Let’s talk about something I am definitely not proud of and Mom, Dad, if you are reading this – feel free to close this window as soon as you can.
Before I came to Korea I had already heard of the legendary Lovemotels you find around every corner. They usually look like a shitty building, with tinyass windows, curtains at the parking lots (you will understand why) and even weirder names. Even though Korean socitey is becoming more and more westernized, talking about sex or even the existance of it is still a big cultural taboo. And since many young Koreans live at home with their parents or in one of the gender-seperated dormitories – having some one-on-one quality time with your significant other can become quite difficult. You might have seen this on a night out before: Continue reading “Confessions of a Partygirl: Drunk Sex in Love Motels”
If you ask some of my university friends back home about me, they would probably describe me in three words: Cute. Sweet. Pink. And to some extend that is true. Give me some chocolate, seat me in front of a Disney movie and I’ll turn into a clingy, whiny little girl again. But don’t you dare expect to the see the same person in me now, after ten months of living abroad. Granted – I still wear my pink backpack when I go to a Hello Kitty Cafe. But after all those months of clubbing, drinking and lots of dating, I realized: The feminist in me doesn’t want to be called cute anymore. Continue reading “The Cute Girls Of Seoul – And Why I Don’t Want To Be One Of Them”
It’s been three weeks since we broke up … 24 days to be precise. Every one who has been through a break up knows – it’s hard! But believe me: It’s even harder when you are still in love. It’s a situation no one ever prepared me for. And it’s a situation I never expected to go through … and even though I loved him so much, I was the one who chose to walk away.
We had met on a typical Saturnight in a Bar in Hongdae. After pre-gaming with a guy I had met the night before, I ended up hopping on the last subway to meet my friends, who later on introduced me to the boy I now call my ex-boyfriend. He looked like a typical fuckboy: Tattoos all over his arms, hands and even his neck, perfectly parted dark hair and an arrogant smile on his face. We all got drunk together and shortly after I found myself in his arms, exchanging steamy kisses on the dance floor. I went home that night. Alone. And I remember falling into my bed just labeling it as one of the usual hook ups we all have, right? But this time was different. Continue reading “On Breaking Up With Someone You Still Love”