A year earlier, she was walking down the street, having her morning cigarette. It was a beautiful summer day and she looked serene. That is, until an old woman, a stranger, slapped her behind the head, took the smoke off her hands and threw it on the ground, looking annoyed and offended.
Later that day, she would experience further confusion as her students would put her on (gender) trial for having a disgusting habit. The next day, the whole school was still in shock and, under the disapproving look of the moms, she had to promise to never smoke again in front of the kids.
She liked having a drink once in a while, and so did he. But he always had to get hammered. In his world, it was inconceivable for a man not to get drunk when the boss or even friends invited him out to dinner.
Every restaurant in the country had (at least) one smoky room filled with loud drunken men. Every singing room (noraebong) hostesses had to clean the mess left behind by the inebriated male costumers – who had almost certainly felt like Frank Sinatra for a few hours.
At 2:00am on a Tuesday night, he was waking up the neighborhood as he laughed and vociferated on the street. Sometimes he would throw up in an alley, his co-worker kindly padding his back. Sometimes he could barely stand on his feet, a glassy stare in his eyes. He would yell atrocities as his friends were holding him up.
When she had one too many drinks, her safety was at stake. Her smile was taken to mean: “I want you”, and he understood her staggering as a chance for easy sex. Even though they had never met, he thought it was okay to boldly grab her boobs, her butt, or even try to kiss her.
If she said “no”, she was a tease. If she said “yes”, she was a slut. Sipping her Martini at the bar, she would catch his glare and feel like a piece of meat.
He wore a necktie – symbol that she never really understood. Though it made him look neat and important, why suffocate oneself? For him, being dressed up meant wearing clothes from head to toe (i.e. a suit).
She, on the other hand, was expected to reveal her legs in an ensemble that also exposed her cleavage. Other women would stare at her feet if she didn’t wear those high heels that killed her back.
He had had many lovers and repeatedly cheated on his wife. He was a man! Yet when he found out she was having an affair, he treated her like a prostitute and he never let it go.
Though society was evolving, she was still expected to be (or at least act) naïve, quiet and submissive. And even if she felt good about herself, she was aware of the disapproving look of others. Given, she wasn’t skinny but she was pretty. But even at job interviews, she was quickly shown the door – what costumer would want to deal with a curvy woman? They never used that many words, but that’s obviously what they meant.
28 years old and a career, she was still living with her parents. Her only escape was marriage. He, on the other hand, was living a bachelor’s life, his mom closely watching his finances, bringing him home-cooked meals and cleaning his apartment.
Hanging out with her foreign friends on a Friday night, she couldn’t help but wonder why she wasn’t born in America…
