This is How You Lose Her

Note: This is a follow-up post to A Boo-tiful Night. I’d suggest you read the backstory before reading any further, so you could have a better context.

Well, I’m assuming that if you’re reading this post, you know the backstory, or you’re just too lazy lol, in which case here’s a quick recap:

For our third date, I wanted to take her out to a fancy dinner, but she invited me to go to a Halloween party with her at one of the trendy spots in town. I wore the red Squid Game guard costume with a black face shield, she dressed up as a ghost. We couldn’t see each other’s faces, even under bright light, but regardless it was a fang-tastic night. At the end, boozed up, we took a cab and went to my place. That may sound like the end to a fun Halloween night, but when I woke up, the girl next to me wasn’t my date, it was another girl dressed up in the same ghost costume as my date.

This is the story of what happened after that.

I ran to my phone, and picked it up, there were 9 missed calls from her. I panicked.

“How the hell did you get in here?” I looked at the girl in my apartment. “My English no good,” she shrugged her shoulders. Great, I thought.

I called her a cab, and brewed some coffee for myself, so I could think. How am I going to explain this to her? I thought. I went through all the scenes in my head that took place prior to taking the cab home, but most of them were blurry. I remembered her phone was dead and she had borrowed mine to make a call, but I couldn’t figure out when she gave me my phone back and how I ended up with the wrong girl.

I couldn’t decide whether I should call her and explain what happened the night before or just text her. If I call her, she will definitely get mad and hang up, I didn’t want to lose her that way. So, I decided to text.

“Hey! Just saw all your missed calls,” I texted her, “let’s go for brunch and I’ll explain.”

“Already ate,” she wrote back, “can’t believe you dissed me, asshole.”

“I didn’t. You won’t believe what happened. Trust me.”

A remix of Rachel Claire’s image.

I remembered she wanted to watch the new movie Dune, so I suggested we go to the evening show. I figured that meeting her at the movie theater would make it harder for her to go ballistic on me in public.

I reserved the tickets online, got to the theater fifteen minutes earlier, printed the reserved tickets, bought popcorn, and waited for her.

She arrived right on time, actually a few minutes earlier. She wore a cute marigold skater dress paired with white sneakers and a denim jacket. “So, what happened?” She shrugged her shoulders.

“No hi, no hello?” I produced a hesitant laugh, and went to kiss her.

She took a step back, and pulled out a small bottle from her handbag. It was CLARINS red berry lip comfort oil. She glided the curved sponge applicator on and then smacked her lips together.

“Umm, I got popcorn,” I said, even though all I could think of was kissing those red berrylicious lips.

“I can see that. What about the 3D glasses?”

“Oh, I’m not a big fan of 3D. Is that okay?”

She sighed.

“But I got us the best seats at the back.”

“Look,” she folded her arms across her chest, “I’m not waiting till the end of the movie for you to tell me what the hell happened last night.”

“I couldn’t find you,” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Right,” she rolled her eyes.

“The place was too crowded…” before I could finish my sentence, the usher cut me off, pointed at the sign that read CINEMA TWO, and reminded us that we were blocking the entrance to the auditorium. So, we went inside, found our seats, and scanned the crowd.

“Check them out,” I pointed at a couple making out two rows down to the left from us. They wore matching pink shirts. “I’m sure he doesn’t lie to his girlfriend,” my date said. “Okay, so here’s what happened…” I said. And all of a sudden, the auditorium got dark, and the first trailer came up on the big screen.

“The last thing I remember was the dance floor…” I whispered to her. “Shhh,” she said, “not now.”

Not now? WTF. Didn’t she want to know how I messed up our date night? But on the other hand, I was glad I had more time to think, to come up with a better story. I passed her the popcorn, she shook her head.

The movie began with Zendaya giving a voice-over, describing the beautiful sunsets on her home planet of Arrakis, BUT in Chinese.

“Why is she speaking Chinese?” I turned to my date.

“You’re in China, the movie is dubbed,” she said, and took the popcorn bucket from me.

“I guess you’ll have to translate for me.”

“For two-and-a-half hours? Hell no,” she placed the popcorn bucket back into my lap, “go to a fucking school and learn Chinese.”

The couple in matching pink shirts shushed us.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whispered to her, got up and left, she followed.

We asked the usher outside if we could exchange our tickets for the English version. He told us they were only screening the dubbed version, but there was a theater nearby we could go to. I looked up the location on my phone, but my date said she didn’t feel like doing that. “We can go to my place and watch something on Netflix,” she said. “Sure, sounds good.” She was inviting me to her place, to me that was a good sign, especially because I had never been there before.

We got on the metro, and watched the crowd watch us. It was something we were used to, like what celebrities deal with every day. But in our case, our fans were not star-struck, they were just curious. In China, when a foreigner walks with a Chinese person, people peep with inquisitive interest. It’s quite normal. Whenever I’m with a Chinese girl, people first look at me, then they look at the girl, and then back at me. The funny thing is that when I make eye contact with them, they don’t look away, instead their stare gets intensified.

“I love taking the metro with you,” I said, “it always reminds me of how we met.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

When we got to her place, she poured me a glass of coconut water, and browsed through Netflix’s New & Popular catalogue. “Let’s watch The Harder They Fall,” I said. “Nah, not into Westerns.” When I suggested the new romcom/Christmas movie lovehard, she said I was the last person she would watch a romcom with. “Oh, the new season is out,” she clicked on Tiger King: Murder, Mayhem, and Madness.

A remix of Ellie Burgin’s image.

“Are you serious?” I said.

“I love this guy, season one was hilarious.”

“You are what you watch.”

“Excuse me,” she turned to look at me, “what’s your problem?”

“Giving a platform to a criminal who abused his animals and tried to order a hit on his rival is just shameful,” I said.

“What you did last night was shameful,” she said, “you knew that my phone was dead, and yet you left me alone.”

“Look, I’m really sorry about what I did. But, I think Netflix should provide a platform for documentaries that can entertain and educate people on real issues, not just…”

“I don’t give a fuck about Netflix,” she turned the TV off, and threw the remote on the couch, “how could you leave me like that?”

“I didn’t,” I held her hand in mine.

She pulled it away.

“I made a huge mistake,” I said, “do you remember the other girl who wore the same costume as you?”

“This has nothing to do with her,” she said.

“Umm…I went home with her.”

“You did what?” She got up and walked towards the door.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I think you should leave.”

“But let me explain.”

“I’ve heard enough,” she opened the door, and turned her head away from me.

“Trust me, nothing happened between us.”

“I’m done. We’re done,” she said.

On the way home, I thought of so many things I could’ve said to her, but as soon as she opened the door wide open, I felt like all my wisdom rushed out and left me with nothing to say.

When I got home, I took a long hot shower, poured myself a glass of red, and turned on my projector. I browsed through Netflix’s New & Popular catalogue. I thought about watching The Harder They Fall, but it was too series for that night, I needed something upbeat. Then I saw Narcos Mexico, a series I started last week, but I didn’t feel like reading subtitles. I wanted something easy, something fun, something brainless.

So, I clicked on Tiger King: Murder, Mayhem, and Madness.