Sorry about the lack of updates. I’ve been mildly depressed, mostly about work which is a total drag these days. In just the last week alone, I’ve cried either at work, home, in my car or in various social settings, at least 8-9 times. Being depressed makes me not want to do anything except shop online and EAT, which I can’t even do for the next few weeks because I’m dieting for my sister’s wedding. I’m going HAM, full on guerilla style shocking my body into modelesque submission so my body and I are pretty miserable right now. *currently dreaming of Brazilian cheese bread*
Despite the odds being stacked against us, Bebeface and I have been making strides – big strides, some would say. In September, he met my parents, and the very next day, I met his parents. We didn’t exactly plan for it to all happen during the same weekend. It just turned out that way.
I can’t think of a single friend who didn’t respond to the news that Bebeface and I were meeting each others’ parents with, “ooooh” or “wowww” or “woah big step” or something of the sort. But the truth is, I didn’t and still don’t think it was a big deal. My last relationship has completely changed the way I view the meeting-the-parents stage of a relationship. I used to think it signaled to your parents, “this is who I plan to marry, what do you think?” Now, I view it as, “mom and dad, this is who I’m thinking I could possibly marry, what do you think?” It’s also another barometer by which to determine whether this person is right for you, making it a necessary part of the courtship process. You can learn so much about your significant other and what you’re getting yourself into by: (1) meeting the people that raised him/her, (2) by observing how he/she treats his parents and vice versa, and (3) by how he/she treats you when placed under somewhat stressful circumstances.
In the case of my ex, everything was peachy keen until the nightmare that was our meeting with his parents, where I learned that they are arrogant, superficial, and uncompromising people whom I would never want to call my in-laws. As a result of that meeting, I also learned how beholden my ex is to his parents and that he lacks a backbone. His parents wanted me to do stuff that would be against my religious beliefs, and because I stood up for myself, they threatened to disown my ex, their first-born son, if we didn’t break up. We’re obviously not together anymore, so you can guess how my ex responded to that unfortunate ultimatum.
For these reasons, my dating philosophy (and my ticking bio-clock) now requires that the parental meeting (both sides) happens sooner rather than later, so that there aren’t any surprises. Potential deal-breaking issues need to be exposed as early as possible. So one day, I asked Bebeface if he’d be willing to meet my parents, and he said sure, without hesitation. I think the idea seemed natural to him because he knew how family-oriented I am, as I talk about and see my parents often. The idea of introducing me to his parents had been on his mind too because he would mention every now and then that his parents would ask when they could meet me. Each time he said that, I would say, “after you meet mine.” Ladies first.
In the week prior to the meeting, there were numerous phone calls from my mom wanting to talk about where we should meet, or what she should cook. My parents didn’t know if it was best to invite him over to their home or meet at a restaurant, which would be neutral. Ultimately, they wanted what would be most comfortable for him and after flip-flopping between meeting at a restaurant and their home several times, we decided that we’d come over to their house and then go to a nearby restaurant from there.
Bebeface picked me up from my apartment on Saturday. He wasn’t wearing the white shirt he’d picked out to wear. Instead, he was in a dark blue shirt. He said that he made a last minute switch because the tattoo on his back showed through the shirt. We had agreed he shouldn’t wear a short sleeve shirt in case his arm tattoo peeked out from below his sleeve, but I hadn’t even thought about the ink on his back. It wouldn’t have been obvious because under shirts, it just looks like a dark shadow, but I appreciated that he had the foresight to think of it and that he wanted to err on the side of caution.
I’ve never really seen Bebeface act nervous or anxious. When I first asked him if he was open to meeting my parents, he took it in stride and said yes without hesitation. Even in the days before the meeting, he seemed calm and relaxed. The only thing he seemed worried about was what to bring my parents. But now, in the car, he seemed slightly anxious. It made me a little happy inside because he should be nervous, you know? When a guy is too chill around parents he’s meeting for the first time, it’s a bad sign. To this day, my parents talk about how overly relaxed and confident Squandog was during their first meeting. Quick flashback – when my parents and I got to the restaurant where Squandog was waiting for us, my dad apologized that we were a little late. He asked if Squandog had been waiting long, and Squandog’s first words to my parents were, “yes, only about an hour.” Word to the wise – do not employ sarcasm when meeting one’s Korean parents for the first time, no matter how Americanized they are. Even though my dad is Americanized enough to discern sarcasm, it doesn’t mean he appreciates it, especially from his daughter’s boyfriend. Squandog only seemed to get more relaxed throughout the lunch. My parents also remember how much he yawned, with an uncovered mouth and outstretched arms, during the meal they treated him to.
Bebeface asked if there was a Korean market on the way to my parents’ house. He’d picked up a bottle of my dad’s favorite wine from a specialty shop near his place, but he wanted to get some Korean rice cakes for my parents because Chuseok (Korean Thanksgiving) was the next day. I had no idea that it was Chuseok because my family doesn’t celebrate Chuseok. I considered telling him it was unnecessary, which it was because my parents aren’t high maintenance like that, but I didn’t want to him to get the idea that he doesn’t need to make an effort or that too much effort is a bad thing. Plus, I didn’t want to discourage him from doing sweet things for my parents in the future.
The Korean rice cakes at the market looked stale, so he decided to get my parents a box of Korean pears. In the Korean culture, you always bring a gift when you’re invited to someone’s home, and it doesn’t get much more classic than a box of pears. While we were standing in line, I grabbed a huge bag of Korean popped corn that I know my dad likes. Anything to help Bebeface get in the circle of trust, you know? Carbs are the way to my dad’s heart.
Cool factoid about the shopping plaza that the market is at – Bebeface and I used to hang out separately at the same plaza when we were younger. There’s an ArtBox (Korean stationary store), a Karaoke studio, and various restaurants there that were popular places to hang out at if you grew up in that area. He actually used to be a cashier at the market when he was in high school, and I took SAT classes (and later taught) at a tutoring center in the plaza. We probable crossed paths at some point before ending up at the same college later.
As we were getting closer to my parents’ house, Bebeface’s hand started to feel a little clammy, which I thought was cute. He wasn’t the only one who was anxious because when we pulled up in front of my parents’ house, I saw the telltale signs of two eager beaver parents anticipating the arrival of their oldest daughter and their potential future son-in-law – the living room blinds were swaying to and fro and I detected the sudden movement of two shadowy figures behind the blinds. My dad opened the door as we were walking up the pathway to the door. He don’t know how to play it cool haha.
The initial greeting was kind of a blur, but I remember that there was a lot of English being spoken. I had told my parents before that they could speak in Korean to Bebeface, and in fact, I urged them to because it would lend an air of formality to the situation, which I wanted. I spoke in Korean to encourage everyone to converse in our mother language, but my parents defaulted to English because my sister’s fiancé is white. Because my dad speaks perfect English, I guess Bebeface just assumed English was the way to go, especially since my parents were speaking in English.
We didn’t have much time to chit chat because we had dinner reservations. During the short car ride, Bebeface and my dad talked about some features of my dad’s new car that my dad couldn’t figure out. Bebeface has an impressive wealth of knowledge about cars. He wasn’t sure about something, so he pulled out his phone and googled it to help my dad. One of the things I appreciate about him is that when it comes to people he cares about, he takes on their issues as if they’re his own to come up with solutions. He did this when I got molested by a male massage therapist, and most recently, he did research to help my dad come up with a ways to catch a ding-dong ditcher.
I was curious to see whether he’d act differently with me in front of my parents, but we held hands like normal and he was as affectionate as usual.
The restaurant was really packed and noisy, which made it difficult to hear each other. It wasn’t even that great eating outside on the patio because overall, the vibe was not as chill as the last time my family had been to the restaurant.
I don’t know whether the overall chaos discouraged us from talking much or not, but there were definitely periods of silence at our table. I won’t go as far as calling the silences awkward, because to some extent, I kind of expected it. I noticed that when Bebeface was talking, there was no doubt that my mom was very interested in everything he was saying because she would lean forward, almost craning her neck, and hanging onto every word with a warm, encouraging expression on her face. However, my dad would often avoid making direct eye contact with him. That’s not to say he wasn’t interested because I could tell he was listening very intently, even when he was looking around the restaurant or at the very, very, interesting white tablecloth. I think they just represent different male/female patterns in communication. It was interesting to observe because my dad is not usually like that.
When the check came, Bebeface looked at me and then hesitantly offered to get the bill, but my dad took the check and said it was on him. I wish Bebeface would have been more assertive and taken the check before my dad did, but I’m ok with the fact that he at least offered.
Back at the crib, my dad broke open the bottle of wine Bebeface brought, and my mom cut fruit and cheesecake for us. I noticed for the first time that my parents had bought a bouquet of roses for the occasion (of course from their heaven on earth – Costco). I was touched. My parents have always gone out of their way to make a good impression on my boyfriends, even though it has not always been reciprocated.
Because my parents hadn’t gotten a chance to ask Bebeface anything serious at dinner, we all knew that the fruit and cheesecake were intended to be the social lubricant for the real talk coming up ahead.
There wasn’t any real lead-in to the real talk. My dad just sort of prefaced his words with, “Sorry if I seem blunt,” and proceeded to ask us what our status was, whether we were just “friends,” or more, and whether we were committed to each other. It was slightly disingenuous because my parents already knew what we were, but I can understand that they wanted to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.
My dad also told us that if we’re sure about each other, we should hurry things along (e.g., get married). Interestingly, in the same breath, he also said that if there are big issues that we can’t resolve, we should cut things off since both of us are in our mid-thirties and shouldn’t waste time. He was talking specifically about me of course, but that was generous of my dad to include Bebeface lol. When I was younger, I would have outwardly groaned and said “Daaaaad,” to imply that he should lay off, but now that I’m older and wiser, I totally support my dad going there. He had legitimate concerns and good advice.
Babyface took this all in stride, never once floundering for the “perfect” answer. He basically said that yes, we’re committed, that he cares about me deeply and that we’re moving forward with marriage in mind. His delivery was earnest and sincere. I could tell my dad was warming up to him by the minute. My dad can spot a phony from a mile away.
I really didn’t do much talking during this part. Instead, I found myself just listening intently to this man-to-man discussion and looking at my dad, then to Bebeface, and back and forth like I was at a tennis match. My mom’s eyes were glued on Bebeface.
The fact that Bebeface isn’t Christian was the elephant in the room, until my dad finally broached the topic. He basically told Bebeface that ideally I’d be in a relationship where I can serve and worship God together with my husband, but that he doesn’t want me to be in a relationship where I’m prevented or discouraged from practicing my faith. They talked about where Bebeface stands, particularly with regard to his difficulty accepting the fact that the Bible is the living word of God. I jumped in here and there, to try to clarify the issues as Bebeface saw them. Bebeface was definitely refraining from sharing exactly how he feels about Christianity in order to avoid offending my dad.
I honestly can’t remember too much of the conversation because I was just in awe at how much spiritual maturity and wisdom my dad was conveying in discussing faith with a non-believer. All my life, I’ve only heard my parents discuss religion with fellow Christians. I respect and admire that my dad wasn’t dogmatic, pushy, or openly judgmental. It kind of validated my long-standing belief that my dad should go into teaching or something like that. He invited Bebeface to come over again so they could discuss any questions he had about Christianity in more detail.
Though nothing was stated definitively, I think the understanding that emerged from our talk was that my parents are ok with the fact that he’s not a Christian as long as he’s open-minded about it and he won’t stand in the way of my relationship with God, which I don’t feel he’s ever done. I wouldn’t say he’s helping me grow, but he does encourage me to go to church and small group and actively engages me in dialogue about sermons and topics discussed during small group.
My dad’s well-intended interrogation didn’t faze Bebeface, who was comfortable enough to maintain physical contact with me in some form at all times, whether it was putting his hand on my back, on my leg, or holding my hand. I felt a little shy about it since we were in front of my parents and sometimes I wonder whether they think I’m asexual, but I didn’t discourage it because I knew it was his way of communicating how he feels about me.
While we were getting up to leave, I overheard my dad telling Bebeface at least twice that he was happy he got to meet him. Sometimes, it’s hard to read my dad. I think he was still wary of whether Bebeface is a good match for me as a husband especially with respect to whether Bebeface can support and provide for me, but I got the sense that he liked Bebeface as a person.
Overall, the talk went pretty well, except for that moment when everyone noticed the flakes (of the dead skin variety) that were collecting around my bare feet. Have you guys heard of Baby Foot? It’s hands down the greatest beauty product I have ever used. It’s not a game changer; it’s a life changer. You soak your feet in these plastic disposable booties for 45 minutes and 7-10 days later, you have feet as soft, smooth, and callous-free as a baby’s. It’s totally painless and works a million times better than those medieval cheese graterish devices I used to use. There’s a small catch – after the first few days (during which absolutely nothing happens and you wonder whether you just wasted $20), your feet will magically begin to peel and shed skin like a molting snake, or as I like to think of it, a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. The shedding is weirdly fascinating, but it’s incessant and you leave “droppings” everywhere. I’m not talking cute little flakes resembling dandruff. I’m talking steaks of skin so huge, you wonder how the process could possibly be so pain-free.
Anyway, back to my story. I had applied Baby Foot about a week before this meeting. I like to document the process because I’m weird like that, so I took these pics right after I got out of the shower when the dead skin was nice and moist (moist is the weirdest word ever):
Threw up in your mouth a little bit, did ya? I definitely did when I first googled pics of Baby Foot. But now that I’ve done it a few times on myself, I’m totally desensitized. Yes, that’s my actual foot. Trust, my feet weren’t even that dry or crusty before, so don’t you judge me. It doesn’t matter how good your feet look. You too will achieve similar shedding upon proper usage. At least I was courteous enough to make those pics small, alright?
It might seem ballsy of me to have not worn socks for this meeting, but the truth is, that I just completely forgot to take prophylactic measures to avoid people seeing the science experiment going on down there. The shedding is sort of hidden because it happens mostly on the bottom of your feet, but I must have been rubbing my feet together (thereby accelerating the natural molting process), because there was a pile of skin steaks accumulating on the floor. On my parents’ hardwood floors. Dark, hardwood floors. This was kindly pointed out to me by my dad. When all three pairs of eyes went straight to my feet, there was nothing I could do to shield my feet (and spare my loved ones’ eyes) except to instinctively curl my toes in shame, which didn’t help the situation.
I have since forgiven my father, whose outing of me pretty much constitutes a betrayal of sorts in my book.
After the meeting, Bebeface was anxious about what my parents thought about him. He asked me to let him know after I debriefed with them later. He felt that my mom liked him, but he couldn’t tell with my dad. I told him that my dad wouldn’t have said he enjoyed meeting him – twice – unless that had really been the case.
Indeed, my parents liked him. They told me that he seemed nice and smart. My dad kept emphasizing the smart part. Of course, I expected them to get that impression of him because he is Wiki. He knows a lot about everything, which comes out when you talk to him. It’s not in like a know-it-all way (at least not intentionally). It’s just that he can’t hide the nerdiness. Ultimately, what’s more important to my parents than intelligence is whether a guy treats me well and can take care of me. I think they could tell he treats me well, but the question on their mind – and on my mind still – is whether he can take care of me. That’s the big question mark.
My dad said Bebeface seems very Americanized and that my sister’s white fiancé, LipCurl, seems more Korean than him! According to my dad, when he opened the door and greeted us, Bebeface said something like, “you speak English so well!” My dad wasn’t offended, but he was definitely surprised by such forward directness, which is a trait more characteristic of Caucasians. Believe you me, Koreans can be blunt and rude AF (especially older Korean women), but in these kinds of settings, they’re more demure (even guys) and reserved. They play it safe, especially when meeting their significant others’ parents for the first time.
I would think my dad’s fluency in English would be more remarkable to Caucasians than to Koreans, but I don’t even think LipCurl has ever said anything like that to my dad. At the end of the day, it wasn’t a big deal to my dad, so it’s not to me. It’s definitely interesting that my dad picked up on it though, because Bebeface is pretty Americanized. And I totally agree that LipCurl is more Koreanized in some ways. He even eats kimchi. Bebeface does not.
I told Bebeface that my parents enjoyed meeting him and got a good impression of him. He seemed relieved. As anxious as he’d been about what my parents would think of him, he was more nervous about our meeting with his parents – not because of what they would think of me, but because of what I might think of them. He had good reason to be nervous, as his parents are sort of atypical – a fact I confirmed when I met them the next day.
To be continued…
dating kind of sucks 