After much cajoling, I finally agreed to meet JZ’s Japanese colleague, H. Apparently, she thought we would be a good match because he’s single and ready to mingle, and because I’m interested in Japanese culture.
To clarify: I’m interested in Japanese culture and history, in general. But I’m generally not interested in Japanese men. I did have that one teenage crush on my downstairs neighbour, but my ears don’t prick up and I don’t gird my loins especially for Japanese guys like a sarong party girl or those crazed Hallyu fans might at any mention of a Caucasian or Korean name (honestly, that “oppa” rubbish, eeyur).
Also, I think JZ herself is actually interested in H – but I think she’s projecting her feelings for him on to me lah.
Anyway, I met them at a restaurant nearby their office after work. The plan was – JZ had told me excitedly, almost breathlessly actually – that she would introduce the both of us to each other, help break the ice for maybe an hour or two over makan, and then leave us on our own for drinks and maybe more ;b (yes, she included a winky emoticon, honestly). Continue reading