136. A deep discussion in the rain
The "party venting and ghosting event" is an interesting phenomenon that Scandinavian people do (according to my European friends). The scenario goes like this:
- A Scandinavian person enters a party
- They get drunk
- They talk to you about their personal lives which can include: family drama, relationship history, mental state at the moment, hopes, dreams, etc.
- It's a lot of venting and sharing a lot of secrets and a lot of drinking
- The next day, they are hung over and ghost you... even if you had that deep and interesting discussion last night...
I couldn't find an exact video that displays this exact thing, but I found a video from Dating Beyond Borders that shows what I'm talking about.
I believe that the "party venting and ghosting event" is not just limited to the Scandinavians. Many people have experienced such a thing. I feel like I can coin it as a "drive-by trauma dump" or something along those lines. I usually don't mind it, if it's "good-intentioned". Usually, it never is. Sometimes people just want someone to talk to. Sometimes people are just lonely.
I asked about this special phenomenon to my Danish friend, wondering about why exactly this happens. I believe that it happens to me often, but I'm often at the receiving end of the ghosting, usually never the phantom myself. (I'm not even drunk with the person! It just happens!). He said one of the most kindest words to me, that I'll have to summarize with this comment:
"When people are used to being instantly judged when they share something that deviates from the norm, it's a massive relief to meet someone that does not do that."
I went on a date with a nice Algerian guy who lived in Paris. Unlike the previous guy, he wasn't obnoxious and definitely didn't have anger issues (or any weird tendencies as far as I'm concerned). I didn't want to give him the exact same write-up prompt. I believe that he doesn't deserve a bullet list of facts and unhinged commentary because he seemed like a genuine person (I don't think he kidnaps people). He called himself "basic," but I really didn't mind it.
I thought that he was quite reserved and had many walls up. I know it takes time for people to open up and ease into themselves, but I think this guy's not a really hard nut to crack. Not to toot my own horn, but perhaps that other guy was right when he told me that I got a face that people can tell their deepest darkest secrets to. However, I really don't think that was the case.
I met him at the train station. I think he was really surprised to see me. I was an American forgoer of the "French bise," because I find the custom a little weird, even pre-Covid time, but I still revel in the la culture française. Also, this is just a silly commentary - but I think that we were wearing similar colors in clothing. It was very complementary. He wore a long brown shirt and blue pants, I wore a brown skirt with blue flowers and a blue collared tank top. I thought that we looked like a matching pair and I found it quite amusing.
--
After deciding on where to eat, I led him to one of the "high-end" banana leaf places down the street. After making a little small talk during our south Indian meal of rice, vegetables and curry, I found out that this man arrived in the city about 3 days ago. I was under the impression that he was going to stay here for a while, but I was a little disappointed to hear that he might be touching down in Thailand in a week. Everyone always goes to Thailand.
He seemed a little overwhelmed- about the food, about the environment, about the loudness of the music blaring in our ears. Most of all, I thought that he was overwhelmed by me. I don't think of myself as super outspoken, but I've been taking more steps in my life to be show up as more authentic and genuine as a person, rather than shelling up and keeping my thoughts to myself. I had the terrible habit of not saying what I feel, what I mean, and what I want- so I've been taking active steps to change it. I think that this guy had such the culture shock when I started going on and on about different countries and different personal stories. I tried to bring it back to earth by asking him about different travel experiences and France.
He told me that he was just in Dubai before he arrived to Malaysia. I asked about his opinion on it first. He said that he adored it. I countered his commentary with a snide remark on how plastic it probably felt. My stance on Dubai is laced with uncomfortable thoughts. It's pretty verifiable that Dubai uses slave labor. The employers there keep passports hostage and many of the workers can't get out of the system, because they are literally stuck. The conditions are horrible - many people die during the construction of that city. What seems to make Dubai a bit more egregious is when you factor in that the city is designed to attract very rich people. So it's not like they couldn't pay these workers well or use a more traditional labor force, they just don't have to- or just don't want to.
He was a little bit taken aback by my strong opinion on a city I've never visited. I feel like I should visit it once, but never live, let alone, return to there again. I have a little bit of an icky feeling towards an artificial and glittery city catered towards the high and wealthy. Although, he said that he enjoyed his experience there, we bridged the gap of understanding.
"The buildings are beautiful, the things there are interesting, but yes, to be honest. I might agree with you- I think I would be over it if I stayed more than a few days there." is what he essentially told me.
We switched the conversation back to something safer- like France.
I always like hearing about different perspectives on France. I haven't been there yet. He is one of the first people I've met who is Algerian and the first person I've spoken to (only one-on-one) that lives in Paris. I had some privy knowledge about Paris, information that is mostly sourced from my French friends in the south who complained about it, the famous French films that I had watched before, and different books and history lessons I learned from.
One of my first impressions of Paris is formed by biased experiences from my father, who said that he had a "difficult time because his language skills were poor" and that the "city was so dirty, but the people were even yuckier" by the way they treated him. He said that everywhere else in France was beautiful and the people were a lot nicer, but that he told me not to "stay too long in the capital." It seemed like my companion agreed with me, but to an extent. One of the most notable things he said about his city was:
"Just by looking at you, I believe you have a 50% chance of getting robbed in Paris." he said with a playful smile. Sarcasm or not, I feel so paranoid around new cities that I would probably be on high alert anyway.
I asked him if he wanted to go to the botanical gardens with me. I was super surprised when he said that he was down to go right after we finished lunch. I led him to the train station again and let him use my transport card. It was a quick commute to our destination.
It was his first time in Southeast Asia and he was still trying to gather his bearings. He had one clumsy comment of "I actually don't really think of Asian culture that much, like it didn't cross my mind at all." to which I responded with generous curiosity, not contempt: "You don't think of Asian culture?" He tried to backtrack and explain what he was trying to say, and that he didn't mean any disrespect or ignorance. It's okay. I don't really know much about North African culture, to be honest.
We walked around the giant man-made lake where we saw a couple chickens on the isolated island with a chicken coop. I joked that the gardeners just have to sail a little boat to feed them every day. It was a humid and somewhat toasty day, so we tried to hide under the tree canopy during our promenade. He listened more than he spoke.
I felt like I was simply talking nonsense out of my ass. I continued to blab about everything that my mind conjured up - about the weather, about the current scenery, about different things that my friends have said to me the other day. I didn't know if I was scaring him or if I was being interesting.
We took a train back to the city center and I asked him if he wanted to go to the mall (mainly for the air conditioning because it was such a humid day). We exited the station right in front of a really large mall and saw many things. At the entrance, there was a ice cream shop that sold really really tall ice cream cones. We watched an influencer girl beg her instagram boyfriend to take a photo of her strawberry and vanilla cone that was the size of her torso (well, honestly, she did not have a really big torso). We went up the escalator and stumbled across a famous Japanese grocery store. He was curious so we headed inside of the store, where we saw a floor filled with tiny snacks and desserts. I tried to entertain him by reading all of the Japanese labels on each of the food items for sale. He thought that it was such a shock when I changed my accent. I was flattered that he thought my Japanese skills are cute, but it's just the way language works, right? I told him that his voice changes when he speaks French.
"I can't talk French to you."
"But why"
"I just can't. You are not French."
I felt a bit sad. I can understand way better than I can produce the words, but I just want to try. I've run into the problem where my French friends have a tendency to speak only English with me, because my French conversation skills are quite frankly nul. I've been trying to get from 80% English/20% French to 50% English/50% French in my conversations these days. It's a bit difficult.
I bought two green tea drinks and a bag of grape gummies for us to share. I really wanted my new companion to try these snacks, so we tried to find a place to sit down and chill out.
We made our way up to the gardens on top of the building. It was one of the most quietest places in the heart of the city. Once we sat down, we started chatting away again.
When I mentioned the "Scandinavian phenomenon" at the very start of this story, I wanted to tie that in. I believe that I have this weird curse on me. I spend a day with someone and we do many things. They decide to open up to me and we have really deep discussions. It happens very often with me. I don't want to be super arrogant about it, but it just happens. I had this conversation with many of my friends about why I always get the trauma dump-truck.
Maybe I got the face that people can unpack their deepest problems to. I've noticed that I've made a lot of new friends this past year and they feel safe and secure about talking to me about their issues. I told a friend about this situation, and she told me, "it's incredible. a testament to how comfortable you make people."
At this point, I had only met him for 3 hours and we were already discussing our personal thoughts about family, about relationships, about society in general. To be honest, we did not force each other to talk about such things- the conversation just flowed. We just so happened to have a deep conversation for no apparent reason. The atmosphere was nice, we were pretty much alone in our own thoughts, we were sitting in a green garden on a bench together. We had literally just met each other for a couple of hours.
I broke the seriousness of our conversation with some snacks. The grape gummies are one of my favorite Japanese candies that I like to eat and I wanted to share a bit of my culture to my new friend. I was reading the label in the back of the bag and said outloud:
"Oh hey, it contains pork!"
Then he immediately spit the candy in his hand. I felt so horrified when that happened. I was a little bit scared at that very moment. Not a nice first impression and we've only been hanging out for a couple of hours at this point.
It started to sprinkle outside. We found refuge under a large umbrella and sat at a table. We continued our deep conversation, but we both stopped to realize that maybe we've gone way too deep. He told me that he needed a few minutes to process all of this. I sat across from him in silence and rested my feet on the chair next to me. The hesitancy in the air between us was palpable.
We both took a photo of this view... hahahahaha
Rain started to pour down hard on us and we were both stuck under the umbrella. We had a choice to either wait for the rain to stop or make a run for it. The rain started getting louder and louder, so I switched seats to sit right next to him.
"Oh man, you have such a nice view of the garden from this side." I say.
"Well, I had a nicer view before, but you moved seats."
French people can't help but look beautiful, live in the moment, and be charming. It's in their DNA.
--
It was getting late and I had plans later to meet with my friends in Chinatown in the evening. We decided to make a run for it in the rain. I hugged the part of the building that had a bit of the roof sticking out, so at least I had protection from the rain. I thought that we were going to run for a long time, but the entrance was just around the corner. We both laughed.
I kind of wanted to stay under the umbrella and talk a bit more, but we needed a change of scenery. I've ran out of things to say and it seems like this guy was pretty self-aware about how deep we've gotten, that he clammed up. I didn't want him to feel uncomfortable around me, but I definitely did think that it was a lot of deep discussion, especially for a first date.
There are many factors about this that probably led to why we went too deep:
- The vacation air - We're in a new place together. We do not have the luxury of time. When you are in a foreign country, you may have studied up on the societal norms of that country, but they are often different, even wildly so from what to you are your daily norm. Thus, you fall back on just being yourself and try to just go with the flow.
- Lack of expectations. He said to me: just turn your brain off (I thought it was great advice)
- Maybe I'm just that easy-going? Who knows.
We had to go different directions when we reached the train station. It was a strange couple of hours, but I didn't really mind it. I invited him to join my friends and I for a drink, but he said that he didn't want to make any promises and said: "Okay, maybe." I doubted that he would show up to be honest.
After receiving my French bise and a quick goodbye, I had to go home and rush to Chinatown.
~ a secret-keeper,
<3 K