3 orders of meokgeolli, 2 beers, and 1 half-finished bottle of wine. So much alcohol in your system that you can barely see straight, much less walk it (though I guess that's not really necessary when he's already guiding you into a taxi headed back to your apartment, back to your bed). He seems charming, probably because you can only understand half of what he's saying, and all that awkwardness you shared before has been pissed away (along with most of the water that was stored in your body).
One night stands aren't included in your usual repertoire of vices, but neither are effeminate music producers-slash-singers-slash-composers. And besides, you only live once (so what the hell).
This is the beginning of a love story. (Or as close as you're going to get.)