A few weeks after arriving in Korea I met someone. We fucked the first night we met, and it was pretty good.
Neither of us were looking for anything serious. What it boiled down to was that everyone has needs, and it’s hard to get those needs met in a foreign country where men strive to look like boy-band members and women want to get married before they’re twenty-four.
It was a totally new building with glass walls and a wonderful view of the woodsy campus behind the main school building. I sat inside this new cafeteria with six other teachers who, because of the new lunch schedule that accompanied the new building, weren’t used to eating with me – the foreigner. I ate kimchi and occasionally sniffed the queer smelling chemical scents given off by the building materials.
Me and a co-worker of mine started taking Muay Thai classes in April. His name is Mr. 김 (Kim) and since I arrived last December for my second year in Korea he’s taken to the idea of being my older brother – my 형님.
He knows I didn’t work at a public school before, and he knows this is my first time living in Seoul, so he wants to give me advice and expose me to Korea. He reminds me that kimchi is a very popular is a traditional Korean food. “Oh okay” is all I say after living here for a year.
At thirteen years old I had my first date…
I can’t tell you the exact age when the mechanical genius of the penis and vagina clicked in my mind, but I would guess it to be around nine. By nine I had an eye for the penthouse my cousin kept under his mattress; I was fast forwarding R rated movies to the sex scenes; I leered at all women, homely and beautiful, and imagined them naked and lying on top of me. A Playboy got me a call to my parents in the fourth grade.