Last night was Good Man’s work holiday party. It was in Georgetown and the dress code was no jeans, which meant I got Good Man into one of his suits. As he always says, I win!
When we got there, Good Man introduced me to a few people. Without fail, every single one said something like “you can not believe how much time your husband has saved me,” or “oh, we are so happy to have [Good Man], he is awesome.”
I always knew Good Man was a good man, but it’s nice to see how much other people see it, too. He is a hard, dedicated worker (you can’t overcome 30 years of conditioning) and he is damn good at what he does.
(Yes, I know this song is about a guitar. I don’t care.)
Good Man’s Coworker came with her brother, who is visiting from Korea. He doesn’t speak much English at all. I introduced myself in Korean and he stared at me.
I repeated myself.
He stared at me. “You speak Korean?”
“I lived in Korea for two years. Gwangmyeong, Anyang, Bangi-dong…”
“I live in Anyang!”
I told him where I’d worked and then Good Man introduced himself in Korean. Brother asked how we knew each other. “We’re married,” Good Man said.
Brother looked at Good Man for a minute and said, “Are you Korean?”
Coworker, Good Man and I all laughed, but when they left to get a drink, Good Man turned to me and pouted. He didn’t have to say a word. I patted his shoulder, “I know, babe, Koreans don’t think you’re Korean. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“I am not Chinese! Or Japanese! Or Vietnamese!” (Those are the three he gets most often. In fact, a few months ago he was at the bank on his lunch hour and some tourist walked up to him and started prattling on in Mandarin.) He jutted out his lip, “Why don’t Koreans even know I’m Korean?”
Shortly before we left, a woman said, “Oh my God, someone I know!” and grabbed my arm. I looked up to see someone from the GT (gifted and talented) department in my district standing in front of me. That was a nice surprise, and we chatted for a bit.
To top off a nice evening, on the subway ride home a stranger tapped my shoulder, told me she loved my dress, and asked where I bought it. I win!