“You checked with her?” I grab chopsticks and dig into the glass noodles.
Jihoon tilts his head to the side, then fetches kimchi from Hana’s inexhaustible store, which he cuts with scissors before plating it. “Of course. I wanted to know what you’d like but didn’t want to wake you up.”
I can’t believe he’s real. Who does that?
“You’re a fantastic cook.” I’ve been too busy eating to have properly congratulated the chef. “Why do you eat so much instant ramen when you can cook like this?”
“I don’t like to cook only for myself.” Again he bites his lip. “Eating together is good. I missed this from home.”
Since I’m now on my second glass of wine, I decide this is as good an opening as I’m going to get. “Hana said you left Seoul because of a breakup. Do you want to talk about it?”
Jihoon snaps his chopsticks on some kimchi and examines it before lowering it slowly to his plate. “The breakup.”
“They’re hard,” I say. I’m trying, but I’m not the best at talking about relationships and wish Hana were here to pilot the conversation. She’s a solid INFP on the Myers-Briggs, an Enneagram Type-2 Pisces. Or so she tells me, because those things are bull. She says that’s exactly what an INTJ, Type-8 Aquarius would think. “Breakups.”
“Yes.” He sips his own wine, frowning as if deciding what to say. “We’d been together a long time, and I wasn’t sure who I was outside of it. I came here to think about what I wanted and whether people would accept me for what I have to offer on my own.”
Despite his words, the longing in his voice is so clear that I wonder if he’s not completely done with his partner. I wouldn’t judge, even though part of me is almost jealous of this person who has so much of his attention. Even after the brief time we’ve known each other, I feel the power of his focus. When Jihoon’s listening, it’s like he’s entirely in the moment and that moment is all about you.
I’ve only known him for two weeks, but that much attentiveness is addictive.
“You couldn’t sort it out back home?” I ask.
His nod is so decisive that his hair flops over his forehead like a living thing. “I needed to get away and clear my head. If I were there, I would get drawn back in. How can you explore yourself surrounded by all the same things that have determined who you’ve been for so long?”
I don’t bother with a lot of self-reflection, but I see where he’s coming from. “I’ve never left the country, so I wouldn’t know.”
He tilts his head to the side. “You don’t like to travel?”
“Never had the chance, but I’d love to.” I poke at some bean sprouts on my plate. “I plan trips a lot, for fun.”
“Ah.” Jihoon doesn’t say anything else, but I’m left with an uncomfortable feeling that I said more than the words. “That sounds relaxing.”
It is, but I look away, self-conscious about my private obsession. “Oh, you know.”
“I don’t,” he says. “Tell me.”
I deflect. “It’s nothing, only something to look forward to. Like looking at the menu before you go to the restaurant.”
“Anticipation.”
More vicarious living, since none of these trips are for me. “How about you?”
“My trips are usually for work, so I don’t see much besides the hotel room and where I’m working. Someone does all the scheduling.”
That’s almost worse than not going at all. We both eat silently until Jihoon pauses, holding his glass midair.
“Let’s plan a trip,” he says. “Our ideal trip.”
It could be the wine and the intimate, warm feeling of eating with Jihoon that causes my first question to be “Where to?” instead ofwhy would we do that?
He grins and pushes himself back from the table. “Anywhere. Everywhere. We could take an around-the-world cruise. Or find a small village in the Alps and feed goats for a month.”
“Did you know goats can climb trees?” I think about it. “I’m in.”
We clear off the table as we narrow down our location. “Relaxing or active?” I ask.
“Moving relaxes me. I like to walk.” He brings the wine and glasses to the living room and comes back to clear the water jug. “Busy or quiet?”
