It was a nice coincidence, but I should have known by how nicely he was dressed. He tells me that I'm a sexy dancer.
We go down to the bar to continue talking. It turns out that he's half Chinese. He's surprised that I'm a full-blooded Chinese. He tells me that I don't look like the stereotypical Chinese, that I'm one of the few Asian girls that he finds really attractive. He tells me that he means that as a compliment. I take it as one. As we talk, I contemplate about whether I'd be compatible with him, and I reach no conclusion. I don't care... he's beautiful.
Parties always end way too early, so his friend drives us to an afterparty. I run into a guy, Josh, that I do volunteer work with. I am surprised to see him partying because he looks so wholesome.
"What would the kids you tutor in ESL think if they saw you now?" I exclaim.
Josh laughs and when I tell him that I've only had one drink that night, and he coerces me into shotgunning two beers. I drink some wine to wash the bad taste out of my mouth. Bryan sips with me.
We are on our way out when Bryan stops to chat with some people he knew, whom were sitting in a car in the driveway. I am annoyed... it seems like this guy knows everyone.
There is a girl coughing in the backseat. She hands the bong back to the guy sitting in the passenger's seat. He catches me looking and asks if I want some. I agree without hesitation. I take several hits. I tell him that its only the second time that I smoked.
"You're kidding me. And you can take it like that? Look at her hold it in," he says to the guy in the driver's seat.
I guess its a natural talent. Its great to be predispositioned toward drug use. *sarcasm* But I don't think too deeply about it. I take a deep drag, hold it in. Its warm as it burns in my lungs. I exhale and a plume of smoke escapes from between my lips. Deep grey fading into pale as it dissipates.
Bryan catches me around my waist and we walk away. He tells me that he feels bad for exposing me to that. I tell him that it was my own decision. We go back to the apartment that he's staying at. We drink hangover-preventing water from cups decorated with copies of paintings of Renoir and Van Gogh. We both laugh at how cheesy they are and I share with him my hate of Renoir. We were talking about the impressionism era when the weed hits me. I start twitching and it feels really good. Bryan's laughing at me. He kisses me and its good...
When he drives me back in the early morning, he tells me that he's going back to LA this Saturday after Foxfields (which is an all-day drinking bash that is a tradition at U.Va... we have such stupid traditions). This means I won't see him again. It was another delicious but cheap experience. I leave him my number nonetheless. I hope he calls, but its unlikely that he will. I arrive back to my room and I sleep.
I wake up at 3 pm and go to the end-of-the-year cookout that my residential college is hosting. Since I feel slightly empty and hungover, frolicking on the grassy hills is exactly what I need. I laugh. I throw water balloons, chase people with a bucket of water. I get soaked. I laugh. I roll down the hill. I dance. I blow bubbles. I pour bubble solution into the wading pool and make a bubble bath. I get indescribably wet and dirty. I laugh. I exhaust myself.
The cookout ended a few hours ago. So that was my weekend. I don't know why I just spent so much time recording it. Was it pointless? I get such a feeling of closure; the fun moments are over. I see nothing ahead now except exams, summer jobs, and the tedious, endless grind of life. The crazy parties break the monotony and perpetuates it at the same time. Is all of this pointless? This stream of experiences, rich as they may be, are evanescent, meaning nothing as they fleet by. Fuck yes, I'm definitely depressed again. I think I'm going to get fucked up tonight to ward off this depression for just one more night.
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