a good day

My manager encouraged me to attend the work holiday party on Thursday, even though I just started this week, as a good opportunity to meet people. I was of two minds -- Do I have to get a gift to bring to the White Elephant party? And, yeah, I thought it would be a good experiment on myself to challenge my social anxieties.

Since October, when my mom came back from Korea in October to live with me in the apartment, I've seen a weariness in her both physically and mentally. While she still nags me (sit up straight to avoid developing a "turtle neck," or fixing my posture to avoid getting wrinkles in my neck), she's now more often just giving a big sigh and going back to bed. Lately she's been complaining of a pain in her lower stomach where she's had the hysterectomy, and the other day, she's started vocalizing how she's worried the cancer might be back.

I arrived over five minutes late, following M, the older Chinese guy into the restaurant (the casual American breakfast chain in the Bay Area), and waved at A, J, and B who were already seated, before I had to run back to my car to get my phone. Later, AN, D, and V came in afterwards to make us a group of eight taking up the table in the back of the restaurant.

This was the Zoom-based Leetcode coding group that I've been attending Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Fridays for the past three months at 10 AM, while I was unemployed.

Trigger warning: death, unaliving

He picked me up outside my apartment on Tuesday evening around 8 pm. I missed you even though it's been two days, he said as he gave me a kiss.

Listen, I have a lot of things to ask you, I told him in mock seriousness. Sure, get to it, he said.

First, did your friend approve of my gift to you? He laughed, yes, he thought it was well-made and was impressed. Good, I said, I was worried about his opinion, given that he's so artistic.

Second, did you get enough sleep on Sunday, after I woke you up at 2 AM? He said, it was fine, he woke up early for Monday anyway.

Third, don't be alarmed, but my mom said she wants to invite you to dinner, and started asking me about your birth time. What? She's onto us, he laughed. There's no hiding a relationship from your mom. Don't worry about it, I said, I'm still figuring out how serious she is about all this. She knows I'm dating, but I have no idea how much she's deluding herself that it's with a girl, given that I already came out to her years ago and she might have conveniently forgotten again.

We drove to Sugar Mama in Milpitas, which was new to him, but familiar to me, after I recognized the storefront as we parked. We sampled some flavors, before settling on two ice cream flavors Hawaiian Road (fudge, chocolate syrup - his choice) and Ube (mine), and I teased him (rather bluntly) that I thought his choice was too sweet and mine was better. They put real pieces of ube in the ice cream, which I love.

At the ice cream place, I was telling him again that I was sorry for waking him up in the middle of Sunday night at his place (2 AM Monday) to go home to my mom, but he said that didn't bother him as much as me lying to my mom. This was where our conversation got a little sour.

What had happened was I was already falling asleep on his bed at his place after our Sunday Monterrey trip (fun aquarium, beautiful weather, cute couple pictures along the ocean), when my mom had texted me, and I called her immediately, telling her I was going to leave soon for home(all in Korean). I hurriedly told him this in English, but instead of leaving, I drowsily leaned over him in bed, until I eventually climbed into bed and fell asleep for another two hours until 2 AM.

He had told me then that I should get going home to my mom, but I wasn't listening. What if your mom thinks that I was the one who kept you so late, he asked. I don't want her to dislike me, even before I have a chance to meet her, he protested.

I listened to this, trying not to interrupt too much, until I said in my defense, that I was too exhausted to really get ready to drive home (he agreed that we did have a long day, and I must have been tired from all the driving). You could have just slept over and told her that, he said.

I shook my head, and said when I talked with my mom, I panicked and blurted out what I thought she wanted to hear, that I should go home right away. She would have been scandalized to know that I'd been sleeping overnight with "my friend" and I wasn't yet ready to tell her the truth about my boyfriend.

I'm sorry you had to deal with my problem like that, I said. Afterwards, I talked with my mom, and she wasn't happy I didn't let her know I'd be gone all day ("I was waiting for you around dinner, and you still didn't come after midnight. I was wondering if you were ok, with all the rain.").

I let her know I'll communicate her my plans better, and that should help, I told him.

This entire conversation made me feel embarrassed (I'm 32 years old, living with my mom) and I felt that fear that I was going to irreparably damage this relationship. How much patience can he have, before he gets fed up with me?

I got him a guava cake, which he had eyeing in the display glass, and we walked around 99 Ranch for hypothetical gifts to bring for his friend's Saturday birthday party, before he drove me back by 10.

In the car, as we were discussing an Instagram post he found (a boba place was hosting a Kpop giveaway event), he mentioned that it's been one month since we first, much to my surprise.

He said he didn't want to bring it up in the beginning, but was amused I didn't remember, given that I was the one who mentioned this milestone on our Monterrey day trip . Happy One Month, I said, while we held hands in the car.

I fully recovered from my cold by today, yet I still stayed inside my apartment, just wandering from bed to kitchen to bathroom, not really caring about anything much and letting the time go by. Incidentally, I think I got sick from my friend with benefit last weekend (yeah, I'm sexually active again after a long drought), who I noticed occassionally sniffed as if he had a stuffy nose. I'm not religious, but I do believe in a kind of karma. I wondered if I was being cosmically punished with getting sick, because I was taking advantage of my mom not living with me now. I've slept with this guy, slept with another friend, and made out with one guy on a second date, and another guy at the club. I should get tested for any STDs/STIs soon.

Anyway, I was lying in bed, when my mom called me today. I knew she was feeling dejected, given her phone call yesterday (she lost her appeal for her divorce case). After asking how I was feeling and remarking that my voice sounded better, but still congested, she repeated yesterday's talking points about how much she regretted applying for the appeal in the first place, how she should have listened to her misgivings, and how she should have fought harder for the date of separation, and how that 14K was just wasted. I knew she was not in the right mindset, and I should have consoled her, but as I felt my frustration with her grow, I started yelling at her to stop it. Changing the date of separation was not possible in the appeal (even the other lawyers we consulted told her it was difficult) and wouldn't have changed anything; yeah, her first lawyer screwed it all up (she interjected with a reminder there was a previous lawyer before him who was shit as well); but at the end of the day, she married a fraud who she only dated for 2 months and immediately left Korea to the States, and that this was all she was going to get out of a good-for-nothing piece of sociopathic trash.

I don't know why I have all this anger in me when I talk to my mom (probably a good topic to discuss with my therapist), but again I ended conversation with her badly, when she tried to pivot to asking that I watch less TV even if it's entertaining, and to start studying the GRE exam to finally get my graduate degree. I said ok, thank you. She reminded me to call my sister today, before I hung up on her.

Finally, as I was folding my laundry, I looked at my phone's clock.

6:00 pm exactly. I thought it was a sign, so I called my sister's number, wondering if she would pick up. My sister had sent a group chat last night, apologizing for not getting back to my text asking about Christmas plans, explaining that she was sick with the flu and wasn't feeling good the past week, and that she would like to talk the next day. I was planning to test if she would call me first, but figured if she didn't, I wouldn't mind.

To my surprise, and a little bit of dissatisfaction (I don't like talking on the phone), she picked up right away at the second ring.

"I sound really congested right now. Sorry."

I paused. "No, I can't tell. Merry Christmas. How are you?"

It was a short conversation. My sister said that she was sick for a while now, and it scared her how long it went, but that she's been getting better (Drink lots of fluids, I said). She was sorry we couldn't hang out together. She had my gifts for mom and me at her place, which she was planning to give to us in person, but she guessed she'll bring up when she visits us (I didn't get you anything though, I said). Her boyfriend sent her pho via Instacart, so she'll be good, but what am I having for dinner (I had gotten bread and frozen dumplings at Costco, I said, although that was a lie). I said I had a cold as well the past days, and she was surprised, and asked how I was. I blamed my coworkers for getting me sick.

My sister did something surprising. She said, this past year, she's been really busy with work, and didn't really pay attention to mom and me, and that this year, she'll make sure to call us more often. I was alarmed by her sentimentality, and immediately replied that I'll make sure to reach out to her more as well, when I should have done more on my end. I added that Mom's divorce case was ending soon (really, Mom said that only the Korean case ended, when she talked to me today, she said), and that it would be less stressful for Mom going forward.

"I love you." My sister said as a goodbye. This was the first time she said this directly to me, I realize.

"Ok bye."

I gained almost 15 pounds since last summer. I weigh 160 lbs when I weighed myself at the gym. I feel my jeans are too tight around my waist; embarrasingly, I find rolls of fat around my waistline. I wonder if I need to go up a size in my shirts.

I haven't felt very comfortable in my body. I worry whenever someone stands behind me. Are they observing what must be my bad posture or my neck fat or thick waist?

I should lose this extra weight, by resisting the urge to eat after 9 pm. Failed tonight, when I consumed a sweet granola cereal bar and two bags of chips.

I wonder if I'm distracting myself with all this eating. I'm needy. I downloaded the Hinge dating app again, after deleting my profile just a few weeks ago. Didn't I declare over the weekend to my gay Asian friends that I was done with dating? I have a short memory.

I haven't been writing; I didn't want to reflect. My thoughts lately have been a meandering mess. I constantly worry about things I should have done or should be doing instead, and feeling so much guilt and negativity, that I exhaust myself and waste hours on low-effort tasks like refreshing the news or downloading Pokemon Go again or watching porn.

I met with a new therapist on Friday, and while I gave a brief summary of why I wanted therapy (dismal work performance, feeling apathetic about life), instead of being nice and supportive, he was entirely mechanical, explaining that given my intake survey results, my "mildly depressive" score was not enough for him to recommend a treatment plan, and that he could refer me to a life-coaching instructor in my EAP network instead. A life coach on the EAP network would be a better approach with my wants of "wanting a career change" or "challenging myself" that I had expressed in feeling stagnant.

I got upset. In my logical head, I knew that what he was saying wasn't factually wrong, but I was smarting from what I took as another rejection: here's someone who thinks I'm not worth his time.

I blew up and just said whatever came to my mind. I said that this whole week I've been looking forward to meeting with him for some solution to "fix me", to tell me that I have a mental issue that can be solved by him, and that suddenly I'll be back to my normal, productive self.

Of course, this therapist loved this answer and launched into his favorite rhetorical speech.

"No, that's absolutely wrong. If you're going into therapy looking for someone to fix you, you're wasting both your time and mine. You need to identify concrete goals you want to work on, otherwise we'll just be spinning our wheels.

"No one else can fix you. You need to do that for yourself."

I pushed back, asking him to define what goals his other clients work on; he launched into a tirade about how people coming to him with undefined goals like "I need to find romance", and that he can only make treatment plans for people with diagnosed disorders like depression or eating disorders. I found him full of himself.

I ended the call, getting my petty revenge in rejecting his offer of finding a life coach recommendation on the EAP site ("What's the point of having you send me referrals to strangers you don't know?"), but I sat in that tiny conference room, feeling worn-out.

I really disliked this therapist, but I needed his blunt honesty. Yes, I'm looking for an easy way out; I don't have anyone else to blame for being like this. If I caused the issues, then it's my responsibility to clean up the mess.

I'm 32 years old, but I'm stuck with these juvenile emotions. Where's that confidence, maturity, or competency?

Today, I walked into my manager's one-on-one that was scheduled as a "support check-in". He scheduled this to deliver more detailed feedback on my failure to deliver on my work last quarter. I don't want to get into the details (really tired at the moment), but nothing he said was surprising or terribly insightful; I know what I did wrong, and it was an opportunity for me to provide more context on why I didn't do anything for two of the projects I was assigned.

I remember my previous therapist telling me that it might even be good for me to get fired, back when I video conferenced with him during the pandemic. This was a response to my relentless whining about how I didn't care about my job, I was half-assing work, and everyone knew it. His advice was meant to be an extreme application of CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) that my fears about being found out as an incompetent fraud wasn't the end of the world, and that logically, I would survive and move on if I lost my job. He encouraged me instead to flip my negative worries about being disliked around: what are things I can do for my co-workers that would make them happy and like me? How can I regain their trust?

I'm not sure if he was the best therapist for me, given that he also armchair-diagnosed me as a psychopath, because I wasn't loved enough as a child and I manipulate people and I view relationships as transactional. A few weeks later, I cut him off as my therapist over impersonal email like the psychopath he said I was.

My manager explained that this support check-in doesn't mean that my year-end performance will be automatically poor; that I still had a chance to turn it around, as long as I can deliver impact, and avoid the bottom of the quota (7%) that gets assigned the poor rating. While it's easy to wave it off as corporate BS, I still have it in my head that I could do good work with this quarter, as long as I stay diligent this time, maybe. Or I guess I have 6 months (pending another layoff, of which, I'm obviously gone) to find another job.

It's exhausting to be so utterly incompetent; I sat there in front of my manager, at times feeling so ashamed (what am I? 5 years old?) at being told I'm no good that I couldn't meet his eyes for some parts, and I actually felt my eyes tear up a bit (though thankfully nothing happened). I hope I came off as optimistic - I told him I was looking forward to delivering corporate impact in this quarter, and showing him my improvement and grinned. Smiling helped a little to relieve some pressure, and I did get some miniscule amount of tasks done. "I'm most encouraged when I can help out my team and they can rely on me," I had said to him, thinking back to my past therapist's words, "and yeah, while last quarter was disappointing, I want to regain you and the team's trust again."

Yeah, I better get my resume updated again.

I'm not one to add significance to dates, including birthdays, but this year I felt compelled to celebrate it a little.

During work this past week, when people were talking about their weekends, I mentioned how I celebrated my birthday in Oakland with some friends.

This was a lie; we were there celebrating my former coworker's birthday instead that was on earlier that week. I had brought a half-dozen cupcakes and a single pink candle (I didn't think a cake would last very well on the Bart), so that my coworker could blow it out while we sang happy birthday around them. My former coworker is such a thoughtful, low-key kind of individual, so it felt nice to do something special for them.

Instead, my celebration came on Wednesday, a day after my real birthday with the guy I'm dating. I picked him up at his place, and we drove to the Japanese-Italian fusion restaurant I had recommended. Since he's vegetarian, we ordered both a vegan pasta (no cheese!) and a mushroom medley pizza (that I liked, but he didn't as much), and we shared both plates. Disappointingly, there was no tiramisu cake for dessert, so we left quickly for desserts at the Hong Kong mango place in Cupertino.

He bemoaned that I had already been to all of his past restaurant recommendations as he wanted to treat me to something new. I was glad I didn't mention earlier that I only knew these places because of past dates with other guys.

We got back to his place, and we cuddled for so long (until 10:45 in fact) that I think I might have exhausted him.

Another foot-in-the-mouth moment: I mentioned how I might miss him while he's gone traveling in the next two weeks, and teasingly said maybe we should declare each other as boyfriends to lock him down from the straight girls in his hometown.

He reminded me that I had said I wasn't sure about committing to a relationship last week (I had said I wasn't sure if the emotional connection was there yet), and that he's in fact guarding his feelings for me, until we're ready to go further. He wasn't sure if I see him more than friends with benefits.

I realized I was doing something bad here. Again, I was being emotionally manipulative. I have this tendency to squeeze out affirmative declarations from other people (yeah, let's be boyfriends!), without really worrying about what it means, including whether I'm ready to commit. It's happened before in the past dates, where I'm the one moving things forward, too fast.

I've become a lot more comfortable with myself in the past year. Some of the comfort comes with familiarity, I suppose; I know my way around my body, how to style my hair, how to dress in a passable way, and I'm decent at comfortable with carrying a conversation, most of the time.

Dating was something I explored throughout the past year. Of course, I'm never going to be Instagram famous, but with these three guys I dated/am dating, I at least know that I can be attractive. I learned a lot about myself along the numerous dates that sometimes went on too long or finished too fast, or ranged from marvelous to embarrassing in hindsight, and I'm starting to be more confident with what I want.

We'll see how this current guy works out (I swooned when I saw how him in the tank and the pink shorts on Saturday morning), but I like how we're taking it slow and without complications like sipping hot chocolate in an overrated San Francisco dessert shop (his favorite, of course).

On the other hand, I'm not going anywhere in my career. During the pandemic, my career has been at a standstill: the same individual contributor analyst role. I could compare myself endlessly to everyone else--yesterday at their birthday gathering in Oakland, they said they were promoted to a PM role and I felt that familiar envy that everyone is moving ahead of me.

The prescription is less dating and more resume-updating, networking and studying, right? I never follow my own medicine instructions, unfortunately.

I really like this guy. Today, we met at Barry's, which while is just an over-stimulating HIIT class, is a decent 50 minute workout, and we ended the session drenched in sweat.

My date had hinted at the instructor as being attractive in our previous date, and I suppose he could be objectively speaking, if I squinted. The instructor bantered with my date and me, yelling motivational things about how I was doing great and might even catch up to my date, and bemoaning the Warriors basketball team's loss, which got absolutely no reaction from the room of white/Asian women in lululemon and gay guys.

The instructor even asked me how I knew my date, and seeing me dumbstruck, he quickly moved along. My date laughed about this later during lunch, saying he was curious what I was going to say. I wasn't going to say we met on Hinge, so I figured I would have said we met at work.

After the session, my date enthusiastically waved down the instructor for a photo with us three. While I grinned sheepishly, my date struck the most heterosexual pose ever with the pumped up bicep, which I found so simultaneously cute and alluring that I later jerked off to it at home.

We got lunch in the Stanford mall at a vegan restaurant that was of course, overpriced and trying too hard to be interesting, but I suppose I enjoyed the flatbread and its weird texture of the fake cheese. He's a vegetarian, but at least he's not a picky one as I observed that he happily ate all his broccolini and mushrooms.

We walked around the outdoor strip mall, just talking for almost four hours (I was surprised to see it was almost six in the evening when I left for home), and I just found him so irresistibly charming and sensitive, as we chatted about various conversation topics ranging from bonding with our parents, recurring nightmares, overcoming our fears (comedy stand-up, dancing in crowds), and a little foray into Hindu-Muslim relations. He invited me over next week to his place to cook me dinner and a subtitled film. I'm delighted.

Today he delved further into his struggles with weight loss, and I saw how my frequent compliments about his body might have touched upon his anxieties. I meant my compliments genuinely ("You have nice shoulders"), but I think doubling down on even more compliments to reassure him he's hot, maybe wasn't very mature of me.

Embarrassingly, while he was leaning into me, showing me photos of his Paris trip, I looked at him and asked if I could kiss him. He deflected, quickly looking around us, and I didn't hear what he was saying, because I was immediately making excuses, saying yeah, it's too early for us, we haven't known each other that long, and I just kept babbling about how I just got of seeing another guy just in March, and that I'm trying to modulate my feelings to stop from moving too fast, and everything else I could blurt out. Essentially, we sort of established that we're just exploring spending time together, taking things slow, but that so far, we both find each other cute.

Meanwhile, I made the mistake of getting Mother's Day flowers and leaving it in the car in 90+ Fahrenheit weather, and the tulips were all wilted by the time I tried reviving them by sticking them in empty water bottles.

I felt a pang of guilt that maybe the wilted flowers are a sign that I again spent so much time outside, while my mom was inside doing legal research for her divorce (although she did drive in the morning for her workout). Maybe, the wilted flowers represent how I can't make my mom happy while I go on gay dates, and that I can't have both in my life.