Go away you little Filipino man.

Shanghai Travel Blog

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Me and [whatever his name was]

This is neither well written, nor is it completely contiguous. But I had to write from the heart.

 

I’ve been befriended. And in the worst way.

I’m staying in a four bed dorm, and there is a little Filipino man (probably 25 years old) who will not stop talking to me. He follows me around, he asks me what I’m doing next. He asks me if he can come. I'm in the common room now, and he sat down next to me. No one else is in this common room, and it has about 20 chairs

I made the fatal mistake of chatting with him when I met him for the first time. I asked where he was from. He asked where I was from. The usual traveler’s parlance.

I’ll just abridge the story:

He has a girlfriend, but he doesn’t know what country she is in. It could be Norway, but last he heard she was working at the Thai embassy in Finland. But he doesn’t really know. “It’s been very difficult.” I have a feeling she was an unfortunate traveler he met in a youth hostel and started calling his girlfriend. He will probably tell everyone at home how awesome of a friend I am. We have never even exchanged names.

He said he wasn’t going to go out last night, but then kept giving me doe-eyes when he repeatedly asked me where I was going. Then he said “We are going to dinner”. What? “Me and you, we are going to dinner.” We danced in conversation until I had to blatantly lie to him. “I have a date”.  

He looked like I had stolen his lollipop. “Oh. You are so lucky to have a date. I will be bored here at the hostel tonight. Where are you going on your date? Maybe I could---”

“No. Absolutely not.”

So this morning, I wake up at 8:30 to completely unnecessary, obnoxious noise. It was the kind of noise that people only make with great effort to “accidentally” wake you up. Crunching plastic bags and wrappers. Slamming cabinet doors.

And then the gurgling and sliding. What is this god forsaken noise?

It was the noise that a bottle makes when it’s running low on sun tan lotion. Over and over again. Only more... oily.

And then it was this quick and violent “shhhchhh.... shhhhcchhhh”. Like a world champion martial artist was lubing up his body for the big fight. Pump it up.

I had to roll over and give the “will you please shut the fuck up” stare?

WRONG MOMENT.

I caught him at the stage in lubing up where he is 3 feet away from my bed and had his tighty-whities mid-thigh so he could lube his hips. Little tiny Filipino penis in your face. Wham.

“AAGH!”

“Oh!  Good Morning!”

I rolled over and didn’t dare look back until he left the room 30 minutes later.

 

UPDATE: He followed me to breakfast, invited me to come to the Philippines with him. And then when he ordered (the exact same thing that I ordered), I had to pay for him because he only had a hundred RMB bill. Breakfast only cost 2 RMB.

 

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Me and [whatever his name was]
Me and [whatever his name was]
Shanghai
photo by: Chokk