He nodded. The complete mess that I lived in was laid bare as soon as I opened the front door, and that should’ve had the effect of sobering me up instantly. Except it didn’t, I was still drunk, and so I tossed off my coat and pulled down my trousers, but why were my jeans so tight, had I gained weight? I ended up on the bed with my jeans only halfway down . . .
It was sunrise by the time I regained consciousness. As usual, this neighborhood, which was near a university, began its mornings with the construction-site clamor of new studio apartments. Think of all the people who are going to be living in those rooms. I frowned and opened my eyes. I lay on the bed in just my underwear and socks, alone. When I propped myself up on an elbow, I saw him lying on the floor, fully clothed. I got up and went to sit beside him. At the sight of his neat profile, the whole world fell silent. As if we were the only two people left in it. I wanted to lift my hand and touch his forehead, nose, and lips, but I was afraid of waking him. Instead, I carefully brought my forefinger under his nose and felt his shallow breathing. His neck had accordioned into five wrinkles from using my big stuffed Pororo for a pillow, and he had laid his watch and wallet neatly on the floor by his head. I looked closely at his watch: “National Intelligence Service” was stamped on its face. What the hell? Curious, I carefully opened his wallet. Three thousand-won bills, a Shinhan Bank Patriots debit card, student ID for the You Sulhee Nursing Academy Juan branch, and a class 2 driver’s license. Min Gyu-ho, born in 1989. He began to stir, and I quickly put down the wallet.
He opened his eyes, checked the time, and hastily began to put on his coat. He didn’t drink the water I offered him as he stuffed his feet into his shoes. He was late for class, he said. It was only after, when he had closed the door behind him, that I realized we hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers. Gyu-ho. Who wore a National Intelligence Service watch, worked at a gay bar, and was an aspiring nurse’s aide.
I wondered what his deal was.
?
Tuesday—the beginning of my week.
I had come back to university after I quit my first job. Mostly I rose late from bed and made a habit of sitting in the library, pretending to prepare for reentry into the workforce while actually just wasting time. In the beam of light coming in from the window next to me, I read novels, opened my laptop and banged out some crappy writing, or scribbled meaningless thoughts on notebook pages that were as blank as my brain.
Twenty-nine years old, You Sulhee Nursing Academy, nurse’s aide, bartender, Min Gyu-ho.
I looked up from my meaningless stringing together of words at the light shining from the window. The drowsiness made me close my eyes for a bit, and when I woke up it was five in the afternoon. I dragged my body, heavier than its mass in wet rags, all the way to the theater on Daehak-ro. I turned on the lights in the hall and set up the life-size cardboard cutouts of the actors next to the ticket office. In thirty minutes, I would be shouting “Programs for sale!” at the top of my lungs. Even when I knew that no one would want one.
I moved into a studio apartment with the excuse of concentrating on my job search (I couldn’t stand living with my mother anymore). I took part-time jobs because I needed to pay rent and feed myself. And once I got a taste of what it meant to be in the real world, I immediately lost all appetite for building or achieving anything. It’s pointless—just the same thing in a different place, I thought. Frustration and rage, hope saddled with despair, the days dripping over you like sweat. It’s the same thing with love. I’m too far gone to expect anything new. Looking for jobs, writing, men—all the same boredom. But weird how I keep wanting to write your name. You, Gyu-ho, who should be just another face among the many that populate these tedious days.
?
Jaehee called me while I was on my way home from a Saturday night performance. Her man was going on a business trip to Kuwait and she was free for the first time in a long while. She wanted to go drinking. I didn’t really feel like it, but she said it would be her treat, so I took the bus to Hongdae with only my transportation card in my wallet. Jaehee had assembled a motley crew of people who mostly didn’t know each other, who were out of school and in the real world, and out came the boring drinking games that real-world people played when they were with strangers, not to mention all that tedious shit about their lives that I had zero interest in, their yearly salaries, and their heterosexual dating stories. Bullshitting about who grabbed someone’s hand or kissed or went out and had sex a month later. And what was with the Chungha instead of soju? The weak alcohol totally failed to get me drunk. “So anyway, when oppa was stationed at the Zaytun Division in Iraq, those American army bastards . . .” Some idiot who had gone to Korea University was making a huge fuss over his military service that literally no one had asked him about. I just kept knocking back glass after glass of Chungha, not saying anything.
—Hey, kid who keeps drinking, you still in college?
—No, I’ve graduated.
—Then you must be post-military. Where are you from?
I kept my mouth shut. Jaehee took the hint and tried to change the subject. “Look, oppa, no one is boring enough to talk about their military service days past thirty.”
If boredom could be classified, tonight was truly world-class. While the others went on talking, I continued to chug down drinks and ripped the dried pollack in front of me into powder. I thought: Damn, I’m so fucking bored. This is really not my thing. This feeling of alienation that I was soaking in every day, every second of my life . . . Hey, I wonder what the T-aras are doing? I checked the group chat to see if anyone had said anything cute, but there was nothing new. Probably each had grabbed some guy to fuck or was sleeping off the week at home. I said I was going to the bathroom and messaged Jaehee from outside.
Sorry Jaehee. I’m leaving. It’s too damn boring to stay.
Yeah, this asshole talks way too much lol everyone else hates him haha
Ok get the Korea University oppa drunk and have him pay for everything
You got it haha