So this is the story of how a geek like me got a girl like Amy.

I remember the first time I saw Amy, almost 5 years ago this month. It was the summer between my 1st and 2nd year of medical school and my mom was visiting. She wanted to go to a little Korean restaurant called University Cafe, next door to Rick’s Bar in Ann Arbor.

That’s when I saw her. She was the only waitress in this little Korean restaurant. Her long brown hair and long legs weaving in and out between the tables and chairs. She came over to take our order.

I had a cold and sore throat at that time, so I was looking and feeling pretty miserable. My mom ordered for us. Amy watched my mom as she asked about the entrees and I watched Amy, ready to avert my gaze if she turned my way. I remember looking at her smooth cheekbones and those full lips and already thinking she must have had a boyfriend. I was 22, and I couldn’t tell if she was 17 or 30. I had no idea. There was something indecipherable about her. I was lost in her mystery when I suddenly heard:

“And this is my son, he’s a medstudent,” my mom interjected.

Oh shit!! I hate it when she does that! Then Amy looked me over and said flatly, “Oh yeah?” I was feeling very sick at that point and wiped my nose and said, “Hi,” behind a tissue. And she was gone just as quickly. Yet another great impression.

Ahh… she’s not very friendly, and she wasn’t that beautiful anyways, I thought to myself. Still, whenever she came over to our table I kept on sneaking glances at her in between wiping my nose. She didn’t look at me the entire time.

I was working in a lab that summer splicing bacterial RNA and watching them grow in petri dishes. Watching bacteria… YAAWWnnnn… grow. I spent most of my time waiting for my lunch break so I could see Amy again. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Before I left for the Cafe, I’d brush my teeth and straighten my tie. Even on my days off I would go there in a nice shirt and tie, thinking maybe this would impress her or make me seem more mature than I was. When I got there she was working again and seemed to recognize me and asked if I was still sick. She had this coolness and professionalism to her that made her nearly unapproachable. Maybe it was the challenge that intrigued me. I had to get to know her but I had no idea how. So I just asked her what was in Korean Dish No.1. I’m not sure what she said, because I was concentrating on watching her lips move, but I said I’ll take it. After I ate, I made sure the table was as clean as when I had sat down and I brought her the trays and plates trying to be helpful. I would always leave a good tip.

And so it went. Every day for the next 2 weeks I went there for lunch, asking her to describe a new Korean dish, trying to say one extra word to her with each day. “Hi” on day one. “Hello there,” on day two. “How are you?” on day three. You get the idea. But I had yet to see a boyfriend.

Then one day, she stopped to rest and sat in the chair across from me! I damn near fell out of MY chair. She even started a conversation with me. I can’t remember what she said, but I remember my heart trying to jackhammer its way out of my chest. That was the start of us talking. Her mom cooked the food most times, and sometimes she would say things to Amy in Korean that I couldn’t understand while looking and pointing directly at me.

After a few days of this I finally asked her out to a movie and a coffeeshop afterwards. I remembered during the movie when I was reaching for the popcorn our hands touched and I got nervous and pulled my hand back. I didn’t cross the armrest for the rest of the movie. (Amy would later tell me that she tried to touch my hand on purpose that night.) At the coffeeshop I remember talking about art, careful not to say that I liked painting and drawing women almost exclusively. I didn’t want her to know I was a perv too! I got some valuable information by then: Amy was 2 years younger than me, and she was a nursing student. She also had this “friend” who was some white-guy like 15 years older than her who asked her to see Asian movies every weekend with him. Males can tell when other males are not “just friends,” usually long before the female ever knows. I knew this guy was not going to want to be “just friends” forever. She also told me something about some other Asian guy (a Hmong, I think was his nationality) she had to straighten things out with. Things were starting to get complicated from day one.

At one point, she told me, “I don’t think I should be getting into a relationship right now. I think I’ll just end up hurting you.”

I said like any love fool, “Well, there are risks in everything in life. It’s my heart, and I’m willing to take that chance.”

On our second date, the topic of boyfriends came up. She told me how her uncle had asked how many boyfriends she had. I remember exactly where we were when I asked what her response was. We had just walked through a stone tunnel through the archaic engineering building and out onto the large expanse of concrete where many student demonstrations had taken place. It was a late summer evening and it had seemed very empty for such a usually social gathering spot. When I asked her what she said to her uncle, she said, “I have TEN boyfriends!” and she laughed. Her laugh unnerved me. It didn’t sound like she was kidding. It sounded more like a victory laugh. I felt like the whole earth opened up at that time and I was in freefall with my stomach leading. Oh great, I am totally head over heels over this woman and the cloud I was walking on just turned into thin air. And now I’m falling into the void, and eventually I’ll hit the bottom and it is going to hurt… like hell.

Our 3rd date, I remember quite vividly in red. I remember it was very hot that day and she said we were going to a casual restaurant. I met her at the restaurant wearing shorts and a tanktop (I was a daily gym rat back then). When I saw her, I thought my brain was going to burst from visual overload. She was wearing this slinky painted-on cherry red dress with matching lipstick. It had a low neckline and I never realized until then that she had the most phenomenal breasts I had ever seen. I felt so embarrassed that I was dressed like a Neanderthal and she looked like the Goddess of Lust when we entered that restaurant. I was uncomfortable with all the stares the other freaking apes in the place shot at her. I swear our waitress was disgusted with me while she practically fawned over Amy.

After dinner, we went to my place. I showed her my paintings. I actually had a little balcony in my 10′ x 10′ room. We stood out on that balcony and talked for hours. Slowly so slowly I would literally inch my way closer to her while thinking of something to say to keep her up there with me. After like 2 or 3 hours I was actually close enough to her to touch her. Then we ran out of things to say. Oh fuck!! - I thought. I wanted to kiss her so badly, to feel her unbelievable body in my arms, but I was too scared. I was thinking I was about to watch a perfect night become another chapter in my book of How to Become a Loser for Life. She was so close that I could feel her breathing. I’d never done this before, not like this, never with anyone like her! Who was I kidding, the truth of me had shown itself. I didn’t know what to do, my loser side started taking over. I knew she would probably leave in frustration any minute. I stood there looking at the midnight shadows in the trees ahead of me wishing I were someone else just for a moment, when she touched me.

She turned my chin toward her and kissed my lips; an angel’s touch, as gentle as a raindrop on a rose petal. She caressed my soul with the silken touch of her moist lips. The smell of her lipstick and perfume set me on fire. Our breathing mingled and got heavier. Our bodies on that balcony explored and held each other so close like two chained prisoners falling into the sea of desire. Our tongues moving like a Hindu dancer’s rhythmic limbs. We managed to get to my bed, fully-clothed the whole time, pushing and grinding into each other. Her face turned up in ecstasy while cooing and gasping in rhythm to the ocean’s tides on some primal shore.

Needless to say, things went very quickly from that point on. She told me how she told her Hmong friend, an old ex-boyfriend in denial that it was truly over. She told me how that “movie friend” of hers had wanted more than the price of a movie ticket from her and she banished him from her life too. She also told me that she had been going out with this other guy before the summer started and that they had broken up just before he left. But he wasn’t even around anyways. His name was “Dave.”

My 2nd year of medschool started and we had been going out for 2 weeks then. Everything was so perfect. Life was heaven. I had never imagined such happiness. I thought it was a dream. We saw each other every other day since I had to study so much. We arranged to meet one morning for breakfast like we often did at a restaurant. When Amy picked me up that morning I knew something was wrong. She was quiet. She didn’t laugh at my jokes. She said she was tired. She had gone out to some dance club the night before with her sister and friends. It wasn’t a big deal to me since she went every Thursday night for “Asian Invasion” Night at The Nectarine.

At the breakfast place, she said, “I have to tell you something.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s over.”

“What? What do you mean? What’s over?”

That spark in her eyes for me was gone, as if she couldn’t remember ever seeing me before.

She was icy cold, like death, “You and me. It’s over. I met Dave at the Nectarine yesterday and we’ve decided to get back together. I can’t see you again. I’m going to the washroom now. When I come out, I don’t want to see you here,” and she went into the washroom.

I couldn’t believe it. Was this all a plan? A trick? Was I really just a summer distraction. The way she talked like that, I felt like she hated me. But I didn’t do anything to make her hate me. If anything I loved her too much. Is that a reason to hate someone?

I didn’t want to stay around when she came out of the washroom. The emptiness in her eyes scared me. I didn’t ever want to see that again. I was going numb. My mind had a thousand voices screaming like a turbine engine in my head. I couldn’t think about anything. I could barely get up without stumbling, but I did. I had to get outside, my eyes were watering, and my head was killing me. So I stood up, took some money out of my pocket and left a good tip.

And I left.

(To be continued in the next entry.)