The Great Depression began (1929) and also Jin stopped texting me (2014). She taught English at Samsung global HQ and wrote (good) free-verse poetry. Gleefully racist stuff that she could get away with because she was Korean. One was called “Poem by a Black Kid” and had intentionally misplaced commas. When we went out together it made other guys grimace and rip up their coasters, which is one of the greatest joys a man can experience. On Halloween week I was working on my Captain America costume and when I set my phone down after a text I just knew it was the last one. Stay single for a few moons and you learn to read minds from afar. No reply to my text even though it was my most masterful text I’d ever sent, a perfectly-timed snap of wit. The thing is that every guy is witty now. Women get machine-gunned with it and are building up an immunity.
She liked white guys and had plans to move to Germany to crush as much dick as she could. I mean, why else does anyone move abroad but to fuck people with accents. Halloween she was out with a white guy with a Tony Stark beard and it made me sad. For him, right, because of his unseemly beard. If I saw a therapist I might say: Jin was a player and she turned me into one. But that’s not true. I’m an amoral, red-blooded male so it’s not like I need an excuse. Still, I have a Rain Man memory for dates and when I noticed it was October 29th it made me think of Jin, the dick-crusher, the only Korean girl who had game.