Meeting the family for the first time..not me, someone else, that is
We are visiting my in laws in Atlanta, GA. They live in N. Carolina but also own a town home here in Atlanta. We stop by here and either sleep or drive 3 hours to my in laws home in rural western N. Carolina. This year my hubby convinced his folks to do Thanksgiving in Atlanta. They have close friends here who went to medical school with my in laws. They have 3 sons. 1 is married with 2 kids and a third on the way. The second is not married and the youngest brought his girlfriend to meet everyone for the first time at Thanksgiving dessert. Amidst the cousins, the aunts, the siblings and family friends (us), this girl had to brave the questions, the looks, the sizing up. She was fine and was up to the challenge. After all, she landed a great guy, who she said with pride was a medical doctor. She was recently from Korea and had a accent, the attitude of a Korean immigrant and the sentiments of a transplant. The typical west coast question of how one met is usually the opening to regaling the listeners with the fun tale of how they met and fell in love. She looked quite uncomfortable, turns out because they were set up by a aunt and a mutual friend. I shrug my shoulders…who cares..but perhaps to her it was an indication that she could not meet someone without help. Who knows. I just said charitably that it was the nicest way to meet someone, through mutual contacts. And I meant it.
Her uncomfortableness is just an indication of Korean pride. Koreans are prideful of the weirdest things. I’m too Americanized to feel the same but have enough Korean culture indoctrinated in me to notice.
She was a viola player. Loved music, seemed finicky about it. Was proud a musician who met a doctor, her words, not mine. It took me back to recalling why I never enjoyed hanging out with the foreign exchange students from Korea. They were hung up about a lot of superficial things. The appearance of things, that sort of thing. Perhaps I should care a little more about appearances. My mother in law would love that, I think. I probably don’t care enough. Meh.
This episode took me back a bit to when I first met my mother in law’s friends. Were the claws out that night? Yes, why yes indeed. This group was meowing to the nines. They sized me up, they sized me down. They looked at me as though they were wondering who this girl was that passed the almighty judgment of my future mother in law. Who is it that has made it past the 7 quests. I’m not kidding either. They all heard about the carnage of the girl before me, who was not so lucky. I think they thought I was a pretty girl, as they commented as such then, though not sure of my background and from where I descended from. What was my pedigree, where did I go to school? Was it an ivy league? Were my parents alumni of their ivy league schools in Korea? No? What was my profession? How old was I? How did we meet? It was all there, hanging in the air, so thick I thought to chuckle, thinking wowzers, this crowd is toughhhh ough.
I smiled, faked my demureness. My quiet politeness. Answered questions, nodded my head, felt the back of my head stiffen, which happens anytime I am being fake, and hate the feeling all the more. It’ s not in my blood to enjoy such situations or being fake, though I knew I needed to for all practical reasons..and I tried to not show my lack of eagerness regarding the whole affair. I can come across as smug and smirky if I’m not careful.
Kept quiet..they say even a fool who is silent looks wise.
My mister at the time said it went well. And I thought geez, what ever does it look like when it doesn’t go well. HA!
I was flabbergasted. I said, are you sure? I’m not quite sure what to make of it and for the most part, I make a good first impression. I don’t look like an evil beotch. I think most parents tend to like me, I was always the good friend they didn’t mind their kids playing with. I was never the one that they wanted me to distance their kids from. I swear.
So even though all my friends, who love and adore me and are the best circle of friends a girl could ever have, said to me, pshaw no one can not like you. They’ll all adore you…that all was measured against the words of my hubby who regaled me with the horrid details of the girls past, who didn’t make it beyond the door. So my misgivings were not so much about me, per se, more so about the fact that no one could be good enough for my mister. Of course not. Unless you were a medical doctor whose parents graduated from the ivy leagues of Korea. But it definitely made me realize how wonderful my friends were and how much they got my back. I cherished those words as I mingled with the sharks and claws.
