"Metrosexual men would resent any implications about their sexuality, and never consider themselves anything but 'real men.'"

Oh, lordy. We're really going to talk about this, aren't we.

When Young-Kyung (my youngest co-teacher) explained to me last night that this symbol marks parking spaces reserved for female drivers, I was dumbstruck. Apparently, these "privileged" parking spots are commonly found outside of department stores. Ugh.

I told some of you that "blurring gender norms" was this week's english-teachers'-tea-time topic (incidentally, also chosen by Young-Kyung). I was excited when I found it out (maybe my co-teachers aren't as heteronormative as I thought!), but I'm afraid the result was discouraging, to say the least. The conversation centered around whether the "shocking" behavior of so-called "metrosexual"* men should be acceptable. My co-teachers all agreed that while they had no problem with men "dressing up, styling their hair, going to the salon, or wearing makeup," no woman in her right mind would ever want to marry such a man. Their main concern about "metrosexuals" was that accepting their behavior would lead to an increase in what they called the "homosexual problem." Thanks to Harisu, the topic of transgendering was briefly discussed, but predominantly dismissed as a hormone defect, an illness to be pitied.

I was so uncomfortable and upset that I could barely speak. I did my best to explain that I view sexuality (not to mention style of dress) as a personal choice and believe that all personal life choices should be accepted. I explained the difference between transgender, transvestite, and homosexual to my confused co-teachers, and also explained that "no, Harisu's husband is not gay, because Harisu is a woman." See here for South Korea on transgendering and marriage.

I told them that I had many homosexual and transgender friends, and that I found their personal choices just as acceptable as the choices of heterosexual people. I'm sorry guys, I couldn't come out to them, I just couldn't.

I wanted to cry after the "tea time," but instead I went to my last class of the day and made them laugh with my comic strips and satoo-sensei acting style (i.e. I am two people at once, perpetually jumping around the room and using papers with "Gary" and "Semin" [the textbook's name choices, not mine] written on them). This week, Semin tells Gary to watch out because there is a car coming, but Gary has his head up his ass and gets hit by the car anyway. His elbow breaks. The class thinks it's hilarious when I fall down and yell "Ouch!" while clutching at my elbow.

I can't talk about gender and queerness anymore right now. It's making me depressed, and I have productive things that I want to do today. Like Korean class, I am going to Korean class every Saturday now. Just know, all you lovely and brilliant friends, that I love you and miss you to distraction.

So, in conclusion:

Look at that smug little asshole, perched up on the ceiling where he thinks I can't get to him. He's been torturing me for two days. He hides during the day and only comes out at night when I'm half-asleep to bite any pieces of skin left uncovered by my blanket.

I took my world map, rolled it up into a pole of sorts, turned a flat-bottomed cup upside-down and put it on the end of the map, and stealthily smashed the little fucker. Take that, asshole.

*Why do people call it "metrosexual," anyway? The connotations have everything to do with style of dressing and toiletry habits, and nothing at all to do with sexuality.