On my way home yesterday, I looked down at my phone to see 5 missed calls…more than usual. Let’s see from who?
Thinking that something was wrong or at least urgent, I call her back and as it turns out…
A church friend of hers called her yesterday morning. It seems that they took a family trip to Europe where they met another very nice Korean family.
As they were speaking, the Korean dad mentioned that she has a daughter studying medicine in New York City. For some reason, my mom’s church friend starts to talk about ME…about how I’m in New York, about how awesome I am, and how I’m SINGLE! SINGLE! SINGLE!
Anyways, after coming home from Europe, it seems that the Korean family contacted my mom’s church friend to see if they can get MY information. My Facebook page to be precise.
In a tizzy, church friend called my mom, who then called me FIVE times as if our house had been burglarized.
“Chris! Is it ok if I give them your Facebook page?”
Let me get this straight. So, your friend met a stranger in Europe who happens to have a daughter studying medicine in New York.
And this stranger called your friend…
To ask for my Facebook page?
So that their daughter, who I’ve never even met can become Facebook friends with me?
Mom, you seem pretty excited about this.
“She’s a doctor! You never know!”
You sound a little desperate too.
“NO! I’m not!”
In fact, the only people who sound more desperate than you are this poor girl’s parents.
Do you know how Facebook works? She would have to look me up, friend a complete stranger because her parents told her to.
So, I mean…don’t you think that’s a little…I dunno…SUSPICIOUS?
“What do you mean?”
What do I mean? I mean, what if I get a friend request from someone with this as her profile picture?
“Who knows Chris?? She’s a doctor! Just try!!”
Fine, if she contacts me, I’ll friend her. I doubt she’s going to bother.
Stop being so excited.
Today, I get another call from Mom. I’m thinking to follow up on the phone call yesterday. Instead this…
“So Chris, are you ready to go to China?”
Yeah, I’m getting there.
“Have you heard about the yellow soil in China?”
“It’s a very famous topic! It’s a rare resource in China that’s going to be like oil for Middle East!”
“What if someone asks you about yellow soil when you’re in China and you don’t know what it is?”
Um. I’m sure it won’t be a big deal.
Mom, is something on your mind?
Are you sure?
“Today, a man came to my store and told me he has a daughter”
“She’s in New York! She’s in law school!!”
“And he said she’s interested in internship at UN. Maybe you can email her and help her?”
Mom, I’m not going to email a complete stranger and offer her help with an internship.
“Everyone says she’s very beautiful, AND she’s in law school!”
Ok, what’s going on?
“What do you mean?”
This is the second time in two days you’ve been trying to set me up with someone.
“When I visit you, you seem lonely.”
And there it is folks. She came to visit me two weeks ago, and satisfied with my health, my finances, my new apartment, she left determined to find me a suitable girl.
Doctor…Lawyer. I’m sensing a pattern. Apparently, I’m in need of a nice girl who will provide me with stability and financial security. (Which reveals exactly what about her expectations of me?)
But has it come to this? I wonder aloud with a palpable sense of disappointment.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I know a lot of good guys and good girls who’ve been set up successfully through their parents. But I think what nobody quite understands about me is the fact that the story is nearly as important as the girl.
In other words, when people inevitably ask…so how’d you two meet?
A piece of me would die every time I said, “Oh, it’s a funny story actually. We met online!”
“OH! It’s a funny story. My mom set us up.”
That is the maddening quirk people have to understand about me. When I travel to a new country, I’m more excited about the new lapel pin I get to collect every time I set foot in a new country.
I’m more excited about receiving a new Playbill than I am about the Broadway show I’m about to watch.
The girl, as great as I hope she will be, has to be packaged with a chance, quippy encounter full of wit and romance. Maybe there’s a little rain, where we both forget our umbrellas.
Or she trips and I catch her.
Or she has a horrible first impression of me only to find out that I’m not such a bad guy.
Or maybe we split a cheesecake.
There will be serendipity or there will be no love.
If the story sucks I’d rather be single. At least singleness brings with it a well-spring of anecdotes, relatable miseries, and blog posts. What, praytell, would happen to my creativity if I actually found someone to love?
Mom, I’ll be fine.
“Are you sure?”
Yes. I’m happy.
“Ok, that’s all that matters. Good night”
“Her email is…”