Nappeun Nom

When I lived in the Bay, I used to go to this wonderful little Korean restaurant by myself.

I'd eat Korean BBQ and kimchi stew.

It was owned, as most Korean restaurants should be, by a family.

The cook should be the head of said Korean family, man or woman, the older the better, ideally grand (or a Mexican man - is that racist? I don't mean it to be), but I digress.

And the mother used to come by and chit chat.

Small talk.

Do a little recon.

As Korean mothers do.

And, one day, after I'd become a regular, she asked me if she could set me up.

With a nice Korean girl.

She knew and approved of many.

And I told her, in my broken Korean, no thank you.

And when she asked why, I made up something.

I said, in clear Korean, "Because I'm a bad man."

Looking back, I see there's more truth to that statement that I'd like to have admitted back then.

But I simply didn't want to "ruin" my sanctuary.

My circle of comfort food.

She looked rightfully confused and shocked.

But never mentioned it again.

Even grew a little distant.

It's the way she should have kept it.

I suppose I stopped going there soon after anyways.

I don't remember a single thing I loved there.

Spicy pork, maybe?

But it was good.

Good food.

Healed me a bit.

Vibe was ruined after that.

I was a vibe guy.

And what can I say, some things never change.

"Hard work pays off."

"Dreams come true."

"Bad times don't last,"

"But bad guys do."