In May I went to see Reina to get my teeth cleaned as she is a dental hygiene student at Riverside Community College. She said my teeth is pretty clean in terms of little plaque and bacterial build-up, but that I need to buy a dental guard because I clench/grind my teeth at night. She told her professor that I’m a PhD student at UC Riverside, and coincidentally the professor knew my adviser. Anyways, the prof said something like this, “And I thought you were one of the most laid-back grad students I’ve met. But one look at your teeth, and I can tell where you take your stress on!” I’m a horrible nocturnal teeth grinder; more like I bite down hard. These days, I’m so stressed about finishing up, I catch myself biting down during the day. Most mornings, I wake up with a sore jaw. It’s so bad. I did buy a dental guard, but it’s not very comfortable. I wake up with either the guard somewhere by my pillow or still inside my mouth out of position.
Besides worrying about finishing up my degree, I’ve been wondering when Albie and I will get married. I’d say that back in January/February, I’ve been trying to steer our conversations to that topic without trying to sound too obvious. Then during April when Nancy and Isaac got married, I asked Joy and Richard about their wedding planning, in which I am genuinely interested, but my good friends were helping me guide the conversation towards Albert. In July, Risako (who’s getting married in November) said, “I look forward to hearing good news from you soon!” (I lerve my girlfriends, they’re smart, smart people.) These days, I’m just fed up with innuendos; I just straight up ask him. I’m sure most girls dream of having an extravagant wedding, custom fit to their own liking. And while I’d like to plan a wedding to my own liking, extravagance is not on my mind. It’s more like, the more stripped down it is the better (No, Vegas is the last thing on my mind). Call me antisocial, but what I do with the man I love is private matter. Why would I want my relatives to stare at me when I say “I do”? It would be nice, but not necessary, if my closest friends were there to share my happiness with me. It’s about me and him, and just the two of us is all it’s needed. But no, the mother-in-law already said we have to “do something.” So I’m not off the hook. My parents are just as antisocial as I am: The less we do the better. Let’s hope we’ll come to a compromise somehow.
The truth is, yes I want to get married. But not because I can’t wait to wear a wedding dress and be a princess for a day. These days, my biological clock is telling me I need to have babies. Before, babies annoy me: They scream; they cry; they poop. It’s 24/7 surveillance on someone who can’t tell you exactly what s/he wants and it’s a guessing game. I do not like ambiguity. When my high school teacher’s wife had twin girls, my classmates all said, “Oh, how cute!” and wanted to hold the newborns. But I just didn’t want any part of it. Nowadays though, it would be nice to hold a baby, don’t you think? But please, NO BABY TALK. You don’t need to stand on a pedestal and lower your intelligence so the baby can understand you. It’s insulting. Babies are smart, or at least our babies will be.
Albert’s roommate has a completely different lifestyle as we do. He likes to get together with the guys and schmooze at the hot tub at an adjacent apartment complex. Apparently the hot tub is party sized; it can fit 30 people. That sounds both impressive and disgusting at the same time. Anyways, Albert calls it Ry Ry-kun’s ogling sessions (the sessions I mean, I call him Ry Ry-kun behind his back). This guy picks up women as easily as picking vegetables at a grocery store. And if he’s not interested at the moment, he gets their numbers and saves them for a rainy day. Albert asked him how he does it, and apparently it’s proprietor’s secret. The other day, I was thinking what the two of us would be like if we didn’t end up together, and how it would be like if we were at our present state but single. Albert would probably be like his brother, Fej (working and single), or he would’ve found a engineering girlfriend, or some really hot chick – basically anything goes. As for me, I probably would either be hopelessly single or with a FOBby boyfriend. Hmm, no, not a FOB. I don’t know what. Anyways, the dating pool at UCR was horrible. I made friends with some great guys there, but they’re not boyfriend material. And dating college boys just make me seem like a cougar – although there was a student of mine who had a crush on me (it was cute at first, then got creepy – it’s an entire blog entry on its own) and some TA evaluations had nothing to do with my teaching abilities…
The point is, dating is hard. I would not know what to say or do if I need to give a good first impression. When Albert flew back from his high school friend’s wedding in Ohio, I told him I’d wear something nice. And I got all excited like a teenager. But the morning of, I had no idea what to wear! especially since my wardrobe for the last 5 years consisted of the crappiest jeans and t-shirts to wear to lab. I changed at least 4 times and I was late picking him up. Well, at least he liked my outfit. So, I empathize with people in the dating game. Because it’s hard. How do you make a good impression that you’re interested in the person yet not to be too insistent (i.e. slutty)? How do you turn something down? When do you start calling the other person your boyfriend? Ahh, I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about that anymore. And thinking back, I was so stupidly ignorant, I don’t think I realized that I was going through those steps in a relationship. And besides, dating back then was just to find someone to eat or practice kissing with. Now, I’d date to find a potential husband. If the guy isn’t up to par with my already-low standards (well, they’re low in my mind: just a PhD – muahaha…), then I wouldn’t even bat an eyelash at him.
But my kissing partner turns out to be the real deal. The two of us are so comfortable with each other, it’s just funny. Albert would make jingles or songs to any words or phrases in our conversations. Sometimes, I just let him do his thing and stay silent, waiting for him to catch himself in the act. Sometimes, I ask him, “Do you do this when you’re alone or just when we’re together?” (He says he doesn’t know.) Or we’d be lying on the bed watching TV, and he’d say, “I need to poot,” as in telling me to stay away from him. I think before, he’d at least get off the bed himself and fart elsewhere. But now he just tells me. I think it’s because he already knows that I’m OK with it, but I’ll still reply to confirm, “OK, you do that.” Most recently, he doesn’t even tell me. He just farts next to me, or better yet, on me. I’m sure to the rest of the world, I sound even more disgusting than him, letting someone fart on me. But that’s how we are to each other – no more pretenses or making nice impressions; and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
In the end, we’re all selfish people and want the best for ourselves. But it annoys me a little that when Albert and I are next to each other, my hands naturally start massaging his shoulders. I don’t even notice it at first, only when my thumbs start to get sore. Couple weekends ago, my brother-in-law, Eric, caught me massaging Albert at their house in Clayton (by Walnut Creek). It was embarrassing, usually I’d only do it when Albert and I are alone. But my sister doesn’t like massages (I think she just hasn’t seen the light, that poor girl). Oh well – as long as Albie massages my sore thumbs afterwards, I’d gladly massage him when I see him. Even if I hate to exercise, at least I have really buff thumb muscles…
Current Mood: 
grateful
mischievous