Please read "Love American VS Korean Style Parts 1&2" before reading this so as to be up to snuff when reading this most recent installment in the love of JihadGene's life.
Where did we last leave off? Oh yeah, "Operation Birthday Party". Well, it cost me but I was assured I would be rewarded with the company of the future Mrs Jihad (Kim). I was on fire! I was all shook up! A hunka-hunka bruning love, was I.
I'm headed for first base!
Now it's Saturday night and "Operation Birthday Party" is in full swing!
I must tell you that Korean men, when they party, they party like they fight. Completely INSANE!
About two hours into the party, and with things going smoothly, Korean Birthday Boy is STINKO drunk off his can, wants to fight all the men in attendance, and dance with all the ladies. Birthday Boy pukes all over the place, including on several of the party attendees. One of which was Kim! She was puked on, yet she was gracious. Wow! What a gal. My beautiful but puked on date, Kim, now has to leave and get cleaned up. She told me she was going home now. ALONE. The party's over. She shook my hand, smiled, and said goodbye. I asked her when I would see her again, she only said goodbye to me in Korean, which sounded surprisingly like "sayonara sucker". Goodbye... That can be a lousy word at times, and it sure was that night. She was not coming back and I couldn't blame her one bit. I sat miserably thinking I would never see her again. I kept replaying, in my minds eye, the tragic moment of the flying barf impacting on her pretty dress. Why didn't I do a Big Hoss Cartwright like on Bonanza or a Chuck Conners on The Rifleman and save the girl? If only I had foreseen the unforeseeable. I could of been a Sir Walter Raleigh ...ya know? Throwing myself in the line of fire (puke), protecting her with my cloak, and all that. I would have come out smelling like a rose, soaked in vomit, but a rose... none the less. Nope. I didn't do that. So now I'm lower than low. I see her leave in the taxi. I wave. She didn't see me, I guess. Feeling sorry for myself, I fell deep into self-pity and The Sad Sack Zone. (To be Continued)