"Hey Kevin, I have the car tonight.  I'll go get and date and you get one and we'll double date."

10^th grade.  The age of innocence.  And amazingly enough we both ended up asking a girl named Lauren out.   Fortunately enough, it wasn't the same one.  And my friend and I to this day fondly recall that night as "The Night of Lauren."   Actually we just call it Lauren.  Actually anytime we even hear that name, we have to give a small nostalgic laugh.  This is how the Night of Lauren unfolded.

One by one my friend picked all of us up.  His Lauren, then me, then my Lauren.  The food was good, but inconsequential.  The movie was good, but that too was totally inconsequential.  What made this day memorable was the end of the date.

My friend dropped off my Lauren first.  I said my goodbyes, it was just a friendly date so no kiss.   However after my Lauren was dropped off, the mood in the car changed.  I mean how could it not?  I was only really friends with my Lauren, but my friend and his Lauren have been heavily flirting the whole night.   The situation was ripe for a kiss and both parties knew it…

Upon arrival of her house she said, "This is my house."

This was a total waste of words when you think of it.  He knows it is her house.  He picked her up from there for gosh sakes!  I used to sit next to her in Chemistry class.  I saw the grades she got back, I knew she was dumb, but not THAT dumb.  Although one time we had a multiple choice test and she studied so hard for that test.  She was confident to ace it.  There were 5 possible choices in the multiple choice test.  A random selection of multiple choice answers would have given you a 20%.  She got a 26%.  6% above having a random box of skittles as her brain.  And that was after 8 hours of studying.  What a genius.  Well regardless, I’m pretty her comment wasn’t just a mindless dumb comment.  This was her method of stalling.  

It is a complicated situation.  See in this ever raging society of the augmented female role, you never know what is the male role and which role is the female role.  Kissing unfortunately is still the man's job.  And initiating the first kiss is probably the hardest.   So until that changes, A girl's job is to allow a situation to arise in which a man can kiss the girl.  And at the end of a date is one of those key moments where a kiss is very probable.   And assuming the girl is a rational girl, she knows this.  Thus it is safe to say that she is very careful of the signs she is giving.   If she didn’t want a kiss she wouldn’t ever allow an open path from her lips to his.  However on the contrary, even a slight hesitation or prolonged stares or even an increase is physical touching or contact is a sign to go for it. 

Looking back at this 10th grade experience, her first sign was the stall.  And my friend's response was perfect.  He responded half a second past a comfortable pause and said very slowly, "I know."

At fist I thought this was a very dumb move, but now I think it was brilliant.  I was expecting a Shakespearian Sonnet to woo her, but women aren't really impulse creatures, unless it deals with shopping.   If my friend wanted to kiss her, he had the whole date to create the ambiance for a kiss.  No magical word he says in the last few minutes of a date will redeem a date if it went badly.   He can only ruin it with saying something stupid.  That is why girls hate pick up lines.  They want to be massaged into a feeling, not explicitly directed.  So at the end of a date, the less a guy says the better.  He has nothing to gain, but everything to loose.  

That silence of awkwardness was even painful for me to watch, but come to think of it the extra amount of time (if done confidently) is supposed to add that extra sense of awkwardness.  Because the girl knows she can't make the first move, it is still the guy's job.   So why not take your time?  It kind of reinforces the fact that it isn't her move to make.  And when a girl knows she can't do something, it just enhances the wanting and need for it.  It is slight reminder of the gender limitations that still prevail in the ettiquette of our society.  These limitations drive girls crazy... This is the good kind of crazy though.  Not the kind of crazy I saw in my Political Theory of Feminism Class.  That was definitely bad crazy.  

"I had a great time," she says as her eyes linger on his as she fumbles with her other hand toward the door handle. 

Prolonged stares and even more lingering and more senseless chit chat.  Girls seem to like that senseless chit chat thing.  But in this instance it was good.  It meant she really wants it.  And he knew it too.  He was such a genius.  I had so much to learn from this guy.

And this is when he made his move.  He put is arm around her, winked at her, and just puckered his lips without moving toward her. 

She had waited and wanted it long enough that this was all she needed to kiss him.  I was so proud of my friend!   Great job!  Sly devil you!

Unfortunately, during my quiet observation and with their preoccupation with reading each other's signs, they forget I was in the back seat.   And one kiss turned into a very graphic make out session.

I still remember the song that played in the car while this event unfolded.  It was the New Radicals only hit song.   "You Only Get What You Give."  It is quiet a long song for the radio, but when it ended they were still going at it.

And I started to sense that they might want to get more physical and I was worried that they might try and move to the back seat for some more room.  This is when I gave a pre-emptive slight cough.

With that the girl turned red, jumped up, hit her head on the car ceiling, and bolted out the car door.  My friend just sat there dazed and confused… and slightly shocked that I was still there.   I told him it was ok and to go after the girl.  He caught up to her and walked her to her door.  Kissed her again and walked back totally embarrassed.

He got back to the car and we kind of sat there in silence.

He broke the silence with, "Do you want to sit up front?"

To that I replied, "no thanks.  I'll stay back here… I know what happens to people that sit up front.”

My mother got upset with me once because she found out I went to a gay club a while ago.  She thought I was doing it because I was experimenting with it and questioning myself.  Paraphrasing what she said, the pink shirt and purple shirt I have doesn’t really help my cause.  I told her I wasn’t experimenting and I just went because my gay friends go to straight clubs with me, it is only fair I go with them to a gay club.  As for the color of my shirts, I couldn’t come up with a coherent response before her eye brows furrowed.  Then she went on to question how often I went clubbing (straight or gay), and any number you say to an Asian parent is too high.   

Well apparently my mom is not the only one that has a lurking suspicion that I’m gay.  While at the club, a gay guy came up to me and just started freaking me from behind.  Some may question how I could deduce he was a gay guy without turning around and seeing him.  Well for starters… Let’s put it this way.  I didn’t need to turn around to FEEL he was a guy freaking me.  And I the fact that I could FEEL it from behind, I knew he was… excited by dancing with me?

For the rest of the night I was dancing with my back against the wall.

But after having that happen to me, I am curious now.  Not in that way, Not that there is anything wrong with it.  But curious if girls feel it when random guys dance up on them?  I felt it.  Now I know why girls kind of freak out when random guys freak up on them.  Maybe that is how the term came to be Freaking?  I guess that is why I saw so many girls at the gay club, they feel safe knowing they won’t be accosted there and can dance without worrying.

*Note to guys:  Lots of cute girls go to gay clubs.  They put their guard down and are more likely to act favorably to your advances.  Actually scratch that… Note to Self… I don’t want other guys knowing this!

Now another thing pops up in my head.  Now I wonder about the girls that still love freaking with random guys… or even their guy friends.  They feel it, and yet they still keep doing it?  Don’t they worry when their guy friend is dancing with them and they start to FEEL it?  Do they question if the guy friend is really just a “friend” or does he want more?  How can they keep dancing when they feel it and not question why?  Don’t they ever feel weird knowing what the guy is thinking as he is freaking them?  And does their act of allowing the freaking to occur constitute a valid permission that states they are fine with possibly entertaining the perverse thoughts going through the guy’s mind?  Or are they just teasing the guys by allowing it and not even entertaining the thought.

At work some of my coworkers ate breakfast together and during a lull in the conversation I asked these questions to everyone.  Especially the old lady at work who thinks I’m a horrible father. 

I’m going to name this lady for future references.  She seems to be a topic to many of my entries.  I don’t want to give her real name so I’ll create a fake one for her.  And trust me, it is a very complex code that you won’t be able to decifer it… so don’t even try.  For future references, I will refer to this old lady as “yggeP,” or “eiggeP” as she signs her emails. 

In the middle of my soliloquy I was interrupted.

“What is freaking?”  Asked “yggeP.”

“Um… It’s kind of hard to explain in words.”

“Well then show me,” replied a genuinely intrigued “yggeP.”

If she were 1/3 her age, that would be such a great dream… if only the age… and if we were not in the pews of McDonalds.

Judging by who was laughing at the table, I know who in my office is a straight up freak and who is a prude.  And amazing enough, it correlates almost totally with gender.  If I had to guess R values, I’d say around 0.98… give or take 0.02.

Eagerly looking for help on this one (I wasn’t sure I could talk my way out of this one) I was relieved when one of the guys answered,

“Freaking is how I conceived my last son.”

I’ve never seen a frail and pale old lady turn so red.  She did not speak for the rest of the meal.  Having a 60+ year old woman ask me to freak her… didn’t boost my self esteem as much as I thought it would.

The only problem with living in a 10 floor apartment complex is that when you get groceries, you have to bring it all the way up to your apartment.  And with so many people in the buidling, it's not like everyone can get a parking spot right infront of the building.  I actually have one of the really really far parking spots.  So you try really really hard to carry all of your stuff in one trip.  And if Giant Supermarket is having a sale, then you have quite a predicament.

What I like to do is to repack all of my groceries so that I bring all of my perishable foods up in one trip, and then another day when I'm already using my car I'll just bring it up with me the next time.  It works pretty well, I don't ever need to try and make additional trips and walk to my car for the sole purpose of getting my other groceries.  Since it is cold, if i forget the occassional vegetables in my car (no I don't eat only canned veggies) the night will keep it fresh and I'll get it the next day.  So it's no big deal.  However, it is getting warm and I forgot some ice cream the other day... and to make a long story short... I need to clean the inside of my car this weekend. 

Other than that the only other problem I had was once I stuffed my chicken legs with my soap so I didn't have to make an extra trip... and i swear those chicken legs tasted funny.  My stomach seemed to agree too.  And the toilet for that matter. 

Regardless, I know I'm not the only one that hates making multiple trips to bring up my groceries.  Today I saw a young lady try and carry a trunk full of groceries as she waited for the elevator.  She had 2 plastic bags rung over each wrist and was a holding a paper bag stuff to the brim holding it in place with her chin.  She lost a little control for a split second and dropped a package of what looked like diapers.

However, I saw it coming and I caught it before it hit the ground.  I held it out to her.  And, hating silence on the elevators, I said

"Good luck with the kid."

She looked at me all shocked and embarassed.  It wasn't until after she looked at me did I really look at the package I thought she dropped.  It was actually tampons.

"Oh... well in that case... good luck with not having the kid."

For some reason that didn't solve the awkwardness as I hoped it would have.

The elevator door opened and I was still holding the tampons (she had no hands to take it) and we got on the elevator.  I asked her what floor. 

"10"

Great... that is my floor.  So I pressed 10.  At this time I was seriously contemplating pressing 9 and getting off at 9 and then walking up to 10 so that I would avoid the awkwardness I knew would occur.

You see, in this wierd society of the dying chivalrous male and the robust growth of feminism also along with the fear of the predatory male... I didn't know if it was appropriate for me to offer to carry her stuff to her apartment (seeing that we lived on the same floor).  I mean I just met her and I already talked about sex.  I was looking like a sketchy predatory male right now.  And from her body language I knew she was kind of uncomfortable with me holding onto her tampons.  They were the pearl variety if you were curious.

So what is a man to do in this situation.  I knew she was uncomfortable... I didn't want to offer and have her worried about me trying to pull something on her, yet as a male I felt it was my duty to be a gentleman and offer her help.  Why couldn't she have dropped something else... like a can of peaches.  You can't make any unexpected sexual innuendos with a can of peaches.  Unless she dropped some cream with those peaches... 

I decided to not press 9 and just go up to the 10 floor. 

With all of this going through my head... the elevator door finally closed.  I decided I would offer to help her carry her stuff up and I had 10 floors to try and regain some trust and decency in her eyes so she could trust me in being a gentleman.

I started off with trying to make her laugh (while shaking the tampons) "Are these any good?"

She didn't laugh like I hoped she would.

"Why would you need them?"  Her body language closed up even more.

Atleast she was finally speaking to me.  She didn't laugh, but opening communication is half the battle.

"My wife makes me run out to get them and I don't know which ones she likes."

I figure... women are a society.  Any girl that sees that a guy has a girlfriend she automatically trusts the guy.  He's in.  He's got something to offer the opposite sex.  He passed some woman's test.  He can't be all bad?  It's like the DMV, if you pass it in one state... you can transfer it to another state. 

Well... I figure if having a girlfriend automatically puts you in the IN... having a wife would really put you in the in.  However... one detailed passed my mind.  I wasn't wearing a ring... which is somethign that didn't pass her keen observation.

"Where's your ring?"

The elevator light just passed floor 4... but I was already at 10 for sketchiness...  Wow all that and we were only on floor 4... we have a very slow elevator.

"My kid ate it.  I'm waiting for him to poop it out."

She finally laughed.

Floor 6.  I got a laugh at floor 6.  Phew!

"Here let me help you with those," I said as I motioned to help her with her bags.

"Oh okay.  Thanks!"  She handed me the bag she was balancing with her chin.

We had some easy chit chat after that.  She lived down the hall from me.  She asked about my kid and so I talked about Dylan.  How he is 2 years old.  And how he poops around the house alot and kicks alot. 

I had her laughing no problem.  My sketchiness was back down to 1 or 2.  Maybe 3.  We got to her place and I said my good byes, but I couldn't help but notice quite a few baby toys in her place.

"Hey thanks a lot for your help.  Maybe you can bring Dylan over and we could have a play date."  Apparently she had a kid too.

"Why would I need to bring Dylan over if we wanted a 'play date?'"  Hahah jk I didn't say it, but i was thinking it.

What I really said was, "ummm sure."  Yeah... not as amusing, but eh... I'm not that witty.

She closed the door and then I realized I really was in a predicament.  I can lie in the office that I have a kid, but now I gotta lie to a person that lives down the hall from me!  And somehow I got an imaginary wife.

I guess I better take the stairs from now on.

I was on my way down the elevator to work in my apartment building.  It was very early.  Although not quite as early as it should have been.  It was around 7:10am.  I am supposed to be at work by 7.  Living only a block from work has its advantages, but sometimes the advantages give one a false sense of comfort… this false sense of comfort and convenience usually outweighs the slight advantage I have in a shortened commute time. 

Say, for instance, if I lived at my parents home in Mclean it would take me 15 minutes to drive to Rosslyn.  I would wake up at 6 and get out of the house by 6:30 (just incase of traffic) and arrive at work well ahead of schedule.  I budget in this extra commute time and am very careful with the variables of traffic.  However, since I live just a block from work now I know I can reduce my commute time to around 3-5 minutes (depending on if I get the walk light at the intersection).  Proper math from an academically sound person would say I should wake up at 6:27 or 6:25 and leave the house at 6:57 or 6:55 to get to work at 7.  Yet, each morning I have this false sense of security living so close to work that I usually wake up at 7, get myself out the door at 7:10 and arrive at work around 7:13 or 7:15 (depending on if I get the walk light at the intersection).  So although I live much close to work now than I did a few months ago, I consistently arrive late to work because I somehow believe that I can wake up at 7 and miraculously get ready and walk to work in less than 1 minute.  I’ve tried, but it never works.  My hair just looks like crap every time I try the 1 minute routine.

Well I do digress.  In any case.  I was coming down the elevator to go to work when the elevator stops at the Lobby.  Lobby in my building is floor #2.  I needed to go to floor number 1.  The door opens and this slightly chubby… just slightly chubby guy is trying to mack on this really cute girl maybe some 10 feet away.  The guy is making the slight motion toward the elevator letting me know that he was planning on taking it and from the lack of motion from the girl I knew she wasn’t taking the elevator.  The slight motion the man made toward the elevator dictates to me that the proper etiquette, I guess, for me to do is to hold to elevator for him.  But I was late and he was taking his damn time.

So I did the etiquette thing of asking him “you going down?”  Which really means… “will you hurry your butt up?”

And he goes, “Yeah can you hold the elevator?”  Which means… well “can you hold the elevator.”

So I hold the “elevator open door” button and wait.  I am already late and I’m not in the mood to wait for some slighty chubby dude throw some horrendous game at some girl who is desperately trying to get away from the conversation.  Mind you.  This is the second floor and going down only means going to the first floor.  1 floor.  Take the stairs!  Don’t waste my time right? 

I look down my cell phone.  7:12.  Wow!  I’m late.  I should be at the intersection even by “Kevin Chin Late Time.” 

Back to the thought that it was only 1 flight of stairs for him to take, I decided that he could use the exercise as I let go of the “open elevator door.”

“Can you hold the elevator?”

“I’m trying.  It’s not working.”  I said as I pressed the invisible button next to the “open elevator door” button.  The invisible button doesn’t do anything I mind you.  Actually it does one thing.  It makes it look like you are pressing the “open door button” when you really aren’t doing anything at all.

As the door closes the slightly chubby guy tries to reach the elevator but misses it as it closes.  I could make a joke about the irony of him having to take the stairs and him not being quick enough to reach the elevator, but I’m not that mean.  If you put the ironic joke together then… get a good laugh and then know that deep down YOU are in fact… really THAT mean. 

As it closes I said, “Take the stairs.”  And under my breath say, “You could use it.”  I said it so quietly I’m sure he couldn’t hear it.  Actually I’m sure only the people in the elevator could hear it.  Which is probably something I should have checked before I started laughing to myself at the joke I made.

I entered the elevator so tired that morning that I didn’t check if anyone was in the elevator.  Actually I never do.  I’m going to work butt early and I’m not really in the mood to be sociable.

And to my shock and amazement.  I learned one interesting thing that morning when I turned to see if anyone was in the elevator. 

I learn that the really old conservative lady in my office that thinks I’m a horrible and neglecting father to my made-up 2 year old son Dylan… I learn that she lives in that building too.  I learn that because as I was in the elevator pressing the invisible button on the elevator panel that does nothing and made my “take the stairs… you could use it” comment, she was right behind me.

Needless to say the next 3-5 minute walk to work was very awkward.  I could have just burned her and walked at my own pace to work, but I kind of felt this obligation… this etiquette to walk with her because we were going to the same place.  So I walked with her and what resulted was the longest strained 7-9 minute conversation ever.  It was filled with awkward pauses that arise on first dates and had such arousing questions as “what did you have for dinner?”  “What detergent do you use?”  “Do you use the dishwasher?”  It was filled with weird looks and furrowed old white judgmental eyebrows.  Those judgmental eyebrows are hers… if you were wondering… I don’t judge people… especially old people or people that hold up others while throwing horrendous game at girls way above their league.  It was 7-9 minute walk because she was old and walked very slow and she works on the same floor as I do… so we took the elevator up to our floor.

It was during this elevator ride to our floor that I decided I wasn’t going to try and redeem my reputation with her.  She thinks I’m a delinquent and a horrible father.  If I’m bad… be bad.  So I am not going to try and be nice to her anymore.  I’m not going to fake be a good kid.  I think it would be fun to just be pure rotten to one person all day… everyday.

As we parted ways I asked her what time it was.

“7:20.  Have a great day.”

And to this I replied, “Don’t tell me what to do.”  And I walked away toward my office. 

I knew she was staring at me in shock.  I felt the eyes.  So I turned around and said, “Oh yeah.  And you are late” I said as I stared at my watch-less wrist.  “20 minutes late to be exact.  Get to work.”