The night played out like it always did – Drinking… Dancing… Beer Garden… Drinking… Dancing… Drag Show… Dancing… and as the clock struck 3am, standing with my back to the speaker, I knew I had had several too many drinks when I was happy to dance alone to Christina Aguilera… Two of my mates had disappeared for the morning, and my third mate Aaron was standing at the bar gazing drunkenly through the crowd… Pushing through the badly dancing crowd, I joined him.
“Who’s that guy…?” Aaron slurred into his beer…
“…Who?”
“That guy there…” he slurred again, gesturing across the floor towards the stairs to the beer garden. I followed his gaze and saw a taller guy standing alone; Dark features, black hair swept back off his face, dressed in a suit. He was texting someone… or pretending to, anyway. “I’ve never seen him before…”
Aaron was right. “Neither have I…” I replied. “Looks new in town…”
“He looks Mexican…” Aaron stated.
I raised an eyebrow “You can’t call him Mexican…!” I laughed.
“Why not, he looks hot. He looks Mexican”
“He looks Asian…” I corrected.
“What you can call him Asian and I can’t call him Mexican?” Aaron started up.
He swigged his beer and tried in vain to hold his eyes on mine. He was wavering.
Too much beer for Aaron…
“I think you mean he looks Hispanic…” I continued. “Unless you know he’s from Mexico, you can’t say he’s Mexican”
“He looks Mexican… Mex-i-Can”
“Asian…”
“…Mexican”
“Dude…” I laughed again. “You can’t….”
I glanced across at the Mexicasian and caught him staring at me already – Meeting my gaze, he looked away coyly. Either he’d realised we were openly talking about him (which was near impossible with the music being so loud) or he was checking me out and I had caught him mid-perve.
Aaron drank from his beer again, but his bottle was empty “Mexxxxican!”
I shrugged - Only one way of finding out…
I grabbed my drink and moved over to the stranger, leaving my very drunk friend swaying at the corner of the bar. I was still relatively sober, as was often the case when I spent the night dancing and sweating alcohol out of my system as fast as I could consume it. I smiled as I approached, the Mexicasian saw me coming and returned the smile. I pulled up next to him and leant against the wall.
“Hey!...”
“…Hey!”
Good start.
I shot a look back at Aaron, who was watching with a smile. I shook my head and returned my attention to the new guy. “Good night?”
“Yeah…” he replied. “Seems a bit dead around here…”
Dead? Mars was pumping… For this guy to think it was dead meant he was definitely not from Adelaide.
“Not from around here?” I asked, already knowing the answer, but figuring it kept the conversation going long enough for me to determine his origin.
“No, Im from Melbourne!”
“Ahhh…” I sighed.
Now was the time to go in for the kill. “My mate thought you were from overseas…”
“Yeah, I saw you guys looking…” he laughed “Your mate has been staring a while, but I was watching you on the dancefloor before you joined him at the bar…”
Imaginary Josh raised his hand to get my attention – He’d been watching me dance? Interesting…
I tried a different tact - “Your accent doesn’t sound like Melbourne”
“No… Im Malaysian”
Booyeah.
Asian.
“Oh, I lived in Malaysia for a while…” I replied with a smile. “Cool…”
We continued talking for a few minutes before I decided to wind things up and return to Aaron.
“Im Josh!...” I sung, moving back to the bar where Aaron had practically fallen asleep.
“Fuck!” the Mexicasian shouted back
“…What?” I started, shocked.
“Fuck!”
“…Fuck?”
“No, Phuac!... Phu-ac!”
“Oh…” I smiled. I Shrugged. I didn't really care. “Fuck! Cool!”
I danced my way back to the bar.
“His name is Fuck!...” I shouted over the music “…and Fuck is Asian!”
Next round was on Aaron.
- - -
Dragging my tired ass to bed, I rolled over to switch my bedside lamp off when my phone beeped – It was nearly 5am in the morning, who was texting me at this time of the night?
Hi Josh, it’s Phuac – Your mate gave me your number – Nice to meet you tonight, would be nice to see you again – Im not in Adelaide for long”
Fucking Aaron!
I ignored the sms, rolled over and crashed into a deep sleep only 5 hours of dancing can induce.
- - -
By the time I had woken up the next day, I had completely forgotten about my experience with the Fuck the Mexicasian – The sun was shining, the birds were singing and it was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The clock struck three when my phone beeped again:
Hi Josh, it’s Phuac again – Is this your number? Im going to Mars again tonight, will I see you there?”
I sure as hell hoped not! Phuac was fast becoming a stalker, texting me twice already after what was probably only a 5 minute conversation over Britney Spears blasting over the speakers, and even then we only talked about the living standards in Malaysia and how they were vastly different to Singapore… I ignored the message again and instead messaged Aaron:
Rise and shine, Princess! Thanks for giving my number to The Mexicasian – Fuck has messaged me twice already…
My phone beeped in reply, and I flipped it open to discover that it wasn’t Aaron, it was Phuac again.
Would you like to go out for coffee today?
I was dumbfounded and semi-annoyed that he was seemingly taking such a head-strong approach with me – Seeing as though I technically hadn’t responded to any of his text messages, I was surprised that he had no written to me a third time. I decided to respond:
Hi, sorry I have stuff planned all day today. Won’t be able to!
Short. Sharp. Shiny.
My phone beeped immediately in response:
What about tonight?
I hit reply again:
Sorry, I have a birthday party tonight.
Lie. Send.
Again, his response came through immediately:
Where’s the party, perhaps I can meet you there instead?
Imaginary Josh started dialing the police in my minds eye – What the fuck?! Phuac sounded fucking crazy… I took slight comfort in the fact that I knew he was only here for a couple of days – Putting my phone on silent, I decided it was probably best not to respond anymore. I’d told him I was busy… Surely I’d conveyed a sense of “not interested” ?
My day continued as any other lazy Sunday would – Cleaning, chilling out and getting ready for the following week of work. Within hours I had forgotten about the crazy Mexicasian and was happily getting on with my evening when I decided to grab my phone to call Aaron.
I flicked open my phone.
7 New Messages
1 Missed Call
And all of them from the number I had identified as Phuac.
A chill ran down my spine – What the fucking fuck?! Are you seeeerious?! I had a sudden vision of the Mexicasian sitting in his darkened hotel room, the light of his phone illuminating his manic, strained face as he stared at the screen waiting for me to respond.
I opened my inbox:
---
Are you doing anything after the birthday party?
---
Why aren’t you responding?
---
Sorry, I understand if you’re busy - Perhaps we could meet tomorrow night instead? Are you busy tomorrow night?
---
Are you ignoring me?
---
Is this Josh the guy I met last night?
---
Why are you being so fucking rude?
--
I paused and re-read the last message again… Excuse me? Rude? As far as Phuac knew I hadn’t received ANY of these messages, but now my apparent lack of further response made me “fucking rude” – I shook my head in disbelief as a wave of slight nausea washed over me.
The missed call was from Phuac… and the last message was a voicemail.
He’d left a voicemail?!
I almost didn’t want to listen to it… Especially if his last sms was anything to go by.
I dialed into my voicemail and listened:
Silence
Silence
"Hi Josh, it’s Phuac we hung out last night…
Silence
Silence
Silence
…Can you give me a call please?
Silence
Silence
Silence
Silence
...Bye."
He sounded strangely calm.
Like Patrick Bateman calm…
Imaginary Josh flew off the handle – Hung out? Hung the fuck out? We didn’t hang out, Phuac or whatever the fuck your name was, we talked for roughly 5 minutes in a nightclub and even then the conversation wasn’t that good – Now you’ve left me 100 fuckn messages, and you’re behaving like an obsessed stalker.
While I stood there in my lounge room trying to figure out what, my phone suddenly let out a shrill ring – My feeling of nausea suddenly increased, and I suddenly felt like I was in one of those movies where the hero has to beat all odds in surviving the attack of a crazed psychopath…
I relaxed a small amount when I realized it was Aaron:
“Dude, what the fuck?” I spat into the phone.
“Hello to you, too…” Aaron replied “What’s up?”
“The Mexicasian is fucking psycho killer, that’s what’s up…”
Aaron laughed. “Him? He seemed nice…”
I sat on my couch “No, he did not seem nice, why did you give him my number?”
“He was interested, he asked while you were taking a piss…”
“Dude he’s called me like 800 times and left a series of increasingly crazy messages”
Aaron laughed again “Serious? He sounds keen… Have you called him back?”
“NO I HAVE NOT CALLED HIM BACK!”
Cleary Aaron didn’t understand the magnitude of this situation.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Um, because I don’t want to wind up dead…”
Beep beep
I moaned. “He’s calling again now…”
“What?”
Beep beep
“I have call waiting, he’s calling again now…” I continued. “Dude… this is fucked”
“Talk to him…” Aaron suggested. “Just be honest and talk to him.”
“No!”
“Im hanging up…” my stupid friend chuckled. “Talk to him”
Aaron disconnected his call.
Gritting my teeth, I answered the incoming call from Phuac the Mexicasian.
I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible; “Hello…?”
“Hi… is this Josh?”
I paused. I couldn’t even lie – He knew it was me because I’d already responded to a couple of his messages. I silently kicked myself while Imaginary Josh shook his head as if to say Im all out of ideas… you’re on your own!
“Yes, this is Josh.”
“It’s Phuac! Phuac! We met last night” – He suddenly sounded a whole lot brighter.
“Yes. Hi Phuac”
Silence
Silence
Silence. I rolled my eyes.
“So you’re busy tonight, huh?” he continued.
“Yeah, sorry…” I replied, trying to sound as ‘sorry’ as I could.
“Tomorrow night?”
“Rehearsal…”
Rehearsal was always an excellent ‘out’ – Rehearsals could be any night… any time… and you were always too tired after them to ever do something afterwards
“Tuesday night?”
Fucking hell.
“….Rehearsal… Again”
“Oh…” Phuac sighed. He sounded positively heartbroken. “Im flying back on Wednesday morning”
“Oh, that’s such a shame!” I lied again. Imaginary Josh, meanwhile turned cartwheels of relief in my minds eye “Sorry!”
Silence
Silence
Silence
“If you’re ever in Melbourne, you’ll have to look me up!”
“…Yeeeeeah.” I replied, sounding terribly awkward – Look him up? I’d rather cut my legs in a warm bath and bleed out. I tried to wind up the phone call.
“Have a good flight” I sang.
“Yeah, you too…”
I paused again. Me too? I wasn’t flying anywhere…
Silence
Silence
Silence
“I think you mean he looks Hispanic…” I continued. “Unless you know he’s from Mexico, you can’t say he’s Mexican”
“He looks Mexican… Mex-i-Can”
“Asian…”
“…Mexican”
“Dude…” I laughed again. “You can’t….”
I glanced across at the Mexicasian and caught him staring at me already – Meeting my gaze, he looked away coyly. Either he’d realised we were openly talking about him (which was near impossible with the music being so loud) or he was checking me out and I had caught him mid-perve.
Aaron drank from his beer again, but his bottle was empty “Mexxxxican!”
I shrugged - Only one way of finding out…
I grabbed my drink and moved over to the stranger, leaving my very drunk friend swaying at the corner of the bar. I was still relatively sober, as was often the case when I spent the night dancing and sweating alcohol out of my system as fast as I could consume it. I smiled as I approached, the Mexicasian saw me coming and returned the smile. I pulled up next to him and leant against the wall.
“Hey!...”
“…Hey!”
Good start.
I shot a look back at Aaron, who was watching with a smile. I shook my head and returned my attention to the new guy. “Good night?”
“Yeah…” he replied. “Seems a bit dead around here…”
Dead? Mars was pumping… For this guy to think it was dead meant he was definitely not from Adelaide.
“Not from around here?” I asked, already knowing the answer, but figuring it kept the conversation going long enough for me to determine his origin.
“No, Im from Melbourne!”
“Ahhh…” I sighed.
Now was the time to go in for the kill. “My mate thought you were from overseas…”
“Yeah, I saw you guys looking…” he laughed “Your mate has been staring a while, but I was watching you on the dancefloor before you joined him at the bar…”
Imaginary Josh raised his hand to get my attention – He’d been watching me dance? Interesting…
I tried a different tact - “Your accent doesn’t sound like Melbourne”
“No… Im Malaysian”
Booyeah.
Asian.
“Oh, I lived in Malaysia for a while…” I replied with a smile. “Cool…”
We continued talking for a few minutes before I decided to wind things up and return to Aaron.
“Im Josh!...” I sung, moving back to the bar where Aaron had practically fallen asleep.
“Fuck!” the Mexicasian shouted back
“…What?” I started, shocked.
“Fuck!”
“…Fuck?”
“No, Phuac!... Phu-ac!”
“Oh…” I smiled. I Shrugged. I didn't really care. “Fuck! Cool!”
I danced my way back to the bar.
“His name is Fuck!...” I shouted over the music “…and Fuck is Asian!”
Next round was on Aaron.
- - -
Dragging my tired ass to bed, I rolled over to switch my bedside lamp off when my phone beeped – It was nearly 5am in the morning, who was texting me at this time of the night?
Hi Josh, it’s Phuac – Your mate gave me your number – Nice to meet you tonight, would be nice to see you again – Im not in Adelaide for long”
Fucking Aaron!
I ignored the sms, rolled over and crashed into a deep sleep only 5 hours of dancing can induce.
- - -
By the time I had woken up the next day, I had completely forgotten about my experience with the Fuck the Mexicasian – The sun was shining, the birds were singing and it was a beautiful Saturday afternoon. The clock struck three when my phone beeped again:
I sure as hell hoped not! Phuac was fast becoming a stalker, texting me twice already after what was probably only a 5 minute conversation over Britney Spears blasting over the speakers, and even then we only talked about the living standards in Malaysia and how they were vastly different to Singapore… I ignored the message again and instead messaged Aaron:
Rise and shine, Princess! Thanks for giving my number to The Mexicasian – Fuck has messaged me twice already…
My phone beeped in reply, and I flipped it open to discover that it wasn’t Aaron, it was Phuac again.
Would you like to go out for coffee today?
I was dumbfounded and semi-annoyed that he was seemingly taking such a head-strong approach with me – Seeing as though I technically hadn’t responded to any of his text messages, I was surprised that he had no written to me a third time. I decided to respond:
Hi, sorry I have stuff planned all day today. Won’t be able to!
Short. Sharp. Shiny.
My phone beeped immediately in response:
What about tonight?
I hit reply again:
Sorry, I have a birthday party tonight.
Lie. Send.
Again, his response came through immediately:
Where’s the party, perhaps I can meet you there instead?
Imaginary Josh started dialing the police in my minds eye – What the fuck?! Phuac sounded fucking crazy… I took slight comfort in the fact that I knew he was only here for a couple of days – Putting my phone on silent, I decided it was probably best not to respond anymore. I’d told him I was busy… Surely I’d conveyed a sense of “not interested” ?
My day continued as any other lazy Sunday would – Cleaning, chilling out and getting ready for the following week of work. Within hours I had forgotten about the crazy Mexicasian and was happily getting on with my evening when I decided to grab my phone to call Aaron.
I flicked open my phone.
7 New Messages
1 Missed Call
And all of them from the number I had identified as Phuac.
A chill ran down my spine – What the fucking fuck?! Are you seeeerious?! I had a sudden vision of the Mexicasian sitting in his darkened hotel room, the light of his phone illuminating his manic, strained face as he stared at the screen waiting for me to respond.
I opened my inbox:
---
Are you doing anything after the birthday party?
---
Why aren’t you responding?
---
Sorry, I understand if you’re busy - Perhaps we could meet tomorrow night instead? Are you busy tomorrow night?
---
Are you ignoring me?
---
Is this Josh the guy I met last night?
---
Why are you being so fucking rude?
--
I paused and re-read the last message again… Excuse me? Rude? As far as Phuac knew I hadn’t received ANY of these messages, but now my apparent lack of further response made me “fucking rude” – I shook my head in disbelief as a wave of slight nausea washed over me.
The missed call was from Phuac… and the last message was a voicemail.
He’d left a voicemail?!
I almost didn’t want to listen to it… Especially if his last sms was anything to go by.
I dialed into my voicemail and listened:
Silence
Silence
"Hi Josh, it’s Phuac we hung out last night…
Silence
Silence
Silence
…Can you give me a call please?
Silence
Silence
Silence
Silence
...Bye."
He sounded strangely calm.
Like Patrick Bateman calm…
Imaginary Josh flew off the handle – Hung out? Hung the fuck out? We didn’t hang out, Phuac or whatever the fuck your name was, we talked for roughly 5 minutes in a nightclub and even then the conversation wasn’t that good – Now you’ve left me 100 fuckn messages, and you’re behaving like an obsessed stalker.
While I stood there in my lounge room trying to figure out what, my phone suddenly let out a shrill ring – My feeling of nausea suddenly increased, and I suddenly felt like I was in one of those movies where the hero has to beat all odds in surviving the attack of a crazed psychopath…
I relaxed a small amount when I realized it was Aaron:
“Dude, what the fuck?” I spat into the phone.
“Hello to you, too…” Aaron replied “What’s up?”
“The Mexicasian is fucking psycho killer, that’s what’s up…”
Aaron laughed. “Him? He seemed nice…”
I sat on my couch “No, he did not seem nice, why did you give him my number?”
“He was interested, he asked while you were taking a piss…”
“Dude he’s called me like 800 times and left a series of increasingly crazy messages”
Aaron laughed again “Serious? He sounds keen… Have you called him back?”
“NO I HAVE NOT CALLED HIM BACK!”
Cleary Aaron didn’t understand the magnitude of this situation.
“Why not?” he asked.
“Um, because I don’t want to wind up dead…”
Beep beep
I moaned. “He’s calling again now…”
“What?”
Beep beep
“I have call waiting, he’s calling again now…” I continued. “Dude… this is fucked”
“Talk to him…” Aaron suggested. “Just be honest and talk to him.”
“No!”
“Im hanging up…” my stupid friend chuckled. “Talk to him”
Aaron disconnected his call.
Gritting my teeth, I answered the incoming call from Phuac the Mexicasian.
I tried to sound as nonchalant as possible; “Hello…?”
“Hi… is this Josh?”
I paused. I couldn’t even lie – He knew it was me because I’d already responded to a couple of his messages. I silently kicked myself while Imaginary Josh shook his head as if to say Im all out of ideas… you’re on your own!
“Yes, this is Josh.”
“It’s Phuac! Phuac! We met last night” – He suddenly sounded a whole lot brighter.
“Yes. Hi Phuac”
Silence
Silence
Silence. I rolled my eyes.
“So you’re busy tonight, huh?” he continued.
“Yeah, sorry…” I replied, trying to sound as ‘sorry’ as I could.
“Tomorrow night?”
“Rehearsal…”
Rehearsal was always an excellent ‘out’ – Rehearsals could be any night… any time… and you were always too tired after them to ever do something afterwards
“Tuesday night?”
Fucking hell.
“….Rehearsal… Again”
“Oh…” Phuac sighed. He sounded positively heartbroken. “Im flying back on Wednesday morning”
“Oh, that’s such a shame!” I lied again. Imaginary Josh, meanwhile turned cartwheels of relief in my minds eye “Sorry!”
Silence
Silence
Silence
“If you’re ever in Melbourne, you’ll have to look me up!”
“…Yeeeeeah.” I replied, sounding terribly awkward – Look him up? I’d rather cut my legs in a warm bath and bleed out. I tried to wind up the phone call.
“Have a good flight” I sang.
“Yeah, you too…”
I paused again. Me too? I wasn’t flying anywhere…
Silence
Silence
Silence
"That's really fucked..." Phuac suddenly continued. Clearly he wasn't letting the conversation go."This always fucking happens to me, guys dont want to meet me!"
"Im sorry Im busy..." I consoled "I didn't know Aaron gave you my number"
"Yeah well he did! And perhaps he shouldnt have!" Phuac raised his voice.
"Excuse me?"
"Perhaps if you didn't want to fucking talk to me, he shouldn't have!" Phuac spat again.
I was completely lost for words. "Im sorry, Im busy" I repeated.
"Yeah, fucking busy. Always fucking busy" the crazy Mexicasian ranted
Always. Fucking. Busy?! This guy was clearly insane.
Okay.
Enough was enough.
"Hey, calm the fuck down I don't even know you..." I stated. Clearly and slowly. "So lets leave it at that - Perhaps don't call me again"
Silence
Silence
“So Im going to go now..." I wrapped up.
“So Im going to go now..." I wrapped up.
Silence
Silence
Silence
“Whatever..." Phuac sighed. "...I didn't even fucking like you anyway!"
“Whatever..." Phuac sighed. "...I didn't even fucking like you anyway!"
Well Christ, that was a relief!
Silence
Phuac sighed again. He sounded like a keening 14yo girl. "Okay, thanksbye”
“By…” – The phone disconnected before I could even respond in full. The Mexicasian had hung up on me…
I went through a series of emotions – Angry, annoyed, confused, shocked... Not to mention fear. I even felt a little disappointed and ashamed that I had seemingly broken this guys heart – A guy who, in reality, I had only spoken to for 5 minutes over ½ a beer and a Britney Spears remix. The entire situation was so alarmingly strange that I almost thought it was a set up.
“By…” – The phone disconnected before I could even respond in full. The Mexicasian had hung up on me…
I went through a series of emotions – Angry, annoyed, confused, shocked... Not to mention fear. I even felt a little disappointed and ashamed that I had seemingly broken this guys heart – A guy who, in reality, I had only spoken to for 5 minutes over ½ a beer and a Britney Spears remix. The entire situation was so alarmingly strange that I almost thought it was a set up.
I was just thankful he didn't know my address!
I never heard from Fuck the Mexicasian again – But every visit to The Mars Bar always has me on high alert, not to mention my last trip to Melbourne, which had me scanning pubs and department scores in fear of bumping into the crazy guy again. I never heard from Phuac after that, thankfully – Though I thank myself lucky for successfully dodging the bullet…
And life in Adelaide continued.
And things were about to get a whoooole lot more interesting.
I never heard from Fuck the Mexicasian again – But every visit to The Mars Bar always has me on high alert, not to mention my last trip to Melbourne, which had me scanning pubs and department scores in fear of bumping into the crazy guy again. I never heard from Phuac after that, thankfully – Though I thank myself lucky for successfully dodging the bullet…
And life in Adelaide continued.
And things were about to get a whoooole lot more interesting.
No comments:
Post a Comment