Skip to main content

For the Love of an Asian Drama

So...one of my "friends" -- and right now I'm using the term loosely -- introduced me to Asian soap operas. More specifically, "The Perfect Match."

How did a show plunge me into the depths of despair in 22 episodes?

It centers around the relationship between a girl who cooks in the Night Market and a Cordon Bleu chef. The two meet, fall in love, break up, and reunite. Of course, there are various twists and turns that make it interesting. When it was over, I was crying like they were me and New Boo.

That's the reality. I was watching this fiction, wishing it was true for me.

When he broke her heart, I felt the same pain I fell every time things don't go the way I want them to with New Boo. Fortunately for her, she was able to recover her love.

Me? Not so much.

And that's why I'm sitting here listening to sad music and trying to remember why I'm supposed to hate New Boo. Trust...I haven't forgotten the many disappointments he's participated in. I also haven't forgotten how they made me feel.

But I also remember how good it feels when he comes through. I remember how disappointed I was when I wasn't pregnant and how he went out and bought me a coffee mug. Little things that make big impressions on the heart.

Sigh...

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

He's Gone...For Real

My uncle died. He actually ceased to live. I don't know how to handle this. Even though he was my mother's brother, he was so much more than that to me. He was the coolest cat on the block, He set the standard that every man had to meet. He was the one I compared every man in my life to. For all intents and purposes, he was my de facto dad. I am stunned. I feel like someone knocked the wind out of my body. I grew up watching him. If he sat up straight, I wanted to sit up straight. I once caught him standing up to pee. I thought I'd do that when I grew up, too. (You can just imagine that conversation). That's the thing...he never shied away from my craziness. When I discovered what a father was -- at the tender age of five -- I purposed in my heart to find one for myself. I asked every man I knew, including him, if they'd be my daddy. He said, "I can't be your dad. I'm your uncle." When I pressed, he gently explained that he already had a significan...

The Five Commandments of Houseguests

It's Sunday night, and I just put one of my girlfriends on the plane. She's a great person, but this weekend wore on me like none other. In her defense, she's in mourning. Her husband just died in September, and she's learning how to live again. They had been together since high school and now he's gone. That being said...there was NO excuse for the way she acted this weekend. Please understand...I'm not perfect. Never have been. And now that I'm 40, I don't feel the need to apologize for it. But NO ONE gets to make me feel inferior in MY house. Absolutely not! My house wasn't exactly in tip-top shape. I work two jobs, sing in the church choir, and try to work out with my trainer twice a week. So my house wasn't really ready for her. Then I realized that my mind wasn't ready for her, either. Even when we were in school, she wasn't the friend I could hang out with every day. More than that, she came with the very mentality th...

A Middle Aged Rant

I am single. I’ve never had a husband. I’ve never given birth to a child. I’ve never lived with a man over six months. I am 54. I’m not classically pretty. I’m overweight. I’m not very tall. My brother says I’m a unicorn. My friends are kind enough not to make me feel small. My mother mentions in passing that she wants me to find a husband. I try not to be sad about my state. I’ve lived a life that some would find enviable. I had my dream job, met and interviewed great people, made great friends, and traveled all over the world. I have a new career that I find oddly fulfilling. Men don’t always like that. Some of them are jealous because I’m not easily impressed. Some are jealous because I’ve done things they haven’t. Some are jealous because I’ve lived on both coasts. I don’t know what to do. I can’t change my life – not that I want to. I can’t change my past – not that I want to. I can’t change myself –not that I want to. I just want someone to see me, not the image I present. I want...