Time to Celibate

There I was - no job, no money, no chick, no family and didn't know where life was heading. But I was still having a great time drinking, partying and socialising. Meeting people, learned and experienced things I've never imagined I would.

I had it all but I gave up for this. I can't help it from time to time, I'll ask myself if it this was worth it.


Totally!

Chicks

are abundant but somehow I didn't "see" anyone interesting. Got chatted up by an Irish girl in Soho, we talked the whole night and she was amazed by the huge content inside my little head. She was totally into me and couldn't wait to see me next. I asked to meet the following weekend but she called to say that's too long. She wanted to see me middle of the week. Fine, she was the one having to take a two hour train to central London. I took her to Kensington Gardens, just across the road from where I lived. It was a totally sweet, old skool, innocent, we drank Coke in a park date. Well, I'm old skool and sweet.

But sparks didn't fly... on my side.


It's amazing how much people dressed up for clubbing, so much so that they are almost unrecognisable the next day. Lesson of the day, don't meet people in clubs and date them during the day unless you're prepared to be surprised.

We went for my favourite ice-cream afterwards (again, my idea) and it seemed like a totally pukey sweet date in the 50s. She was
completely melted by the ice-cream.

I bumped into a friend working at the ice-cream place and we talked about tattoos and how I wanted her to design one for me. Irish girl suddenly got upset and told me that tattooing is her dream job. It was unsaid but her face told me that she was jealous because I asked my friend (a.k.a. the other chick) to poke needles on my skin but not her. That's the end of the road.

After her, nothing much happened for a while. Then, there was this American chick that stayed in the hostel totally swept me away. She was so hot I melted everytime I saw her and my nose almost bled, if not for the cold London weather. We talked, we hung out a few times and went to London Pride together but it was just me having a huge crush on her.

Then, it was another Canadian Vietnamese Chinese chick. Not so big but still a crush.

My Religion

was beer. I wasn't an alcoholic but I love beer. I didn't drink to drown my misery or even to get drunk. I drank almost everyday as there will be people drinking everyday. People tend to wonder how I can fit so much beer into my pint-size frame. I used to get teased by strangers asking if I needed to share the pint I just bought. Maybe they didn't know that I can pee.

Irish Piper was one of my drinking and rollie-smoking buddies and one of my closest friends in London. We talked about everything, we burped and we farted.

Due to my strict rules about drinking to maintain its meaning and fun, one fine evening, I made it my religion. To point is not to turn alcoholic.

Life in London

was pulling me into bipolar direction but I had to keep myself together. On one end, I was broke, depressed and lost. On the other, "I'm in London!". My days are usually filled with socialising, job hunting and cultural education at the hostel or out with some people, followed by drinking and sometimes clubbing at night. I made some other friends while out clubbing and they became my club buddies. I hung out a lot in Soho as it's very gay and very accessible. I can still find my way back no matter how smashed I was. Having worried about money and going out clubbing isn't the easiest imbalance to handle.

But heck, that could be the last time I live in London, so why not have fun as well?

Under the social, happy and "I love beer" face is an insecure, jobless and "I don't know where I'm heading" soul. Only I knew.

Hostel Life

Despite the crappy living condition, hostel life was very interesting and stimulating. I met people from everywhere and even places I never thought existed. Mostly very nice people, occasional weirdos and I made many good friends there. Drinking was a daily thing. It was a level playing ground as everyone was poor in London. It was totally non-pretentious, with exception to a rare few (i.e. Gucci bag carriers expecting 5 star hotel service in a hostel), I learned a lot about different cultures, ate and drank a lot of different stuff.

We cooked, we ate, we drank, we went out and complained how expensive London was together. There wasn't any division - nationality, age, occupation or even language barrier. We were all the same. French, Germans, Americans, Dutch, Spanish, Italians, Irish, Canadians, Swedish, you name it. We shared the same food, drank the same beer and shared our experiences and feelings.

People come and go but my hostel culture maintained.

Job Hunt Continues

I actively applied for jobs and signed up every online job database I can find and called some agencies.

To fast forward this whole experience, I got some calls but turned down the interview invitations. I still had the same job hunt mentality as at home - I choose what I want to do and I usually gets it. The interview involves working in the copier industry, which I didn't want to be in at that time. I couldn't have made a bigger mistake.

Two months later, nothing else came up. I was broke, depressed and lost. I wanted to go home. I spoke to one of the fellow traveller and hostel staff and he suggested that I should apply for the soon to be available weekend cleaner vacancy in the hostel. Work only two days a week and rent is free.

When I applied, the manager was away and my friend was in charge ;)

Life in London is looking more possible now.

Job Hunt

The night before I checked into the hostel, I saw a sign "Receptionist Wanted" at the counter. I asked but the girl behind counter told me it has been taken. The next day when I checked in, another girl told me it's still available. I was puzzled but the morning girl told me she was the manager so she should know.

I applied but was turned down a few days later as I was overqualified. I thought they must be insane.