Kara of the Foam
One of the problems with moving to an out-of-this-world god-forsaken little country that most people cannot find on a map is that you are guaranteed to have one friend, or acquaintance, who will go:
"Hey, I know someone who lives there! My childhood friend, he/she is a total riot, of course I haven't seen him/her in two decades but I'll get his/her number for you, and you guys can get in touch!"
So a chance acquaintance 'introduced' me to Kara, and surprise, surprise, we actually hit it off. I met up with her soon after I landed here, and the first couple of times, it was at parties where we both kind-of sort-of knew the others. So then, when she suggested that we grab lunch one of these days, I said, yeah, sure.
Kara: "How about Thursday?"
Me: "Sure, where?"
Kara: "Oh, I'm not particular, you pick a place."
Me: "Do you like sushi? I know this nice little sushi joint quite close to your office." (She has a nine-to-five job.)
Kara: "Sure, that sounds good."
I told her where it was, and we met up during her lunch break. I ordered about three trays of sushi. She got a bowl of edamame.
Me: "Just edamame?"
Kara: "Well, I don't really like fish."
EHH? What happened to "Sure, that sounds good"? Since when did "Sure, that sounds good" become code for "I hate the stuff, pick another place"? You don't "Sure that sounds good" someone and then come out of left field with an "I don't really like fish", it's just not done.
Of course, I apologised.
Me: "I'm so sorry, why didn't you tell me? Anyway, they have tons of options without fish, there're the egg sushi, there's cucumber, and radish, and mushrooms, and..."
Kara: "No, that's okay, I'll be all right."
So she ate her edamame, and I ate my fish. At one point, she offered me some, and I said no thanks, I can't say I fancy the stuff. To which she replied, "Yeah, it's not very good."
She then changed the subject, and said, abruptly, "So, are you seeing someone?" Caught off-guard, I answered a bit too truthfully, "No! No." And she said, "Me neither."
I quickly amended my statement.
"Well, I just ended a pretty serious relationship, and that's one of the reasons I moved here... I'm planning to steer clear of the whole dating scene for a while, just do some soul-searching, you know? I just need to catch up with myself."
She sighed.
"Me too," she said.
She later told me all about herself, how she was engaged to this guy, but she returned the (diamond) ring and told him she couldn't do it, the time wasn't right. She told me all about him: what he did, what his family was like, how they started dating, how he proposed, and so on.
Without my realising it, she was also pumping me for information. "Have you ever felt trapped, like you can't breathe, like the other person's personality is stifling you?" Yes, I said, sure, this one person I dated for close to a year... And then this other time...
"You've dated a lot of people, haven't you?" she said. Well, not really, just about average, I stammered. How many? Well, I don't know, really, it's hard to say... twenty, maybe?
"I don't know, it sounds like a lot more," Kara said. "Anyway, twenty is a lot." She apparently, had only dated this one guy--Shane--the one she had just broken up with. The ex-fiance.
***
You're probably thinking, "Only an idiot would continue to hang out with a nutjob like that," and you would be right. I am that idiotic.
But you know, had I been on home turf, I would have promptly made a mental note to avoid the woman like the plague. But this was not home turf: this was miles and miles away from home turf, where Kara was one of only two people I had hitherto discovered, whose knowledge of English extended beyond "Excuse please where the toiletries?"
I had no choice: I was starved for conversation, and as a consequence, had to drop my standards like a 40-ton anchor into the sea, so my mind wouldn't come unhinged and lose its moorings. So the next time she called and said, "Oh I do so hope you're free for lunch! I am terribly upset and I really need to talk to someone," I obliged and went along.
And that was another thing I never quite understood. I'm all for the communal whinge, sitting around a table and exchanging horror stories from work. But her stories were never consistent (though her complaints about the food she was being served were). One day she would be starry-eyed about a dishy supervisor, telling me she was certain he would ask her out (but they wouldn't come here, have you seen such soggy fries?) and the next day she would be fuming about that great berk of a supervisor (and waiter, please heat up this soup, I'd like it to be piping hot, not lukewarm) who was driving her up the wall. Wait, the same one? Yes.
And she continued trying to prod me for information. "Met anyone interesting lately?" she's say. "Anyone cute at work?" [I hate the word cute.] No, I said, I'm not looking for anyone. She'd sigh, and then suddenly brighten up.
"Do you miss your ex?" she'd say. No, I'd reply, I don't miss my ex, any of my exes. I haven't thought of my ex(es) since the last time you asked me that question.
"I don't understand," she said one day. "How can you not miss your ex?" I said, well, I don't know, maybe I just wasn't that into the relationship after all? Maybe I'm a commitment-phone, or maybe... "But you were together for so many years! I don't understand how you can be in a serious relationship and just end it, just like that." Wait a minute, I said. What about you? Weren't you in a serious relationship, with whatsisname, Shane? And didn't you 'end it, just like that'?
She was silent for a few moments. "That's different," she said finally.
***
A few days later, the phone call came.
"We need to talk," Kara said.
We ordered coffee, and sat down, and that's when she told me. "I made up that stuff about Shane," she said. "I guess you figured it out after that last conversation we had."
No, I said, I hadn't. (Yes I am that dense.)
"You mean," I said after a pause, "there's no Shane?"
The coffee arrived. I leaned back and sipped mine. This should be interesting, I thought. Yes, one ought to be appalled, but surely it must've taken a great deal of courage for her to tell me about the lack of Shane-dom in her life. Shane-lessness. The Non-Shane. Besides, it was such a stupid thing to lie about, so... pointless.
I waited. She sat there, stirring her cappuccino. Furiously. Whip, whip, whip, like she wanted to churn the fat out of it.
"How's your coffee?" I said. Bad idea.
"It's full of foam. I hate foam. I forgot to tell them not to add foam."
"Didn't you get a cappuccino?" I blurted out, surprised. "I mean, a cappuccino is mostly foam, by definition, so why...?"
She pulled out her cell phone. And called someone. "Hello?" she said. "Hey, remember the time we all got together and had a party? I was just thinking of that. Yeah, it was fun wasn't it? Okay, bye."
[I swear I'm not making this shit up.]
"Er," I said.
She dialled another number. "Hi," she said. "Were there any messages for me while I was out? Flowers? I got a bunch of flowers? How nice! Okay, I'll be right over."
"Eh," I said.
"I've got to go," she said. "I've got these flowers."
***
Kara never called me again.
***
Okeye, that was wishful thinking. Truth is, she didn't contact me for the next fourteen months. Needless to say, I didn't contact her either. And then, out of the blue, just when I'd forgotten about her existence, I got this phone call...
"Hi! It's so nice to hear your voice again! How've you been? Where are you? I'm so glad I could get hold of you! I've been so busy... but hey, I really, really need to see you and talk to you. Are you free? Wanna have coffee? I'm right outside your bureau, I see your car parked there!"
Get-away-from-me-and-don't-call-me-again-you-psycho is what I should have said. Instead I said, "Er, you're outside?"
She was.
"Hey, I know someone who lives there! My childhood friend, he/she is a total riot, of course I haven't seen him/her in two decades but I'll get his/her number for you, and you guys can get in touch!"
So a chance acquaintance 'introduced' me to Kara, and surprise, surprise, we actually hit it off. I met up with her soon after I landed here, and the first couple of times, it was at parties where we both kind-of sort-of knew the others. So then, when she suggested that we grab lunch one of these days, I said, yeah, sure.
Kara: "How about Thursday?"
Me: "Sure, where?"
Kara: "Oh, I'm not particular, you pick a place."
Me: "Do you like sushi? I know this nice little sushi joint quite close to your office." (She has a nine-to-five job.)
Kara: "Sure, that sounds good."
I told her where it was, and we met up during her lunch break. I ordered about three trays of sushi. She got a bowl of edamame.
Me: "Just edamame?"
Kara: "Well, I don't really like fish."
EHH? What happened to "Sure, that sounds good"? Since when did "Sure, that sounds good" become code for "I hate the stuff, pick another place"? You don't "Sure that sounds good" someone and then come out of left field with an "I don't really like fish", it's just not done.
Of course, I apologised.
Me: "I'm so sorry, why didn't you tell me? Anyway, they have tons of options without fish, there're the egg sushi, there's cucumber, and radish, and mushrooms, and..."
Kara: "No, that's okay, I'll be all right."
So she ate her edamame, and I ate my fish. At one point, she offered me some, and I said no thanks, I can't say I fancy the stuff. To which she replied, "Yeah, it's not very good."
She then changed the subject, and said, abruptly, "So, are you seeing someone?" Caught off-guard, I answered a bit too truthfully, "No! No." And she said, "Me neither."
I quickly amended my statement.
"Well, I just ended a pretty serious relationship, and that's one of the reasons I moved here... I'm planning to steer clear of the whole dating scene for a while, just do some soul-searching, you know? I just need to catch up with myself."
She sighed.
"Me too," she said.
She later told me all about herself, how she was engaged to this guy, but she returned the (diamond) ring and told him she couldn't do it, the time wasn't right. She told me all about him: what he did, what his family was like, how they started dating, how he proposed, and so on.
Without my realising it, she was also pumping me for information. "Have you ever felt trapped, like you can't breathe, like the other person's personality is stifling you?" Yes, I said, sure, this one person I dated for close to a year... And then this other time...
"You've dated a lot of people, haven't you?" she said. Well, not really, just about average, I stammered. How many? Well, I don't know, really, it's hard to say... twenty, maybe?
"I don't know, it sounds like a lot more," Kara said. "Anyway, twenty is a lot." She apparently, had only dated this one guy--Shane--the one she had just broken up with. The ex-fiance.
***
You're probably thinking, "Only an idiot would continue to hang out with a nutjob like that," and you would be right. I am that idiotic.
But you know, had I been on home turf, I would have promptly made a mental note to avoid the woman like the plague. But this was not home turf: this was miles and miles away from home turf, where Kara was one of only two people I had hitherto discovered, whose knowledge of English extended beyond "Excuse please where the toiletries?"
I had no choice: I was starved for conversation, and as a consequence, had to drop my standards like a 40-ton anchor into the sea, so my mind wouldn't come unhinged and lose its moorings. So the next time she called and said, "Oh I do so hope you're free for lunch! I am terribly upset and I really need to talk to someone," I obliged and went along.
And that was another thing I never quite understood. I'm all for the communal whinge, sitting around a table and exchanging horror stories from work. But her stories were never consistent (though her complaints about the food she was being served were). One day she would be starry-eyed about a dishy supervisor, telling me she was certain he would ask her out (but they wouldn't come here, have you seen such soggy fries?) and the next day she would be fuming about that great berk of a supervisor (and waiter, please heat up this soup, I'd like it to be piping hot, not lukewarm) who was driving her up the wall. Wait, the same one? Yes.
And she continued trying to prod me for information. "Met anyone interesting lately?" she's say. "Anyone cute at work?" [I hate the word cute.] No, I said, I'm not looking for anyone. She'd sigh, and then suddenly brighten up.
"Do you miss your ex?" she'd say. No, I'd reply, I don't miss my ex, any of my exes. I haven't thought of my ex(es) since the last time you asked me that question.
"I don't understand," she said one day. "How can you not miss your ex?" I said, well, I don't know, maybe I just wasn't that into the relationship after all? Maybe I'm a commitment-phone, or maybe... "But you were together for so many years! I don't understand how you can be in a serious relationship and just end it, just like that." Wait a minute, I said. What about you? Weren't you in a serious relationship, with whatsisname, Shane? And didn't you 'end it, just like that'?
She was silent for a few moments. "That's different," she said finally.
***
A few days later, the phone call came.
"We need to talk," Kara said.
We ordered coffee, and sat down, and that's when she told me. "I made up that stuff about Shane," she said. "I guess you figured it out after that last conversation we had."
No, I said, I hadn't. (Yes I am that dense.)
"You mean," I said after a pause, "there's no Shane?"
The coffee arrived. I leaned back and sipped mine. This should be interesting, I thought. Yes, one ought to be appalled, but surely it must've taken a great deal of courage for her to tell me about the lack of Shane-dom in her life. Shane-lessness. The Non-Shane. Besides, it was such a stupid thing to lie about, so... pointless.
I waited. She sat there, stirring her cappuccino. Furiously. Whip, whip, whip, like she wanted to churn the fat out of it.
"How's your coffee?" I said. Bad idea.
"It's full of foam. I hate foam. I forgot to tell them not to add foam."
"Didn't you get a cappuccino?" I blurted out, surprised. "I mean, a cappuccino is mostly foam, by definition, so why...?"
She pulled out her cell phone. And called someone. "Hello?" she said. "Hey, remember the time we all got together and had a party? I was just thinking of that. Yeah, it was fun wasn't it? Okay, bye."
[I swear I'm not making this shit up.]
"Er," I said.
She dialled another number. "Hi," she said. "Were there any messages for me while I was out? Flowers? I got a bunch of flowers? How nice! Okay, I'll be right over."
"Eh," I said.
"I've got to go," she said. "I've got these flowers."
***
Kara never called me again.
***
Okeye, that was wishful thinking. Truth is, she didn't contact me for the next fourteen months. Needless to say, I didn't contact her either. And then, out of the blue, just when I'd forgotten about her existence, I got this phone call...
"Hi! It's so nice to hear your voice again! How've you been? Where are you? I'm so glad I could get hold of you! I've been so busy... but hey, I really, really need to see you and talk to you. Are you free? Wanna have coffee? I'm right outside your bureau, I see your car parked there!"
Get-away-from-me-and-don't-call-me-again-you-psycho is what I should have said. Instead I said, "Er, you're outside?"
She was.
