Okay so, the first thing I need to clarify is: although the photo suggests otherwise, I am a die-hard fan of the Duck couple. Since Daisy's pink bow is less iconic than mouse's ears, also up to this point Disney haven't invented wearable beak (in which I'm 100% sure it will help me to get more matches), so I chose to wear the headband that I bought at a Disney on Ice event a couple of years ago.
Looking at that particular photo, a guy from Japan, according to his personal standard, asked if I happened to be a supermodel. For a split second, I thought he really needs to take an eyesight test.
Talking about another Japanese expat (now you can guess my type!), which actually also the first time I met someone from Tinder—I ended up alone in my rent room, confused at how rude he was when we were having a light drink. He was talking in his broken English about going to have a farewell party thrown for him at his apartment and occasionally emphasizing the word 'FUCKING' several times in his sentences, like, '...my FUCKING friends are going to have a FUCKING farewell party for me,' and I sincerely couldn't recall the rest since he hadn't mentioned anything that worth remembering and had the meaning of 'oh I should come with him'. The only good thing was, he left me, frustrated, with two Rp100k bills to pay for our drinks (which cost less than that and as a broke first-jobber, I kept the change. HA!) Later I learned two things from my poor ability in reading social cues: 1) that perhaps God had saved me from going home with that weirdo, and apparently, 2) this is also the reason I never had a boyfriend in my entire, soon-to-be 27 years old life. Dang it! (I'm so sorry for the guys who ever got close to me during my school and college years!—as I internally shout into the void of my memories.)
(to be continued)
Talking about another Japanese expat (now you can guess my type!), which actually also the first time I met someone from Tinder—I ended up alone in my rent room, confused at how rude he was when we were having a light drink. He was talking in his broken English about going to have a farewell party thrown for him at his apartment and occasionally emphasizing the word 'FUCKING' several times in his sentences, like, '...my FUCKING friends are going to have a FUCKING farewell party for me,' and I sincerely couldn't recall the rest since he hadn't mentioned anything that worth remembering and had the meaning of 'oh I should come with him'. The only good thing was, he left me, frustrated, with two Rp100k bills to pay for our drinks (which cost less than that and as a broke first-jobber, I kept the change. HA!) Later I learned two things from my poor ability in reading social cues: 1) that perhaps God had saved me from going home with that weirdo, and apparently, 2) this is also the reason I never had a boyfriend in my entire, soon-to-be 27 years old life. Dang it! (I'm so sorry for the guys who ever got close to me during my school and college years!—as I internally shout into the void of my memories.)
(to be continued)