Life was simpler when I had a Gameboy
A cousin on my mom’s side is having an engagement party at the end of the month. I dread large family events such as this one because I can’t resort to my childhood routine of finding a quiet corner to play with my Gameboy. Meeting old family acquaintances I haven’t seen in over a decade is an awkward process. It seems as though these people have a prearranged checklist of points to hit when speaking to me that include: confusing me for my brother, becoming wide eyed with amazement that I am not my brother, looking up at me like I’m 8 feet tall, commenting on how big I’ve grown, and spending the rest of the night calling me by my brother’s name.
My dad hasn’t said anything, but I bet he is scheming to set me up with someone’s daughter at this engagement party. I think he does this to me not because he wants to ensure I marry someone successful (i.e. someone Vietnamese and not an embarrassment to my parents), but because he’s kind of an asshole. The first time my dad made it his life’s mission to find me a wife, he brought a girl over to our house for Thanksgiving without my prior knowledge.
An assistant at his optometrist’s office, my dad carefully narrowed down the list of potential future daughter-in-laws to this poor girl; mostly because, at the time, she was studying to become a (insert successful and high paying career). Without any warning, she appeared at our house at 11am, and I was freshly out of bed looking dapper with a pillow ‘fro and eye boogers all up on my face. I believe in strong first impressions, and I could not have made a better one. I don’t think she really wanted to be there, but as a gesture of good will she gifted me Metallica’s St. Anger. My dad told her I listened to metal, except I don’t.
This is where the story is supposed to continue, but I have since repressed much of this encounter into the deep recesses of my mind. However, I can tell you that she attended the same university, and I would occasionally encounter her on campus. By encounter, I meant to say I would see her from afar and choose to walk in a different direction. I didn’t want her to see me and think, “Oh, there’s Pillow-Fro-Eye-Booger guy.” If I could just find a nice little corner to escape into the worlds of Mario and Samus, I would have fewer reasons to hate my life.
