Rubbish Goodbyes

February was “goodbye” month in Korea, or so it seemed; the amount of goodbyes I had to make seemed to increase by the day. And I hated it. Why? Because I am rubbish, positively pathetic, at goodbyes. That’s right: I’m terrible at hellos and rubbish at goodbyes. But somewhere in the middle I’m great. Honest.

Proof that I am rubbish: before I came to Korea I was on the bus about to start my last shift at Frenchay Hospital, and a girl got on who was a friend of friends and we’d had a drunken fumble once, so as you can imagine it was a rather awkward conversation; and then she asked when I was leaving the country and I said: “Next week.”

"Oh, wow,” she said. “Well - have an amazing time.”

We reached my stop. I stood up. “You too,” I said, slightly confused because I was the only one getting off the bus and that meant everyone was staring at me. “Er, see you around!” and because that was a blatant lie – I highly doubt I will ever see her again – I decided to hug her goodbye. You ever tried to hug someone sitting down when you’re standing? It doesn’t work. Especially when the bus has just rolled to a stop. To help me, she rose slightly out of her seat, hugging back, and her forehead hit my chin on the way up, and we rocked slightly cause of the motion of the bus and it was all rather awkward and awful and I suddenly heard the cruel, cutting peels of laughter coming from two girls at the back of the bus mocking our ridiculous display.

Last month I went to say goodbye to Regina, my ex- co-teacher at Wando Boys Middle School. She’s a great person, an amazing teacher, and I really don’t have enough good words to say about her. February in Korea means the end of the school year, and at that time lots of familiar faces get transfers and fuck off into oblivion, never to cross paths with you again. Anyway, she’s off to another province and I went to say goodbye. I’d ran up the hill to the school to catch her before she left. It was windy. The wind made my eyes watery. So I spent most of our goodbye conversation looking like I was going to cry, which was incredibly frustrating because I wasn’t going to cry, then I wanted to cry because I thought: oh no, she thinks I’m going to cry like a little baby. How embarrassing. Life is so unfair. Curse you, bitter sea wind! It took five minutes for my eyes to dry out. She offered me a firm handshake, and I thought: no, we’ve moved passed the formalities of a handshake. We can do a hug. So I confidently said “Oh, just give me a hug!” and reached in for one, but she suddenly retreated, putting her hands up and saying “No, no, no, I’m sorry.” It was awful. I hung there in suspension, arms outstretched, unhuggable. It’s as bad as having a high-five left hanging. Worse, everyone in the office was staring at me. So as an addendum to last time’s anti-handshake blog let me add that hugging is every bit as woeful and humiliating.

By this point I just wanted to leave but – hey ho! – there’s someone else I have to say goodbye to. Another ex-co-teacher, smiling awkwardly behind Regina, waiting for me to leave. “Well,” I said, extending my hand. “Goodbye. I, er, hope to see you again.”

"Yes,” she said, not at all convincingly.

There are people in the world, confident sorts, who know how to say goodbye. You know the type: they strut around like they made up the rules; they were telling witty anecdotes and travelling the world whilst we were in the bathroom wiping our asses and waiting for the smell to dissipate. They view us stuttering, confused imbeciles with a mixture of pity and fascination. When they say goodbye they mean it. They say things like: “Have a nice life” without a second thought, whilst we uselessly tiptoe around. And because I hate the thought of saying goodbye forever, even if it’s to someone I don’t even like, I normally struggle to find some reason why we would meet again, so I mumbled something about coming back to Korea in the future for vacation, or something, and perhaps we should meet for a coffee, or something. “Do you have my number?” I asked, tapping the cell in my pocket.

There was a long pause. Then she said: “Yes.”

She didn't have it. I knew that as a fact.

In conclusion: goodbyes suck and people are jerks.