I was so exhausted getting off work around midnight. It was another busy Friday at the restaurant where we did around 200 some covers and I was really just looking forward to sipping on something tart and refreshing like an aperol spritz. It was also a bartender’s send off party so I had a feeling it was going to get a bit rowdy so I mentally pumped myself a bit but really I was just tired. I mean cooking is fun and fulfilling but holy moly does it take the life out of you as soon as you get off. Yknow those cooking shows where its like “omg there’s only 10 minutes left of the challenge..how is he going to pull it together?!?!” well its like that in the kitchen but only 12 hours in a row, every day.
Anyway, at this time last year I was 27, 6’2 and pretty fit from sweating my butt off at work and drinking too much 3 nights a week. I’m asian and in a very liberal city on the west coast. Asian guys don’t really get a lot of love on the apps, but that didn’t really stop me from being a total fucking slut. I had a lot going for me and I played the industry card whenever I could: cooking is cool! celebrity chefs are all the rage and I was working for one. It worked for me.