The Date
Darthscout has befriended a tailor from a shop downtown, a kindly Korean gent in his late 50s, who has practically taken up S as a surrogate son. He took us out to dinner Monday night, because what is more fun than matchmaking?
Epic story follows.
Mr Tailor met us at his shop at closing time. He got us a taxi to the beach, presented us with fireworks to light, and told me all sorts of endearing things about S. Starting with how very, very lonely he has been all year.
Then came supper at an upscale restaurant facing the beach. Mr Tailor ordered a massive and expensive meal for us to share, romantically. He checked with us at least 5 times that we like share food, we order share, eat together. I had heard him say at one point 'bulgogi' which is beef, so I was perfectly happy to share. Except that tragically he meant SHELL. It was a huge plate of live shellfish, fresh as it comes, to be cooked at our table.
Romantically. As a gift to his good young friend.
Every shred of seafood I have EVER eaten tasted like rancid tidal effluent. I don't see how anyone can like the stuff; in fact I question the idea that anything that makes your stomach twitch on contact is 'food'. Every time I am told condescendingly that I just haven't tried seafood done RIGHT (because how could I possibly dislike something so delicious?), I take a deep breath, remind myself that maybe my tastes have changed since last I choked down something vile cloaked in not-enough-sauces, and spare them the graphic description of exactly what organs of which ecological niche they are savoring.
I ate 1 scallop, 2 sea snails, a shrimp, and parts of a huge I-don't-know-what, all as slowly and politely as I could without bursting into hysterics.
Eat more, you skinny! Like chopstick! You in Korea today, try everything! You never find this anywhere else!
There were also roasted silkworms on the table (a South Asian delicacy), and the idea that I might be charmingly force-fed those before he would possibly ask the evening's performers to invite me onstage to sing a song... it was my own private hell.
After the atrocities, when I wanted nothing more than to brush my teeth out and find a warm, dark place to shiver, we adjourned to the sky lounge for further drinks and admirations of the scenic, romantic coast. Which I will admit was very pretty. The steel factory that takes up most of that view lights its smokestacks and conveyor belts with decorative rainbow LEDs after dark.
This was the cue to further extol S's finer qualities.
*feral grin*
Mr Tailor has known S for 8 months now. S often stops by the shop to chat, and has cooked for Mr Tailor and his wife. He is teaching S traditional Korean table manners. S is a very special boy. Mr Tailor has met hundreds of foreign English teachers, hundreds of thousands of people the world over, never anyone like S. He is a good boy. A perfect gentleman with a pure heart and no evil in him anywhere. Mr Tailor has been watching him for 8 months - no badness in him. He will make a good husband. But he doesn't fit in. Lonely, he has been, so very lonely. Mr Tailor is so glad that I have come to visit him. I must be very good friend! Maybe before I leave I will be more than a friend? Next year Mr Tailor will be visiting family near Los Angeles, maybe he can come to wedding!
::toasts to our love, hopefully::
::finds out I am the same age as his absent son::
S is very young, lacks experience, but I can teach him. I can train him to be the sort of man I want. He will learn fast, he is a smart boy! I can shape him to be anything I need. That is how good marriages work! Mr Tailor has been married now 37 years, and his wife trained him to be totally different man.
S had just watched me choke down an entire plate of seafood, on this guy's enthusiastic dime, with so much hope and generosity radiating across the table that one side of my face was warmer than the other. All for him. Did I mention Mr Tailor dressed up? Full suit and tie, and us in jeans. So S was on his very best behavior, with a fine sheen of panic, until he decided we could escape with our dignities intact.
...But not before I had collected enough GEMS of advice and wisdom to nearly make the memories worth the experience. And I WILL remember this. Oh, yes.
Epic story follows.
Mr Tailor met us at his shop at closing time. He got us a taxi to the beach, presented us with fireworks to light, and told me all sorts of endearing things about S. Starting with how very, very lonely he has been all year.
Then came supper at an upscale restaurant facing the beach. Mr Tailor ordered a massive and expensive meal for us to share, romantically. He checked with us at least 5 times that we like share food, we order share, eat together. I had heard him say at one point 'bulgogi' which is beef, so I was perfectly happy to share. Except that tragically he meant SHELL. It was a huge plate of live shellfish, fresh as it comes, to be cooked at our table.
Romantically. As a gift to his good young friend.
Every shred of seafood I have EVER eaten tasted like rancid tidal effluent. I don't see how anyone can like the stuff; in fact I question the idea that anything that makes your stomach twitch on contact is 'food'. Every time I am told condescendingly that I just haven't tried seafood done RIGHT (because how could I possibly dislike something so delicious?), I take a deep breath, remind myself that maybe my tastes have changed since last I choked down something vile cloaked in not-enough-sauces, and spare them the graphic description of exactly what organs of which ecological niche they are savoring.
I ate 1 scallop, 2 sea snails, a shrimp, and parts of a huge I-don't-know-what, all as slowly and politely as I could without bursting into hysterics.
Eat more, you skinny! Like chopstick! You in Korea today, try everything! You never find this anywhere else!
There were also roasted silkworms on the table (a South Asian delicacy), and the idea that I might be charmingly force-fed those before he would possibly ask the evening's performers to invite me onstage to sing a song... it was my own private hell.
After the atrocities, when I wanted nothing more than to brush my teeth out and find a warm, dark place to shiver, we adjourned to the sky lounge for further drinks and admirations of the scenic, romantic coast. Which I will admit was very pretty. The steel factory that takes up most of that view lights its smokestacks and conveyor belts with decorative rainbow LEDs after dark.
This was the cue to further extol S's finer qualities.
*feral grin*
Mr Tailor has known S for 8 months now. S often stops by the shop to chat, and has cooked for Mr Tailor and his wife. He is teaching S traditional Korean table manners. S is a very special boy. Mr Tailor has met hundreds of foreign English teachers, hundreds of thousands of people the world over, never anyone like S. He is a good boy. A perfect gentleman with a pure heart and no evil in him anywhere. Mr Tailor has been watching him for 8 months - no badness in him. He will make a good husband. But he doesn't fit in. Lonely, he has been, so very lonely. Mr Tailor is so glad that I have come to visit him. I must be very good friend! Maybe before I leave I will be more than a friend? Next year Mr Tailor will be visiting family near Los Angeles, maybe he can come to wedding!
::toasts to our love, hopefully::
::finds out I am the same age as his absent son::
S is very young, lacks experience, but I can teach him. I can train him to be the sort of man I want. He will learn fast, he is a smart boy! I can shape him to be anything I need. That is how good marriages work! Mr Tailor has been married now 37 years, and his wife trained him to be totally different man.
S had just watched me choke down an entire plate of seafood, on this guy's enthusiastic dime, with so much hope and generosity radiating across the table that one side of my face was warmer than the other. All for him. Did I mention Mr Tailor dressed up? Full suit and tie, and us in jeans. So S was on his very best behavior, with a fine sheen of panic, until he decided we could escape with our dignities intact.
...But not before I had collected enough GEMS of advice and wisdom to nearly make the memories worth the experience. And I WILL remember this. Oh, yes.