My name is Dionisio but everyone calls me Dio. My parents came to California from the Cordillera region of the Philippines in the 1970s. I've only been there once—for a cousin's wedding—and only sort of understand my parents' language, Ilokano.
I grew up with the typical embarrassments of the children of immigrants, like the time I went to the hardware store with my dad. He went up to the front and asked in his loud, clear and heavily accented voice, "Hi guys, where do you keep the jungle bolos?" This created confusion until they figured out he wanted a machete to clear out the overgrowth in our back yard. I'm proud of my parents now but as a kid, being different didn't exactly boost my social confidence.
Now that I'm grown, I'm strong and fit from sports and working out and people say I have a handsome face. I was a good student in high school and got into UCLA. I'm double-majoring in Political Science and Art and Design. I'm planning to become an architect: I'd like to revolutionize the way people live. But this story isn't about that.
Despite my good looks and buff build, I'm only 5' 5" and a lot of college women are only interested in tall guys. Fortunately, there are a lot of Asian women at UCLA and most of them are shorter and smaller than I am. They tend to be more open minded about men's height. I've been able to hook up on a fairly regular basis but haven't really clicked with anyone and haven't had a regular girl friend. But during my junior year, my romantic life took a series of unexpected turns for the better.
My Poly-Sci major requires a course on social theory that kicks everyone's ass. There wasn't that much more reading than a typical UC social science course, which is heavy enough, but most of it seemed like it was written in another language with undecipherable phrases such as "structured structures predisposed to function as structuring structures."
But the silver lining was Daniella. She was Filipina with golden brown skin like mine, and she couldn't have been more than five feet tall and about 90 pounds: all perfectly proportioned. She had clear skin, long black silky hair and a nice little ass and rounded breasts. She usually wore sleeveless sun dresses and platform sandals that showed off her glowing skin from her pretty face down to her toes, always painted with multiple colors of nail polish. I took all of this in by studying her reflection in the window next to her so I wouldn't appear to be staring at her. All through class I let my eyes flicker back and forth between this double vision of Daniella in the flesh, and Daniella reflected in the glass of the window. I was smitten.
I asked her if she wanted to get together to try to make sense of our readings. She seemed a little surprised, then agreed, noting that ordinary study habits probably weren't going to cut it in this course. Our first meeting, at a café, was strictly business. We were trying to crack the code of Pierre Bourdieu's Outline of a Theory of Practice without much success. Daniella suggested that we continue on Saturday afternoon after consulting some of the secondary literature in the library. Of course I agreed and did my share of the research, more to appear in a good light to Daniella than to be a super student.
On Saturday, she dressed down, wearing yoga pants and a tank top, but she looked hotter than ever in the form fitting clothes which revealed a slice of her slim brown midriff. I wanted to wrap my hands around her waist but kept it professional. We were actually starting to get what Bourdieu was driving at, at least I thought we were. It was still heavy going, but we seemed to pull out a few coherent concepts.
I asked Daniella what she had planned for the weekend.
"Nothing much, tonight I'll probably just watch a movie with my room mate, what about you?" she replied.
"Exactly the same!" I laughed, "pretty boring, huh?"
"Well," she began, "if you don't have a better offer, you and your roommate could join us. I'll make popcorn if you bring something to drink."
"Sound great," I said, trying not to betray my inner state of excitement. "What do you like to drink, soda, beer, wine?"
"How about some white wine?" Daniella suggested, "I'm not a big drinker but I'm ready to relax after all this brain-twisting theory."
"You got it," I replied. Now that I was 21 I felt pretty cool to be able to pick up a bottle without an intermediary.
When I got back to my tiny shared apartment, there was a note from my roommate, Matt, letting me know he had won tickets to a concert and wouldn't be back until late. I liked Matt just fine but didn't feel too heart-broken that I would be the only guy watching movies with Daniella tonight.
After killing some time, eating a sandwich, taking a shower and changing into nicer clothes, I hopped on my bike and made a trip to the liquor store then headed over to Daniella's dorm, arriving right on time at 8:00.
