By the time I finally found my blind date’s hotel and parked the car, Dara was the last thing on my mind.

Junsu and I had hung out with the KMV crowd for about an hour, but Dara didn’t show. When I looked at my watch I realized I had less than an hour to plan the perfect date. Maybe you’ve already noticed, but I totally stress under pressure. Anyway, we’d finally gone back to the beach house, and Junsu had helped me figure the whole evening out, down to the last detail. If I could have, I’d have gotten Min’s opinion too, but he wasn’t really speaking to us, what with us having left him alone with Bom and all.

I eased Junsu’s convertible into a narrow parking space and turned off the engine, taking a few deep breaths before I got out of the car. I dressed to impress which Junsu helped picked. I took a second to straighten my clothes in the reflection of the car windows, wishing once again that I’d packed my sports coat. It was a miracle that I even had the pants, though, and I had to be satisfied with that. Gripping the bouquet of flowers that I’d bought from a girl on the corner, I headed for the hotel lobby.

I felt kind of stupid not even knowing what my date’s name was. All I had was a room number, so I avoided the front desk and headed straight for the elevator, which was crowded. It was mostly kids on break, still wearing bathing suits even though it was dinnertime. I felt conspicuous in my clothes and was relieved when the doors opened again and I stepped out on my date’s floor. Junsu had warned me that I might be overdoing it with the flowers, but I had overruled him. I was determined to make the date as good as possible. The hall was empty, and I found the right door easily. After only a moment of nervous hesitation, I knocked.

Now, I don’t want you think that I’m not open-minded, but try to picture this. I’m standing there in my best clothes, with reservation at an Italian restaurant, and the girl who opened the door…well…

Let’s start with the hair, I guess.

It was blue. Bright blue. And spiked like a porcupine or something. Okay, and then there was the nose ring, Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I probably could have handled the nose piercing if it hadn’t included a chain that looped to my date’s right ear, which was pierced so many times I lost count. Then there was the make-up and nail polish, all of it black, and the silber rings shaped like skulls on almost every finger. To tell you the truth, I almost didn’t notice her dress at that point, except that it was a deep shade of red.

“Hi,” said this unexpected creater. “I’m Young-Il.”

“Young-Il,” I repeated, dazed. “I’m Kim Jaejoong or Jae for short.”

She just stood there, looking at me, and suddenly I realized that I was supposed to do something. “Uh, here,” I added belatedly, shoving the flowers into her hands. “These are for you.”

“Thanks.” She opened the door a little wider and tossed them over her shoulder onto the unmade bed – the whole room was a disaster – then she stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her. “Should we go?”

I tried not to think about the money I spent on the flowers dying in Young-Il’s room as we walked out to the parking lot and headed for Junsu’s car. After all, they were a gift and you shouldn’t begrudge a gift. Still, it would have been nice if she’d at least looked at them.

“Let me get the door for you,” I offered as we reached the convertible.

Young-Il looked at me as though I’d just crawled out from under a rock. “I was afraid you were going to be that way the second I saw you,” she said. “Listen, Jae, if we’re going to hang out together, you’d better get something straight right now. I’m perfectly capable of opening my own doors, pulling out my own chairs, and doing anything else you might feel the urge to do for me. Oh, and I go to the bathroom by myself too,” she added sarcastically.

Her name suits her. Young-Il stands for “superiority forever” as far as I know.

“Right,” I said, opening my door and waiting for Young-Il to climb into the car on her own. For the first time ever, I found myself wishing that Junsu’s car wasn’t a convertible, but I squelched that thought. It seemed pretty shallow to worry about what people on the street were going to think of Young-Il when I wasn’t even sure what I thought of her myself yet.

“I made reservations at an Italian restaurant,” I said as we pulled out into traffic. “It’s supposed to be excellent.”

“Whatever,” Young-Il said. She flipped on Junsu’s radio without asking and fiddled with the dials until she found some real industrial-sounding music. Then she cranked it all the way up. “Want a cigarette?” she shouted, digging through an army surplus rucksack that apparently passed as her purse.

“I don’t smoke.” Actually, I hate smoking, but Young-Il never asked.

“Your loss,” she said, lighting up and blowing a big cloud of air pollution out of her lungs. Doubtful as it had already seemed, now I knew for sure. I wasn’t kissing her. Whatever else happened that evening, that was definite.

“So, Young-Il,” I said, trying to make a conversation. “That’s an unusual name. What’s your last name?”

Young-Il looked at me critically, then settled back in the passenger seat more comfortably and attempted to blow a smoke ring in the open car. “Just Young-Il. I totally reject society’s conventional obsession with surnames, so I hope you don’t have a problem with that. The whole system is based on a patriarchal power strip that no self-respecting woman would buy into.”

Huh? I thought. “That’s cool,” I said.

“Are you political?” Young-Il asked. “I hope so, because I can’t stand hanging around with people who say things like, ‘This is the best country in the world’ every time someone points out a legitimate problem. I mean, grow up. You know?”

“Sure,” I agreed, completely at a loss. The convertible was humming down the road, and the warm twilight wind streamed through our hair. It could have been totally romantic – with someone else. “My friend Junsu says that the restaurant we’re going to has a great view of The Cove. Afterward, we can walk down there and watch the waves if you want.” I said it casually, but actually a walk on the beach called The Cove was an integral part of the evening I’d planned.

Young-Il looked at me as if I just didn’t get it. “Whatever,” she said with a sigh.

At the restaurant, the valet took Junsu’s car, and I tried not to think about what the “dream evening” was going to coast me as I tipped him a couple of bucks. Dinner alone would be expensive. And then there were the flowers, gas, valet parking, and whatever we did after dinner. I’d been planning to take her dancing after our walk at The cove, but now I wasn’t so sure. We walked up the sidewalk to the restaurant, and I successfully curbed the urge to run in front of Young-Il and open the door for her.

“Oh, man. Dig this place,” Young-Il said as we stepped into the fancy restaurant. “What a trite middle-class fantasy.” I had begun to notice by then that Young-Il’s voice was unusually nasal and grating. Not to mention loud.

“Do you have a reservation with us this evening?” said the maître d’, approaching us and looking at Young-Il with distaste. Believe me, I totally sympathized.

I gave him my name, and he put us at a table for two right by the window at the far e