Circle, the resident NYC go-to for all things Korean partying, is a prey-hunting grounds of epic potential, where men and women alike throw their reservations to the wind and drink and dry hump everything in sight. Hence, once my inhibitions had been sufficiently lowered with generous quantities of whisky and vodka poured for me by un-intriguing men I’d been booked to only somewhat willingly, I decided I’d make my own acquaintances here on out. I turned to the guys at the table next to me and tapped the guy nearest me.
“This table I’m at’s kind of boring,” I said, raising my glass in a friendly hello. “Mind if I join you?”
Turns out it was Darren’s birthday, and he wasn’t having a very good time. Until I got there, of course. So what did we do? Started throwing back more shots.
After we’d gotten sufficiently club-acquainted, Darren asked me for a dance. To my immense pleasure, Darren was an incredible dancer. We started breaking it down on the floor.
A few songs later, we had drifted over to the back section of Circle, where the crowd was beginning to thin out and we had some breathing room. A girl happened to be passing by with her friend, when she seemed to catch sight of Darren. She did a double take, making sure that it was him, really him. Her face lit up.
“Darren!” she screamed, running up to him and throwing her arms around his neck. Wives reunited with their soldier husbands after a long deployment overseas could not have looked more ecstatic than this chick.
Meanwhile, Darren face had crumpled into a look of utter astonishment and consternation. His eyes swiveled around, looking at me with an awkward and panicked expression on his face. If he didn’t look so utterly pained, I would have burst out laughing right then and there.
Darren quickly wrenched himself from the girl’s death grip and gently pushed the girl off. They started talking, Darren all the while glancing at me to make sure I hadn’t left. I watched on with interest, resting my right elbow on my left hand and propping my chin up with my fist.
At first, the girl was all smiles, talking excitedly and brushing her hand against Darren’s unreceptive arm as often as possible. But as Darren earnestly tried to brush her off, slowly her smile disintegrated into a frown. Simultaneously, her voice began escalating, from high-pitched girly tittering to rage-fueled thunderous booming.
Suddenly, she turned to me. Her eyes flashed like Christmas, flickering between red and green. I threw my hands up in the air, my polite deferment from their business, but she didn’t care. Walking over, she threw an arm around my neck and thrust her lips into my ear.
“Yeah, you’re having sex with him tonight,” she said, giving my a congratulatory squeeze squeeze. “Do it, you’re going to CATCH AN STD!!!”
Then she stormed off.
Darren immediately apologized, to which I laughed and told him I sincerely didn’t care, especially since it made for a very convenient excuse when he tried to take me home later that night.