Vaporfornia Chapter 7: My Asian Girlfriend

Chapter 7: My Asian Girlfriend

The next week I spend endless hours lying in bed, contemplating the purpose of my existence. I had big dreams in high school, of being on the path to becoming a well-respected journalist. Enjoying the college experience and meeting the girl of my dreams who I can impress by making the world a better place. But in reality what have I accomplished?

Maybe I am a loser and none of my political ideals or urbanist blogging and photo journals mean jack shit. Just silly hobbies.  The last few days are more bearable since my mom has refilled my Klonopin at the pharmacy.

As soon as I take my pills I’m out of my depressed anxious state and just chill, trying to regain a sense of optimism and make the best of my situation.

I start my first day at City College, excited about all the intellectually stimulating classes I signed up for. I look around and notice that the City College is a lot more diverse than my high school which was predominantly White and fairly affluent. Perhaps I will be more accepted in a more diverse and inclusive environment?

Most of these students must be from lower income communities further north. All the popular girls with wealthy parents from my high school must have gone off to exclusive universities back East or to party schools. As much as I resented them, I feel left behind. Even though I was rejected I kind of miss just being in their presence. 

I’m not a standardcel like that killer Noam who coped with his inadequacies and struggles to live up to his White Privilege with delusions of Aristocracy and a racist preference of only being attracted to blonde, White girls. I remember some celebrity getting heat for saying something like my heart loves everyone, but my dick’s racist. But sexual racism is just as bad as any other form of bigotry.

Let me try to keep count of all the girls of color I was attracted to. There were quite a few actually. But they were still all from relatively privileged backgrounds and all went on to great universities. Would Blackstone’s programs spread beauty across all class lines rather than just a luxury reserved for the elites, a kind of aesthetic Marxism?

Overcome with shame, I start starring at the asses of the girls of color and envision they’re using me at those parties. I shouldn’t be objectifying them like that. It’s bad enough I’m walking around with a massive hardon and I’m almost late to my first class which is on Economic Theory.

In class I start to daydream about the girl from the oasis as the professor goes on and on about economics. Then I hear the name Blackstone which grabs my attention. The Professor explains this concept of Positional Goods which are goods that are in limited supply due to their value relative to others. He strongly dislikes Blackstone, but admits that he has unlocked the key of how to win people over by addressing their untapped desire for positional goods.

This really hits me because I have always had my basic needs of food, shelter, and healthcare taken care of, but the things that I have deep, unmet desires for are all positional: primarily access to people, locations, and things of aesthetic value. The professor goes on that the fundamentals of Blackstone’s platform are to increase the supply of positional goods. Appealing to the middle class who strive to become wealthy by providing this image of a bourgeoise utopia where everyone is rich because everyone and everything is aesthetically pleasing.

The Professor explains that Blackstone would increase the supply of luxury housing for the petite bourgeoise, but the catch is it would be developed by his real estate firm, filling his pockets. He adds he would also appeal to the racial anxiety of the White upper-middle-class who view being around “the right kind of White” people as a Positional Good. He’d do this by giving them natalist tax breaks and ending anti-discrimination laws in housing, propagating the bigoted notion that there’s competition over a limited number of desirable people. None of which will do anything to address inequality. Just bribing the proletariat with a basic income, which he’d make conditional on eugenic grounds, while nice things are still only for the rich, just making the size of the upper class larger. And are his policies even that ecologically sound, catering to the materialistic desires of the bourgeoise? Contributing to overpopulation by encouraging the privileged to breed even more offspring who will consume more than their fair share, leaving nothing for people of color.

I need to get over my classist concepts of beauty and unfulfilled obsessions about failing to live up to my own White Privilege.

My next class is Environmental Journalism. My two areas of expertise.

As the teacher calls roll a certain girl catches my attention.

“Lilly Nguyen.”

I need to ask her out after class and get over the shame of never having been on a date. Plus dating a girl of color will help me feel just a little less shitty about myself. JBW,  just be White, as the incels say. And besides she’s really cute.

The discussion in our class today is whether the issue of overpopulation is politically sensitive in environmental journalism due to the fact that it could lead to xenophobic sentiment.  I don’t want to risk offending Lilly but I have nothing else to say that no one has said and want to be bold and prove myself as a great freethinker instead of just following the heard like I did in high school, which got me nowhere.

The Professor calls on me and I anxiously answer.

“We must not simply look at climate change as a global issue but consider the dramatic increase in the ecological footprint of immigrants who move here from the developing world and go on to buy McMansions and SUVs in the suburbs.”

The entire class gives me a dirty look and the Professor is looking at me like I fucked up big time.

I look over at Lilly, but she’s not upset. She has the look that she respects my courage for standing up for what I believe in. Even if it’s not popular. After class I see Lilly in the hallway. I feel anxious but my extra Klonopin gives me a little courage and I’m desperate to find a girlfriend, so I decide to go for it.

“Hi, Lilly”

“Oh, hi,” she replies.

I put out my hand for a formal handshake, “My name is Max. Max von Mueller.”

Lilly laughs, “I think everyone knows your name by now. You’re notorious.”

“Oh, am I? I respond.”

She says, “but I always liked bad boys,” half joking with the awareness I’m the biggest dweeb.

Cutting to the chase I ask, “would you like to hang out some time?”

Lilly giggles awkwardly. I’m terrified of rejection.

To my surprise she says, “sure why not,” and we exchange contacts. I’m going on my very first date. The beginning of a new life.

Vaporfornia is available for purchase on Lulu publishing. Warning: Not for the easily offended.