I caught up with Will today to talk about his No Asians 2008 progress. I’ll paraphrase what he had to say.
“It’s tougher than I ever thought it would be. I see opportunities everywhere, everyone calls me ‘retarded’ when I tell them about the pledge, and in my weaker moments I almost agree with them. But I’ve come this far, and I have to press on. It’s getting hard. I can deal with Asian girls approaching me or grabbing me on dance floors, but not much more than that. And what the hell? The Playboy Playmate of the Month for November 2008 is Korean?!?! The centerfold is reserved for White girls and, on occasion, White-looking Black girls. It’s too dangerous to the populous to put an Asian girl in that spot.
“I was sitting in the den, minding my business, when I saw her out of the corner of my eye. I knew it was trouble. I didn’t have to check her out to know she was beautiful because I could gauge it from the voice inflections of the guy who first started talking to her. I could see the 6-second glances she took at me to try to pry my attention, but I held onto a solemn ignorance about it even if it was prolonging the inevitable. Do you ever see a girl, just see her, and start hearing music in the background? You’re done when that happens. I couldn’t, and didn’t, look.
“My plan backfired when I saw her getting dressed in my room (it was a mixed dorm) two hours later as I was waking up from a nap. I initially avoided direct conversation, choosing a more indirect means. Eventually I led on that she had earned my full attention, which turned the sexual tension between us from medium to piping hot. At this point we talked directly for 2 minutes about things that were less important for their content than they were for their comfort.
“When she left for Paris I felt more foolish than I had in several years, maybe more than that. My hands were literally trembling. Everything I knew about women told me to hold on to my stoicism at all costs, but everything I knew about life told me it was foolish not to indulge because it might not happen again. I thought I’d lost my mind until I saw a tear fall out of her eye as she looked at me over her right shoulder. I immediately looked at the floor when she left my sight to stay in that moment for as long as possible.
“A Finnish guy came into the room as she was leaving, which would have been mildly awkward if he didn’t back-glance to check her out as she walked away. This led to the following exchange between us in heavily broken English:
“So… this girl, you sleep with her together?”
I chuckle and keep looking at the floor.
“I tell you… I know I, uh, wouldn’t mind”
He paused for a second to assess. Then he flurried around in his backpack until he found a leather-coated flask. He handed it to me saying “trust me, this you need” and I took several swigs of what tasted like Vodka mixed with Ouzo. We spent a solid 5 minutes talking about asses before heading to a bar down the street. I forgot about her as the minutes dripped by, which filled me with bursts of shame that came and went. Then she faded into the past like the other girls I used to think about. They call that being “over it” I think.