Remember how last week I was telling you about the random girls who came up to me in the bookstore and how I would probably never be in contact with them?
Yeah…well…about that…
I had dinner with Yuko tonight. She emailed me like straight away after we met, much to my surprise. I thought, “What the hell?” and told her I’d be there.
Gotta say, it was a lot like going to dinner with Europeans in both instances that I’ve experienced such.
Why am I such a spaz???
And again with the touching!!!
I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Dinner was fine.
I walked to Fuse Station with all kinds of apprehension. People who are not like me shouldn’t talk to me. I know that sounds all wacked out and stuff, but I mean, I’m a wicked shade of loser.
Seriously.
I’m a freak about punctuality (and about a good deal of other things for that matter), and to tell the truth, I was worried about not recognizing her. I talked to her for maybe ten minutes last week…and I was mostly looking at everything but her.
I didn’t wait long. She came up behind me all kinds of cheery, and I swear if I didn’t nervously take a step back, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she hugged me or something.
Oh, but that didn’t stop her from linking arms with me as we walked to the restaurant. Seriously. What the hell?
We ended up at a Japanese restaurant called Sato. If I could see my aura, I’m pretty sure it would have been bright orange — a color of general panic.
To my misfortune, I wasn’t overly hungry. I foolishly had a snack maybe an hour before I went to meet her and apparently, I was still full. She told me to order whatever I wanted — it was her treat. A part of me growled at the thought — y’all know how I feel about people paying for me. It kinda throws me off and makes me uncomfortable.
I ended up ordering a tempura set. Generic, I know, but as my appetite was questionable, I wanted something I could finish.
Conversation revolved around some basic corners of our lives; jobs, free time, etc. She told me more about her dance team, and once again invited me to their home parties and the like.
We got onto the subject of movies at one point and Yuko told me that she recently saw World Trade Center.
“Do you want to see that movie?”
“No.”
I guess she was a little surprised by my immediate response, so I explained how I just can’t see that movie. I don’t plan on it. Maybe I’m sensitive or what not, but I have this gut feeling that if I watched that movie I’d be upset. Kind of like why I refuse to watch Brokeback Mountain.
Some things I just can’t handle.
I made some lame attempt to direct the conversation to something a little lighter. The next thing I know, she asks me about my belief in God and Jesus.
Alarms went off in my head.
Shit.
I restrained myself from laughing out loud. Not in a “laugh in her face” kind of way, more in a nervous laughter in a “this is not happening — this can’t be happening” kind of reaction.
I explained to her how I was raised Roman Catholic, and that I’m more or less a non-practicing Christian. I made some joke about being a Chreaster.
This did not end the topic, unfortunately.
Apparently, Yuko’s host family in Canada was hard-core Christian, like Fundamentally so.
Fuck.
No.
No, no, no.
Please don’t try to save me.
Yuko explained herself, however, and I’m giving this a chance. She said she didn’t think like her host family, mostly because she understands the Bible as book. She wanted to understand her host family’s devotion and thus studied about it when she returned to Japan.
After a series of various events, she believe that she found the Truth.
I’m happy for her. I say this with no cynicism, and I mean it. The same way I’m happy for my sister. The same way I’m happy for anyone who has such faith. Faith is good. A part of me seriously misses that. It had been so much a part of my life when I was younger.
Her eyes shone a little, “I believe we met for a reason.”
I smiled awkwardly. Of course you do, I thought. I think I ended up laughing nervously.
I had half a mind to flat out tell her, “Don’t waste your time on me. I’m pretty sure I’m gay, so I’m already going to hell.”
Remember the part where I hate myself for this?
I actually ended up telling her why I won’t go back to church and the like. I left out the aforementioned detail and simply told her I’m not a good person.
Yuko smiled and told me she’d like me to meet her friend, the one who helped her understand the Bible.
“Sure.”
Am I committed to this meeting? Well…I came here looking for something. Who’s to say that this isn’t it?
Awkward, awkward silence.
Yeah…religion seemed to be the topic of our dinner conversation.
Eventually, dinner ended. Part of me cheered.
She paid. I didn’t have the heart to insult the girl, so I let her.
We exited the restaurant. She linked her arm in mine. She wanted to find one of those sticker picture booths. Again, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I hate them.
Later, when I showed the pictures to Jacob and Darya, they both laughed. “I like how in every one of these, you look so uncomfortable.”
“Because I was!” I cried. “I hate pictures! I couldn’t tell her that, though. She paid for dinner!”
They teased me about all of this of course. “She’s pretty,” Darya said. “Wow, jess, all the pretty girls talk to you.”
Oh yeah. There was glaring involved.
But I want to try and make this work.
I need more friends who are girls…
Natashia left abruptly this week. She went back to Australia Wednesday. It was incredibly sudden…and I still don’t know how I feel about it. I don’t have a lot of friends. I mean, I have Fight Club, but I tell them often how I think we need more girls in the group.
I don’t make friends easily, especially with girls. I usually have bad experiences with such. So when I do have girlfriends, it usually amazes me.
Semantics.
Pragmatics.
Girls who are friends.
Although, to be fair, the other variety would be kinda neat some time.
But let’s not forget how much I hate me and how insecure I am.
Lousy spaz.
