Every Game has a Sequel

When Ranier and I were together, one of the things I looked forward to the most was his trip down to San Diego during Memorial Day weekend for a junior dance competition on the Sunday. Even after we broke up, I told myself I was going to go see him in his competition, but now here I was, three days before the competition with no ticket. I figured I was going to see the same set at Sockhop, a showcase on Saturday, June 19th, so I could save myself some money by not going to the competition. But later that night, I found myself not giving enough of a shit to go to Sockhop anymore.

I sat at my desk in my apartment brooding over my Facebook wall-to-wall exchange with Ranier. I had asked him about getting me a presale ticket for twenty-five bucks, which were five bucks cheaper than the non-pre-sale, and Ray wrote back saying, “This weekend is actually the last weekend to get pre-sale. It’s 25 buh starting next week it’s 30. Buh yeah you know Imma be in SD buh I know Sang will be in the bay this weekend so maybe you can ask him.”

I actually forgot and missed the part about him being in San Diego—I was tired; Thursdays were my days of sitting through nearly four back-to-back nonstop one-and-a-half hour classes on four hours of sleep—so I replied, “That’s why I’m asking you. Can you buy ‘em for me and I’ll pay you back? You already owe me like 8 bucks anyway.”

One minute later he replied back, “Buh what I’m tellin’ you is that I’m not gonna be able to pay ‘cause tomorrow we’re getting’ ready and I’m not comin’ back ‘til Monday.”

That was when I decided, fuck this. Fuck Ray for giving me that tone. Fuck this and that. Fuck Sockhop and the Funkbrella teams all suck anyway. I’m not going to pay a fucking five extra bucks because twenty-five is already a fucking waste in the first place.

Looks like I wasn’t going to Sockhop, good riddance. I’d have more fun jacking off on that Saturday night anyway.

With that on my mind, I logged onto xtube.com.



I sat fuming on the trunk of my car, which was parked in the middle of a vast empty parking lot outside the Oracle Arena in Oakland. Ray danced only a few feet away. Ipod in hand, he was choreographing to pass time. We were three hours early for the big event: Ray dancing with the Funksters for the Warriors game half time show.

I could hardly pinpoint what I was mad about. I just knew, I was mad, and that meant I had to do what I always did when I got mad. What a great way to start my spring break; we were only three days in.

Every few minutes, Ray performed a small part of his choreo for me and ask what I thought about it. “It was good,” I’d tell him, but really, I was focusing on texting Trung about the possible reasons for why I was having such a shitty day.

“Are you okay Bay?” Looks like Ray finally noticed.

“I’m fine. I’m just tired.” I told him.

Ray knew those were lies, and he knew that I knew that he knew those were lies. This wasn’t the first time we played this game.

A game. I was a pro at it. Piss off a special, close friend who makes himself vulnerable to you until he is nearly on the brink of tears. I kinda got a kick out of it, and what always sucked was that my conscience would eventually kick in and I’d feel like the lowest shit for the next few days, or at least until I felt like playing the game again.

An awkward three hours passed, and now the two of us sat together in the arena, away from the rest of the Funksters. There was one behind us, but Ray probably texted her to ask her to give us some privacy because he was still trying to figure out why I was giving him the silent treatment.

He pried. I had probably never said “I’m fine” so many times in my life before. He gave up after fifteen minutes, and we continued to watch the game in pure silence. Make him stop caring enough to ask? 50 points. Make him feel like shit on a day when he should be having fun with the rest of his teammates? 100 points.

When half time came, he followed the rest of his teammates down to the basketball court to perform their set. I watched, and that was when my conscience finally started to kick in. Ray definitely made some mistakes, and each one made me wince. Each one made my heart pang a little bit deeper than the one before. What the fuck did I do—this was a performance during a half time show at a Warriors game in front of thousands of people, and I probably just ruined it for Ray.

I remembered the first time I played this game with Ranier. I talked to Trung about how upset I was about it. Ranier and I did manage to settle the problem, but what upset me was the fact that I still hadn’t given up my old tactics, the same ones that clawed away at my relationship with Trung. I was supposed to have matured, grown up, and learned from my past mistakes. But the only thing I learned was that I couldn’t learn.

While Ray and I managed to take care of some surface issues that initially pissed me off that day, we never actually settle the main underlying issue. We talked about it later that night, but we decided that it was best to push it to the back of our minds for now because we really wanted to make this relationship work. And we did enjoy plenty of successes after that night. However, the issue would eventually resurface—two and a half weeks later.