family affair parte dos

Currently listening to: Save Your Soul – Jewel

Who will save your souls?
When it comes to the flowers now
Who will save your souls?
After all those lies that you told, boy
Now, who will save your souls?
If you won’t save your own?

When I got home from work, my mom eagerly announced that she had a new prospect for me. I inwardly groaned—not this again. I sighed loudly, hoping she’d get the hint.

“Okay,” I said, giving her a tired look, “who is he and what’s he like?”

She replied in Korean, telling me his name was Peter and that he worked at a hospital in Los Angeles. Then she asked if she could give my phone number to the middle person—not my great aunt this time—to pass along to him. I shrugged and walked away.

The next day, while I was at work, Peter called. I politely asked if I could return his call after my shift, and he agreed. When I called him back later that evening, he was… extremely chatty. He talked non-stop, to the point where I couldn’t get a word in. Not once during the 15-minute conversation did he ask me anything about myself. Instead, he complained about his job, how burnt out he was, and how he still had student loans to pay off.

My initial thought was, “What a fucking bitch.” Of course, I didn’t say that aloud because, well, I have manners. Instead, I told him I had to take a shower—I’d just finished a longer than necessary shift at the hospital and, you know, I’m hygienic. He said he’d call me later, and I reluctantly agreed.

An hour later, he called back, and once again, he immediately launched into complain mode. I could feel the last remnants of my social battery draining rapidly. After 30 minutes, I was completely spent and told him I was going to bed. He laughed and said, “What’s up with that? You’re like a grandma.” I forced a half-hearted laugh and mumbled something about not sleeping well the night before.

The next day, I woke up to over 40 texts from Peter. At least 39 of them were complaints or negative commentary about his day.  The one non-negative text was when he asked me about when we should go out on a date. It was overwhelming. I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine myself, but I definitely don’t want to date someone who’s a full-on Negative Nancy.  I am naturally drawn to positive and adventurous people.  Plus, his tendency to dominate every conversation—talking 99% of the time like he loved the sound of his own voice—was unbearable.

Sure, he was Korean, 6 feet tall, a UCLA graduate, and came from “good stock,” but none of that mattered. I told my mom that Peter wasn’t a good fit and started responding less and less to his calls and texts until he eventually stopped reaching out.

My mom wasn’t happy about the outcome, but I was secretly relieved. I hoped this would finally put an end to her 소개팅 (blind date/matchmaking) attempts with random Korean guys. I wanted to find someone in my own time, on my own terms, without her interference. But of course, she didn’t care—and she definitely didn’t stop.  FML.