, Mister I-Can’t-Drink-Two-Shots-Without-Vomitting. At the center of attention is a skinny drunk goateed guy I’ve met once or twice. Cute? Yeah, kind of. Everyone is smashed, and since the guy DrunkGuy was interested in was in our little conversation circle, some of the group thought it would be a great idea if DrunkGuy kissed everyone in the group so he can get a kiss in from the guy he’s interested in as well.
“Welllllll, I dunnnnnno,” he says. “I’d kisssss YOU [and he does, for 30 seconds or so]…. and YOU…. ohmygod, and DEFINATELY YOU….” He’s pointing to the people in the group, one by one. And then he turns to me. And he grimaces. He fucking grimaces, for Christ sake. “BUT NOT YOOOOU. I’ve gots an ASIAN FILTER.” And everyone laughs, because they were too drunk to take anything seriously right then.
“Oh, really? Well, if you don’t wanna kiss me, do you want to kiss my foot as I shove it up your ass?” I think to myself. Well, that’s more of a hindsight thought than anything else. “Wow, that’s refreshing that you can say nasty things to my face. Real fucking sweet.” Paraphased, but it got a laugh or two. Only thing is, I wasn’t laughing.
My internal monologue kicks in. “You’re taking this way too seriously, Ernie. People are attracted to specific types of guys. He’s just not attracted to overweight sardonic Asians, that’s all. His delivery was just fucked up, because he was drunk. And no one came to your defense either, cause they’re all drunk too. You interalize everything too much. A bar isn’t a place to find a relationship, anyway. Cheer up, you insecure fucking bastard.”
“Fuck you,” I told my internal monologue. For the rest of the night, and later outside of the bar, I smoked by myself with my group of friends, watching as they flirted with each other drunk off their asses and feeling like the one kid in your 4th grade class that never received any valentines on Valentines Day.. It’s a feeling familiar to me. I wouldn’t know how to be in a relationship if I tried, so it’s the straw the broke the camels back, really.
*pause* Why am I so upset, anyway? Why is this worth losing sleep over? Why am I using my weblog as an internal monologue? *sigh* I’m so over it. But if you see this post deleted in a couple of days, you’d understand, wouldn’t you?
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