Squish, squish

So yesterday was Typhoon Signal No. 3. YIKES! That was a real tropical downpour. When I came back from looking at a few apartments with a realtor whose English was limited and Mandarin nonexistent (and my Cantonese is minimal -- boy, THAT was fun afternoon), I took off my sodden sneakers outside the apartment (no need to drip all over the Pergo. I thought) and walked across to the kitchen in my socks....and then realized that I was leaving big wet footprints across the floor. Oh well, I tried.

Then I went out to meet a professional acquaintance for dinner -- cute, straight, smart, funny, with fantastic English (you have no idea what a relief that last item is when I come across it)...but sadly accessorized with a girlfriend, I found out over dessert. No identifying details shall be mentioned as I am mortified at the thought that someone I know professionally (or worse yet, someone who knows him) might wander across this blog.

In any case, I was dreading the thought of going back into the deluge, despite the thought of entertaining, attractive (and as I mistakenly thought, single) company for dinner. My New Yorker experience came in handy when I had to fight a schoolboy for the cab which got me there (hey, I was waiting there much longer! what did he think I was doing there? enjoying the blazing sunset?) by dashing down the road and hopping in.

By the time we sat down to dinner, my shoes were squelching across the floor (such graceful sound effects), my jeans were soaking wet, and we both looked like we ran through a waterfall (which is in effect what we did) despite each of us having large, caned umbrellas. [I can see I will have to invest in some serious raingear: galoshes, jackets, etc..] Dinner at a Japanese place named Watami was fun (and I was much more relaxed when, 3 hours in, I found out he was attached). The rain had magically stopped by the time we left after 4 hours of chatting (no, not chatting UP, just chatting -- sadly).

I think my disappointment over Mr. Fun Dinner Companion stems in large part from my loneliness. I know a few people here, but not very many. The language barrier [as most of you know, Cantonese bears almost no resemblance whatsoever to Mandarin or Shanghainese] + lack of knowing where I am going + how to get there + how to explain it to the cabbie if he doesn't speak English! (see: language barrier, above) + business meetings in limited English + colleagues who are will not stop me to ask what I mean [it's a cultural thing] = me as one big ball of stress & isolation.

Plus, it has been 6 months since my SO and I broke up after 2 years together (I really think this lack of identifying details is a VERY good idea that I will stick to: those of you who know me, know who I mean, and the others who randomly ran across this blog, don't need to) so I am finally capable of noticing when someone is attractive. Hey, can I mention again that Mr. Dinner Partner's English is fantastic?

To me, the ability to communicate and be articulate -- in both directions -- is extremely important, in business and personally, so between the INSANE workload, and the isolation, I am increasingly hesitant to accept this transfer. In the end, I will probably still do it, but I go in knowing that I will be depressed, isolated, and stressed out for the first several months. What a lovely prospect to contemplate.