Filed under: korea
The pig-faced man gazes at me from under lowered eyebrows.
“Russsshhia?” he drawls.
I am not a Russian prostitute.
The boys frequent ice-cream parlours, sharing sundaes while perched happily on red love seats. They giggle and swat at each other and spoon up frozen yoghurt covered with berries and chocolate.
Boys alone together. How often do you see two Western guys out alone, doing something other than drinking or playing sports? If they’re on a lunch date, it’s probably either business or McDonald’s. Men don’t do lunch dates: definitely not high-school boys, and definitely not at ice-cream parlours.
I like the lack of forced machismo in the guys here. They’re comfortable together. They carry their girlfriend’s handbag for her, because she can’t balance it, strictured as she is in her lemon knit, miniskirt and tottery high heels. Regular, un-gay boys wear candy pink, sky blue, lime green, lemon yellow and purple shirts. They pull off overtly fashionable clothing and hairstyles as successfully as their girlfriends. Some of the younger ones hold hands walking down the street.
I didn’t really notice all this until I attempted to think of two Kiwi boys going to an ice-cream parlour, sitting under a pink sign that said “Be a pearly pretty girl!” and eating ice-cream with little silver spoons. And wearing pink shirts. Not going to happen. Young guys here don’t seem to have a problem with looking ‘gay’. They’ll eat frozen yoghurt and have a good time. It’s refreshing.
