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| Valentine's dinner at Château Maggie |
After a two-month period of exile, I returned to Hong Kong - my beloved "City on Crack." I was scared and insecure, because what if I couldn't recognize the city anymore? What if the city couldn't recognize or love ME anymore?
Yeah, I have issues. Mostly, I have a desperate need to be liked. It's sick. I've worked my butt off to know everything about Hong Kong so that I could launch a charm offensive on the city and her infamously manic denizens. But just when I thought I was finally getting somewhere - owning Mr Gay Hong Kong, writing a column for the monthly LGBT magazine, love, friendship, career - the city fucking kicks me out. I get deported.
So of course I was scared shitless about coming back.
It's a bit easier to forget about life, in general, whilst one is in exile in beautiful locales. Singapore! Sorsogon! Sapporo! But when life looms large once again after a final (hopefully) confrontation with intimidating Immigration officers at the border, there's little else to do to stay distracted.
It's a bit easier to forget about life, in general, whilst one is in exile in beautiful locales. Singapore! Sorsogon! Sapporo! But when life looms large once again after a final (hopefully) confrontation with intimidating Immigration officers at the border, there's little else to do to stay distracted.
I hid myself, never spoke with anyone, kept my hyperactive mouth shut. I studiously ignored e-mail, Facebook, my phone, everything.
It was an epic effort. I'm a multimedia whore.
But on Valentine's Day, I had to come out. Literally. It was my first day of work.
I had to prove to this city that I really, really wanted to be here. That I fucking belong here.
I survived my first day of work, to my relief. No emotional meltdown whatsoever, despite that I must have moved around like I was walking on eggshells. I'm just about the loudest, most un-subtle person I know.
It was an epic effort. I'm a multimedia whore.
Chris was away on a work trip, which was kind of a relief. I didn't have to deal with the pressure of being anyone's charming Valentine's dinner date.
Except Hong Kong's, my beloved "City on Crack."
I marched towards 7-11. I grabbed two Carlsberg King Cans. I downed both quickly, thirstily. I waved a cab down. I joined my friends for dinner at Château Maggie.
And I immediately collapsed.
Just like old times.
Hong Kong, I love you.
