Monday, May 21, 2007


By: Ernie Hsiung

To cap off my very first II stix article in my semi-regular column, I asked Chris about a subject to write about. Anything off the top of his noggin (And he has a pretty big head too. If you’ve ever met him in person, you know what I’m sayin).

“I dunno. Why don’t you write about relationships?”

Great. Fucking wonderful. Of all the things to write about, I’m writing about relationships. For me at least, writing about relationships is as awkward as walking into your local drug store to buy anal suppositories for your grandma. Not that I would know of course (giant loudspeaker at Rite-Aid: “MISTER SHWING, YOUR ANUSOL IS NOW AVAILABLE AT THE PHARMACY COUNTER. MISTER H-S-I-U-N-G, SHWING.").

Relationships huh? Well, I’m not going to talk about the delicate balance of satisfying your partner’s physical needs with your own, because let’s face it… I don’t know a lot of that shit. If you must know, I hooked up with someone once at 19, and that lasted all of 21 days. Besides, if you wanna be all sexual and horny like that, why are you still reading this damn article? Do you know how many naked Asian chicks are on the Internet? Damn pervs.

What I will talk about are the times when you’re with your crew, your tribe, your circle of compadres that promise to forever keep it “bros before hoes.” And then, one by one, like little duckies at the carnival target range… BLAAM! They get shot down by the rifle o’ love (and for some, a little less love and a little more “get-some").

Okay, maybe “bros before hoes” was a little crass for all of the now-pissed-off Asian women out there, but you know what I’m sayin. The feeling of betrayal as your once loyal friends decide to spend all their energy studying for a class called “Girlfriend/Boyfriend 101.” For 20 units. Pass/No Pass.

I have gotten the short end of the proverbial stick plenty of times. There are those times when your friends try to be all coy and slick about relationships, boasting to their friends when they’re all out drinking…

“See Ern, it ain’t about da HOOK-UP,” one of my then-close friends says to me, Corona in his hand, eyes glazed over staring at the Soy Milk calendar girl on the wall. “It’s all about the CHASE!”

Guys proceed to growl in approval and high-five each other. And then, less than three months later, he’s playing personal valet and chauffeur to an Asian sorority girl, angry plucked eyebrows and all…

“I’m craving ice cream. Drive me to Baskin-Robbins.”

“Yes, hunny-bunny (whip cracking sound).”

And what about “da boys?” Ditched…

Then there’s the story of my two good friends from college (all parties shall remain nameless) dating sisters. Very, uhmm, assertive sisters. While I have nothing against either of my friends’ girlfriends personally, the girls have pretty high expectations of their boyfriends, expecting them to do everything from reading minds ("WHAT’S WRONG?? WHY DON’T YOU GUESS WHAT’S WRONG?! WRONG ANSWER!! [whack]") to acting as walking, talking Filipino accessories. For one of the guys, it’s his first girlfriend, so he’s more attentive than a fourteen year-old boy with a fake ID and a free pass to a strip bar. The other guy just got engaged to his girlfriend. All of this means I will be seeing neither of them until the next Olympic Ceremony. In Greece. I’m treading on thin ice now, so I’ll leave it at that.

Maybe another analogy would be useful. Remember that scene from Bambi, where winter thaws and all the woodland creatures hook up one-by-one for a little spring lovin, and Bambi is left by himself creekside? Yep. That’s me. I’m Bambi.

From here, many of you will be thinking one of two things, “Damn, Ernie, I can completely relate. You’re absolutely correct, right on the nose.” But most of you will be thinking, “Damn, get over yourself you ugly, bitter, sardonic Chinese boy. Just because you ain’t getting none, you ain’t got no game, you just sidelined.”

To which I answer, “I may be sidelined, but at least I ain’t whipped.” (Oooooh.)

I guess my question to all the whipped people in the world is, “Is it really worth it?” And that’s not meant to be a rhetorical question either, because I’m really asking if it’s worth the possible mental and emotional anguish of kowtowing to the Herculean requests of a significant other. Not to mention all the trash-talking that your friends say behind your back. And make no mistake, whipped boy/girlfriends of the world, your friends ARE talking smack about you. They’re also making fun of that hoopty ‘87 Volkswagon Jetta that you drive around as well.

If all the abuse isn’t worth it, why bother? How can anyone become so passive? And speaking for all the “sidelined” friends in the world, would it kill you to acknowledge the shoulders you cry on when you get in your fourth fight of the day with your boyfriend? Or kickin it every once in a while with someone whom you DON’T get any nookie from? That’s all we ask for, really.

And if all the abuse truly is worth it, then… uhmm… can you hook me up with a date?

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