Good Man’s mother offered to buy us a car.
Good Man said no.
No, Good Man, no!
It occurred to me today that at Good Man’s house Saturday, I was given a fork. A fork and no chopsticks.
I’d asked for chopsticks, thinking maybe she wanted me to use the fork for the salad. I got chopsticks, looked around, saw Father and Sister eating their salad with chopsticks and dove right in. I didn’t think anything of it.
It wasn’t until today that I realized that I was the only person with a fork and without chopsticks.
I know she was trying to be kind, but why do Koreans think chopsticks are so hard for foreigners to use? Especially when said foreigner has lived here for 691 days? It’s tiresome.
A few weeks ago, Good Man and I went to a coworker’s wedding. On the cash envelope I wrote (in Korean) “Amanda English Teacher, [Good Man].” She knew he was coming, so I figured she’d realize who he was. We both signed the guest book.
When my coworker got back from the honeymoon, she and her husband were looking through the money list. They had no idea who Good Man was, so they had to go through the guest book. They found his name next to mine and figured out it was me.
I was the only who stood in front of the money collectors, writing on the envelope. I was the one who took the cash from my wallet. The bride is a teacher, the groom is not, and I wrote “English Teacher” on the envelope. I handed them the cash.
How stupid do you have to be to write down the secondary name on the envelope as the primary gift giver and not even write down the first name on the envelope at all?
I was ticked, and Good Man said, “It’s Korean Confucianism. It’s sexist and racist all at the same time. It’s messed up.”