I am not the most gifted guitar player in the world.
Learning to play is proving to be a lot like learning other things in my life: languages, games, how to be in a relationship… I’m great at studying the topic and getting a solid grasp of the theory, but suffer miserably when it comes to putting it into practice. Playing the guitar is much like speaking Korean, where I’m concerned, in that I can do it really well when I’m practicing all alone at home where no one can hear me – but as soon as there’s someone there listening to me and expecting me to have something to show for all my efforts, it sounds like it might be my very first attempt.
The fact that I have a rapidly-growing crush on my teacher is really not helping matters.
It only goes to show how Koreanised I’ve become, when the man who can now reduce me to blushes and sweaty palms is not a big, burly fella with long hair, but a sweet, sensitive, delicate Korean boy with neatly manicured fingernails and salon-coiffed hair, who wears little waistcoats and pink sparkly neckties and thinks that’s “casual”. He looks like a k-pop boy band member, for crying out loud. But regardless of what that says about my changed tastes, it’s making guitar lessons both exhilarating and exhausting. As far as the former goes, I’d forgotten what it felt like to have a crush on someone. The little flip of your stomach when your eyes meet; the quickened pulse when your hands touch; the wondering whether that glance was just the tiniest bit flirtatious. But yes, exhausting. I’m glad I no longer do this crush thing on a regular basis, because I really don’t have the energy any more for all the nervous twitterpation.
A guitar teacher will, of course, hold your hand occasionally throughout a lesson. At least, he will if his student is yours truly. My fingers have some stubbornness about them, often refusing to press down on the correct strings when things get complicated, and Seonsengnim (Teacher) patiently holds them in the right place and moves them for me until I get the hang of it. Unfortunately this is not at all helpful when my reaction to Seonsengnim holding my hand is to blush furiously and lose all concentration on the task at hand. Eventually I inevitably descend into nervous giggles. Coupled with my inability to communicate with him in Korean, I’m pretty sure this makes me look like a gibbering fool of very little brain. His patience only makes him more desirable, of course, and so we have settled into a routine of me going in and behaving like a giggly schoolgirl, and him suppressing sexy smiles and persevering with the lesson, rewarding me with “Chal haseyo”s (“well done”s) and getting a deepening red blush in return.
The whole thing is ridiculous. Every week, I come away feeling like I’m 12 years old again. Hopefully it passes soon and normality can be restored. However, I must admit – happy as I am being single, and reluctant/scared/unwilling as I am to ever change that status again, having a schoolgirl crush is sort of fun. It’s nice to be reminded of that, I suppose. ;)