We were an odd couple. He is half Japanese and half Brazilian. He is very dark skinned though, he doesn't look Japanese at all. He was born and raised in Japan. I was born in Seoul, South Korea but raised in America. I am again 4'10, and he is about 6'5 or 6'6. He had baggy jeans sagged because of his biker chain, which went from his back wallet to his front loop for his belt. He had a red and white plaid long sleeve shirt, his sleeves rolled high up with a black leather jacket, he looked good. He shaved his head almost except for the wide strip that went front to back which he spiked up to form a mohawk. I had on black pants with a very low cut shirt so when I zipped up my jacket it looked like I was naked from waist up.

There was always something I loved about him. Like before crossing a busy street he would extend his long arm across my body and look down at me and smile a tired smile. He was gentle and he was protective over me, I liked that. He's the strong silent type. He used to teach gymnastics last time we dated as well as in training. He was always in training. Before when we first met he owned and taught at his do-jo.

Through out the years he had odd jobs as a DJ or a club p.r. person. He also is a UFC fighter and a cage fighter, he fought in Japan and still does. Once in the car I looked up at him with what I can imagine my big brown eyes and asked why he fought so much. Again looking down at me he placed his hands on my face and quietly replied, "It's peaceful, it's quiet, it feels good." Well that right there should have sent me running, but instead I liked it.

Another day we went out to get some food. I picked our favorite Vietnamese restaurant. It's the type that only Asian people really go to. It's the place where all the Chinese and Vietnamese people who cook for American Asian restaurants go to have lunch or Sunday dinners with their families to have home cooked food. The menu isn't in English so I point at the number nine. He knows almost every Asian language there is so he orders for both of us in what sounds like Chinese. 20 minutes pass and we get out food for take out. We hold hands and talk amongst our selves. I hear a man next to me say something, it seemed for a minute he was talking to me, but I'm pretty sure he is talking to the guy next to him.

We get into my car and start to drive off. Somethings off about him he is fuming. I ask him what his problem is, and then he snaps at me, "Didn't you hear what he said about you?! About us?! Are you deaf?!"

I told him that's funny because I did hear him but I don't speak VIETNAMESE, SORRY!

His eyes and body language softens. I tell him to tell me what the man said about us. He rattles of in anger, "I can't believe your with him. You should be ashamed of yourself, your parents are probably ashamed of you too. You should be with your own race!"

Uh, wow. Noooo woooonder I got a weird look from him when I left, because he WAS talking to me. Except he should know better, I don't look Vietnamese and there is a huge difference, I mean you can tell from my eyes and the shape of my face that I am not Vietnamese. (And yes, I know, your probably wondering how the hell do they tell the difference? Trust me there's differences!)

I asked him why he didn't say something to him. He told me he just wanted kick his ass, so he just had to get out of there.
Oh.

Me and him were the "throw away" kids of society. Him hailing from a mafioso family who wanted nothing than to get away from that, so he had no family. Me the kid from a broken home and both of us with mile long history of abuse and mental problems. Drugs and the night life called him, beckoned him. He was to far in it, yet he tried to balance a somewhat "normal" life at the same time. In which he came to realize he could not have both and would have to choose between them.

I remember pleading with him, in a very high loft that looked over Detroit. We looked out the window together staring at Motorcity Casino, watching the colors change on the building. While his other five other roommates were passed out or still rolling on drugs, I was there with him. I asked him to stop this, I asked him to look at what his addiction was doing to his life. I told him he didn't want to be like those kids in the room. One was shipping out to the army because he had no where else to go or be. So he was on a personal mission to leave the planet for a little while, popping every pill he found, sniffing anything that was white, drinking everything that was dark and burned. Another was a homeless kid who was spaced out on drugs sitting in front of a blank t.v. screen laughing. They were all homeless, yet they had this amazing expensive loft, haha with a t.v. and a bunk bed that was it. He just shook his head, he told me no, these were his friends, his family, his home. So, I left.

I remember when I had long, black hair, when he kissed me he would wrap his hand in it and pull hard.

He loved me no matter what. Well, until I told him I didn't want to marry him.
He told me he wanted a family with me. He would do anything for me. He would support me, we could get an apartment together, you won't have to live with your family anymore. I'll be here for you, I'll love you. I'll take care of you. We can escape together, move to California. I'll get three jobs and you can still go to school. I can take you away. You'll belong to someone, someone will belong to you. Don't you want me? Don't you want to love me? Don't you want me to be with you?

I almost fell for it, until he started talking about how he wanted little him's and little me's running around.

I was 19 years old.




I told him I just started college only a year ago and I'm not ready for a family.
Before me he had proposed to a girl during the gap where we didn't see each other he was engaged. Poor boy falls hard doesn't he?

I remember I text him telling him I had no hair and he responded, "Ok so?" I later told him that, that was a good answer.

He's rambling man. His hat is his home. Every now and then when we went through the long gap with out seeing each other I would drop a line hoping he was doing ok. He would always respond that he was well just party, party, party, more party, because he always wanted to escape his mind. We were always falling free into nothing.

And here we are. Together again after such a history such a harsh past. We visited our favorite places, the bars, clubs, underground clubs, we drank two beers and left. I think we visited those places to find something, to see if something would spark again. He was different this time though. He no longer out strectched his hand before traffic. He no longer waited for me or held the door open. He no longer paid attention to the little things. I just wanted us to be like when we were younger. Then he drops the bomb of how his girlfriend dumped him yesterday.

Again. Oh. I see.

"I just wanted to get out you know, have a beer."

"Oh"

My feelings were hurt, what the hell are we or shall I say what the hell am I doing? Why do I like you so much all of a sudden? I tell him I feel awkward, he then put his hand on my leg and we drove in silence.

I dropped him off at his house. His smoothly put his hand on my waist slipping it in between my jacket and shirt. He kissed my forehead and whispered "Thank you." He slides out of the car, but before he's fully out he reaches in again and kisses my cheek.
I should have kissed him back. But I didn't.

The 20 minute drive home felt short. My mind was rewinding everything that had happened that night. Over and over again and over reading every little thing he did. Every gesture he did or didn't do.

Everything was a new version of it's old self. I didn't know what to think. He's different now, he no longer associates with the mob, he no longer slings drugs to get by, he works as an apprentice at a tattoo parlor. He's no longer into drugs, or so he says. He told me his last girlfriend got him out of all that.

Ouch.

I'm sick of his abuse and I think he's sick of mine.

It's best to leave him alone.