Love

So, I have been reflecting and I have a new strategy to dating, specifically for women of color.  I acknowledge the fact that yes, physical attraction is a baseline for a connection, but I am so done giving men a cute pass.  The cute pass winds me up with a useless one-night stand or a toxic relationship, and no deeper connection.  

Instead, I have always found asking deeper specific questions not only implores and reveals information but will also help you bond.  

They pumped their bikes in the garage and headed out to meet their circle of friends, and probably the young man who was secretly making Sunny have vivid dreams at night.  

In the sunlight, the definition of Lou’s neck, chest, and arms glistened.  He had taken his shirt off for the bike ride while everyone else warned him that he was going to turn into a hot dog.  Sunny pulled her sun spray out of her small backpack and handed it over to him.  Their hands touched -  his hand was warm from the sun and hers was slightly sweating. He twinkled his dimple at her and said, “Thanks.”    It was such a nice day that many people were out on the trail.  They pedaled their bikes one behind the other like a line of ants bustling toward their headquarters.

Sunny was so engrossed in the story that she felt tears tugging at her dark eyes.  

“What happened next, tais?”

Grandma Va Her looked at her favorite young person in their congregation with a look of sadness and hope.  “The two were separated - Lou Xeng went back to his village and she went back to hers.  As some time went by, the heartbreak grew a cold spot in Lou Xeng’s empty heart and he grew very sick.”

Sunny was flooded with flashes of angular hemp leaves and a smiling handsome young man.  She felt like she could almost touch the hemp with her hands, feeling a breeze in the room that shifted her hair inside the church. 

 She closed her eyes and let the songs fill up the space in her mind that needed to just chill.  Meanwhile, Pa Nhia was hanging out with Lou, the man with the strange vibes, at the bar counter like two thirsty birds perched on a water fountain.  Sunny ignored them and continued to close her eyes.  A peculiar feeling made her gasp for air, and suddenly Pa Nhia’s mysterious boyfriend appeared by her side with a plastic cup of ice water.  “You looked thirsty,” he said.  “Oh, I don’t share germs,” Sunny quickly retorted, feeling unwilling to interact with her best friend’s new boyfriend.  Take the water -you need it, a voice resounded in her head.  She grabbed the cup out of Lou’s hand and drank it like she was a plant in the desert.  As soon as she was done, she had the urge to use the bathroom except now she was limping from a blister forming on her right foot.  Lou noticed and told Pa Nhia that he would take Sunny to the bathroom.  I thought he had drunk more than me, Sunny thought to herself, as she swayed hanging on to his arm.  Lou patted her red-painted nails on his elbow, and whispered something barely audible but Sunny caught it.  He said, “I needed some time with you alone.”  She shrugged him off her.

  “Do you recognize me from somewhere?” she said. 

Lou looked her straight in the eyes, and said, “I don’t know what you mean?”

She repeated what she heard from him.  

He looked away and said, “I think you need some more water.”  

She suddenly felt sick and ran into the women’s bathroom.  

 Rinsing the leafy greens dotted with tiny yellow flowers for soup under the sink water, she thought of all the things she wanted to do this summer.  First of all, Sunny also led a secret life which she kept under wraps because if her parents found out, they would never let her go.  Just then, her cell phone pinged her.  She had put her phone upside down so her parents couldn’t see who was messaging her.  Excusing herself to use the bathroom, she hastily grabbed her phone with her wet hands and slid into the first-floor bathroom across from the kitchen.  

 

   Meet tonight, pronto.  - was the message.

   Sunny wrote back, Why?  What do you want to do?

   Wear red. 

   …

Sunny giggled, flushed the toilet, then rushed out to finish preparing lunch with her mom.  

There were times in my early 30s when my friends were either getting married and starting families or I had some fall-outs and disconnection with them.  I was very lonely and ultimately, bored for a while.  I remember napping or going to bed early as a past time.  I felt sad, ashamed, depressed, and helpless.  I tried dating and I hung on to a few men for dear life, for entertainment and inspiration.  Those relationships eventually dwindled and did not work out. 

Support is something I wish all women would look for in their partners, allowing them to shine in what they are good at and praised for it - and I don't mean just the things we do for others, but being praised for who we are - "You are beautiful.  You are smart.  You are courageous.  You are good at this (self-talent)." 

When I worked at my cousin's Hmong roasted pork deli, the woman prep-cook quickly befriended me buying me diet soda from the store across the street and bringing me snacks some mornings. She was a crabby Hmong woman who was constantly yelling racist remarks at our Mexican roaster and reminded me of my grandmother. She told me my Hmong was terrible, but she could easily complete my sentences and train of thought, so we got along well. An older woman (let's call her Yer) who had an only son, was divorced, and lived with her cat in an apartment on top of a convenient store on the east side of Saint Paul, I forgave her for being so direct and curt as I continued to learn more about her.

I went to Anna Akana's stand-up comedy last night - her run spun off the topic of mental health, particularly suicide - her sister's.  I felt it glorified it just a little, which was disturbing, but that was the reaction she was going for.  It was funny but weird?  But it definitely triggered my relations to suicide...

One of my childhood memories of my grandmother was actually a potent smell coming from the bathroom, oddly placed in the kitchen of our four-plex in Frogtown - one of the poorer neighborhoods of Saint Paul in the 90s.  I think I might've threw up from the bitter stench.  My grandmother was perming her hair.  It turned out amazing - I really have no idea how she did it...since it came from a box. Her hair was black, fluffy, and thick.  She looked like she belonged in a 80s workout video - actually like the guy with the frizzy hair who leads the workout - you know who I mean? 

I gave my Clinique foundation to our tour guide's daughters as a gift before I left for southern Vietnam, so I went without my daily cover-up for the rest of...