Heartsick in Hanoi: Vietnam’s Missed Connections - The Durian - Hanoi's Smelliest News


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Heartsick in Hanoi: Vietnam’s Missed Connections

For those unfamiliar with Missed Connections or Rush-hour Crush, The Durian brings you the very finest trashy human interest stories that in no way prey on the crushing isolation that we all endure collectively throughout the course of our lonesome entombment in mortal flesh and certainly doesn’t perpetuate the corporate Disney model of romance that insists on such bum-guffery as a “soulmate.”

Someone caught your eye and won’t give it back? Keep bumping into someone you’d like to bump into more of? Not prepared for a restraining order after being shot out of a tree by your love crush’s teenage son?

Now’s your chance to let that special someone know that the mere fleeting image of them is the only thing that hold you back from plummeting into the vast gaping void that exists within your soul – this week our readers reach out through the pages of the internet in the utterly futile pursuit of love in Hanoi.

To the glitter-soaked Birdcage beauty
You were outside Birdcage last Friday (or Saturday?) and we chatted for hours after you scared off all the Grab drivers with threats of physical violence and promptly vomited down yourself. I feel as though, under that great overhanging firmament twinkling with long-dead stars, we shared a moment, but when the ketamine wore off I realised I hadn’t got your name, number or my phone. Hit me up on here if you wanna wake ‘n’ bake someday.

Shit Driver, Great European Ass
I was entirely covered in a floral print ninja raincoat, but you might remember me as the woman you nearly side-swiped on Hoàng Hoa Thám. I don’t know exactly what you slurred at me, but it sounded so good in your accent – the succulent tang of vodka on your hot masculine breath made me want to crash into you all over again. Those biceps jutting out from the sweat-stained Vietnamese flag singlet should be able to handle a Yamaha Nouvo – or maybe something with a bit more thrust! Let me know if you want to ride with me and get some lessons.

Despair at Domestic Arrivals
We met in the visa-on-arrivals queue at Nội Bài Airport on Tuesday night, where our moment together was shattered by Vietnamese bureaucracy. You were the sun-burnt blonde with two backpacks and a suspiciously stained travel pillow, I was the guitar-toting Canadian who helped explain how visas work to your drunk friend. I hoped I would find you in the Old Quarter, but somehow your unique appearance and lifestyle choices don’t seem to stand out here. Meet me at Hanoi Backpacker Hostel for free beer tonight, I’ll be wearing this hilarious banana shirt that I bought today – just $5! – and a baseball cap of some odious description.

Language Teacher of Love
You are my TA and therefore you should love me. I have made all the right moves – I chose to be white, genetically aimed for an impressive height and weight combo and while my ambitions and opportunities in England are limited, I am despicably rich here in Hanoi. Every evening and weekend I stare lustily at you while small children try to learn English all around us, perhaps we have a connection that will last forever? Or at least until I leave Vietnam next year to do an MBA or something.

By all means send all of your Heartsick in Hanoi messages to durianoi!@theduriannews.com and we absolutely won’t cry with laughter at the pathetic tenderness with which you approach such a brutal, soul-eviscerating emotional construct like love. We will probably try to pass it on to our readers though, maybe.

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