There were things I learnt which must now be slowly unlearnt. I could no longer allow a crisis of identity and belonging to be escalated into a crisis of self-worth. I could no longer allow a conversation about everything that I am to be overtaken by everything that I am not.
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I could un-match with a tap, and reply a message or two whenever I was free. Hookup requests were ignored and unmatched, together with clingy or dead end conversations. That wasn’t my purpose of tinder, but rather to just have fun.
Baijui tastes like turpentine. It is one of the most god awful things I ever drank. I would drink a few shots of it over a cigarette with the ex-military cab driver who owned a little dive just outside my apartment in Fuzhou: a filthy concrete hovel with a kitchen the size of a coffin and a dining room that could seat no more than a dozen…