Steph Not Stephanie

A friend, upon reading my previous posts, recently asked if I have ever had any luck with men. I’m pretty sure he was serious. I know these stories may not show it, but I actually don’t dislike men (even after two years working at Ashley Madison), and I have had some lovely experiences with wonderful people. However, they’re not funny, and this isn’t Steph’s Super Shiny Sweet Sappy Sentimental Spot (I went as far with the alliteration as I possibly could).

So, without further ado, back down the rabbit hole we go.

This one started innocently enough: a friend of a friend showed interest, and said friend set up a double date. He was actually quite charming, and showed up with a Latin dictionary instead of flowers (she and I were taking a Latin class together), and everyone knows dictionaries are my favourite (seriously, not joking). Things went pretty well, and we had a few dates. At the time, I was still pretty impressed with my first tattoo, and he mentioned he had one as well, but he wanted to “surprise me.” Mission accomplished. Imagine how surprised I was when he revealed a Honda symbol on his upper back.

Needless to say, we didn’t work out (my commitmentphobia and his race to the altar didn’t play well), but I did run into him at that same friend’s baby’s birthday party not too long ago. When I was telling another friend how I knew everyone from the sidelines, I said, “I used to date him.” “Oh,” bellowed my friend, “is that Honda Tattoo?” Exit, party of Steph.

This next story actually inspired last year’s Halloween costume. After an adult slumber party in Korea, I woke up and decided to go home around 8am. I lived just around the block, so I figured I’d walk, even though I was appropriately dressed for the bar, not the judgemental light of the sun. About halfway there, a veritable army of Korean school children emerged from what seemed like thin air on their way to Saturday school. How could I forget Saturday school?! Nothing beats a hungover walk of shame like having a bunch of kids yell, “Waiguk, waiguk!” while you’re wearing last night’s makeup. The Halloween costume was a hit though; a woman even tried to fix my busted clothes on the subway on the way to work.

Korea was definitely an eye-opening experience. During my third week there, we had school holidays and I went to Jeju island with a few other teachers. We were enjoying some beer, down by the river (as one does in Korea), and an elderly drunk man joined our merry group. He kept laughing and saying things I didn’t understand (I knew about three phrases at that point), until he reached over, honked my boob, said, “Number One,” and gave me the thumbs up. Um, kamsahamnida? It set me up for a year of boob issues. Women, men, the occasional student as I corrected their work — everyone felt the need to feel me up. The kicker was the jellyfish that made its way into the top of my bathing suit. Memories to last a lifetime indeed.

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