The story begins in California during the holiday break. I flew home to see my parents, my sister, her husband and my very fat niece. The weather was uncooperating and every day of my 10 vacation was a rainy one. Although my Dad and I did venture out to the golf course one day, we realized as we squished in our shoes and huddled around a striped umbrella that it was best to leave the clubs in the garage for the rest of my trip.
At home every attempt to leave to visit friends was thwarted by my mother who finally got to have her girls around her. So under house arrest, I played with my niece, watched way too much TV and bonded with my family. Apparently, Green tea flavored soju was on sale at the Korean store and my dad bought multiple six packs, which enhanced the family round table discussions.
As my parents, and to a lesser point my sister and brother-in-law, dissected my life, they came to their final conclusion: Mihee is single because she does not wear high heels. Since it appeared that I might not change my shoes anytime soon, my parents would help me in otherways. My parents decreed that all dating bans were being lifted and that I may: date any one I please irregardless of profession, live with a boy before I got married, and I do not need their approval before doing the aforementioned acts. Let me translate: they are getting desperate for more grandchildren.
Returning to Boston was a slight relief as I was able to concentrate on work and got into a nice rhythm going again. I had made a New Year's resolution to go out more and managed to sneak in nights of partying. One thing is clear is that I am a magnet for undergraduates. Actually, let me rephrase that undergraduates seems to teem into the Boston bars and arewilling to hit on me. I'm not above it and it is definitely an ego boost, but nothing else. Perhaps I needed to change strategies a bit, so when I got the e-mail about the Harvard Graduate council hosting a matchmaking party, aka the Crimson Crush, I thought why not?
A week before the party, we filled out personality surveys online, and at the party we were supposed to receive a list on compatible individuals. The night of the dance began witha few mugs of wine at a friend’s house. (Honestly, I am not an alcoholic,but considering the situations wouldn't you be drinking too?). All dressed up and four of my Harvard gal pals in tow, we made our way to the Roxy, site of this year's dance. For the first hour the place was dead. Two Chinese girls were ballroom dancing to Sean Paul and one white boy in his own soultrain world was on making his moves on the 360. Above them laser lightskept spelling out the word "Harvard" in bright green letters. The initial omens were not good. At 11 when the place began to fill up, we all picked upour surveys and started the hunt. The point of the game is to get a matchlist and it can serve a springboard for a conversation even if the otherperson was not your match. It worked for a while, and it was fun to talk topeople from all the different schools. Some people took their lists a littletoo seriously and were adamant on finding their soul mates. Others likemyself talked to anyone. One boy was promising, until the song “OPP” cameon the loudspeakers. I said “Wow, this takes me back....ah high school." Hereplied, “High school? This was like elementary school. Dude, you must beold.” I could not figure out what I liked least, being referred to as dudeor as old, but safe to say he ran away. Despite meeting many nice awkward Jewish lawyers-to-be, I did not find my future husband. That is not to say the night was a bust. My friend V gave her number away to two verynice boys and my other friend S managed to bring two random people together. I, also, had a great night of dancing and realized that going outshould not be reserved fro the weekend. As we waited for our cab at the end of night and I was shaking the street sand off my loafers, we watched thedrunken couple besides us and listened in on their conversation. “Sweetie,my feet really hurt” Her boyfriend gave her a piggyback ride to the corner and hailed down a cab for the two of them. Hmmm... high heels, maybe I should give them some more thought. Happy Valentines Day all!
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