When I see hashtags, I think of home improvement. Maybe it’s because social media really took off the year that we worked on our new house. Suddenly # was no longer “the pound sign” on the landline phones of my youth (remember, I’m old). Instead, it became a marker that people used to look up conversations/ events on Twitter, or #CatsofInstagram.
When I met my Chinese-American fiancé, he already had a nice little townhouse near the beach in Los Angeles. He had a very nice muscle car. He’d clearly spent a lot of money on dance lessons. After I met him, he spent even more money on dancing. He gave me expensive presents, including a platinum and diamond engagement ring. Until I met his parents, I had no idea he came from an exceptionally frugal family. Continue reading Andy Drives a Hard Bargain (#35)
My Chinese-American boyfriend’s birthday came less than a month after we started dating. I got him a polo shirt, carefully cut off the tags, and wrapped it up in tissue paper. Andy opened it, thanked me, and sat in expectant silence. Continue reading Badge of Shame (#33)
I learned to drive in Washington, DC. History says the city architect Pierre L’Enfant envisioned an egalitarian capital, with wide boulevards and public spaces. This vision is realized on the National Mall. The rest of the streets are such a mishmash that conspiracy theorists can and will create any pattern in them: Luciferic pentagrams? Check. Continue reading Andy Goes to New Hampshire (#31)
I had many boyfriends before I met my Chinese-American boyfriend Andy. It’s not a secret, especially not to Andy. We’d been friends for a year before we dated, and dance partners for six months before we kissed. At practice, he’d listen to me moan about my then-relationship’s death spiral into misery. He saw multiple exes on the dance floor as well. None of it seemed to bother him. Or so I thought. Continue reading Possessions With a Past (#30)
Not long after my Chinese-American fiancé proposed, I caught a nasty cold. I am sure it had nothing to do with an engagement made stressful by stubborn Chinese parents. Continue reading Bitter Tea (#28)
My Chinese-American boyfriend and I had been engaged 12 hours. His mother had already booked a church in Hawaii – never mind that I wanted to get married in New Hampshire. Sunny, however, refused to hear any plans that ran counter to hers.