How I Met Her Father

We were walking to the Wine Bar with some friends after a very filling dinner when she looked down at her phone and then turned to me. “He knows.” His text message began (in Chinese), “Someone told me you’re dating...” Well, it was a long run. Over two months.

My first question, “Does he know I’m not Chinese?”

Second thought, “Well, at least you don’t need to stress about finding a way to tell him any more.”

A back and forth exchange of text messages revealed that he knew quite little and I must admit I was a bit disappointed. In my mind, he already knew and was just keeping it to himself. In my mind, he had already scoped me out on the bus or in the streets; he had already searched my online profiles; and he had several connections around the city watching my every move. That’s what I’d do if my future daughter was dating (good luck sweetheart). The only reason I didn’t know more about her father was because when it comes to translating Chinese web pages, Google Translate still falls extremely short.

What did I already know about him? Well, I’ve seen a picture of him with my girlfriend at her graduation photo shoot (an event which, incidentally, I arrived late to in order to avoid meeting him). He supports two daughters on a government security job (airport customs or something). Although he’s not a traditional Chinese, having two daughters would certainly justify protectiveness. He has two very expensive hobbies: photography and cycling. In fact, every Saturday he rides several hours into Mainland and back again, except on one occasion when he attended a shooting competition... yeah, with a gun! Perhaps you can see how I drew my earlier conclusions.

Five of us sat down at the bar and I felt my sprouting headache getting worse. I passed on the wine knowing that I’d need some Extra Strength Nighttime Tylenol to sleep that night. I imagined her father piecing everything together.

So that’s why she wants to go to Canada. Wait... how long ago did she mention that?

She was just in Taiwan. And didn’t she mention that she took a cab with just one other person?

She’s leaving for Malaysia this Friday! How did I not notice! My innocent daughter...

My biggest concern though was the inevitable: He’s from Canada, which means he’s leaving in what, one, two months? He’s just here on exchange – to party, to have fun, to fool around with foreign girls. He’ll return to his country and leave my daughter with a broken heart.

Many girls in China aren’t allowed to date until after university. The standards in Canada – at least for a 2^nd generation Canadian of European descent – are much more liberal. I used to jokingly say that I wouldn’t tell my mother if I was in a relationship for at least two months, but in reality, my whole family has known nearly as long as I have. My grandfather’s first reply was an email about YouTube videos I should check out along the lines of “How to Meet Your Chinese Girlfriend’s Parents.” My mother, in her characteristic fashion, sent her gifts and has undoubtedly shared the news with the entire neighbourhood and envisioned visits to her Chinese grandchildren. This is why I threaten not to tell her things...

At the end of their digital conversation, it was decided that we would have dinner the following night. Still at the bar, as the evening moved forward, someone brought up the issue of who pays and thus opened another floodgate of questions. Do I need to offer to pay? He wouldn’t call my bluff would he? Oh, and a gift! What should I bring? What should I wear? Casual or formal? Glasses or contact lenses? Where will we eat? How will we possibly hold a conversation when I can’t speak Cantonese and he barely speaks English? I should have worked harder on my Interesting Cantonese book.

I left the bar to catch one of the last buses back to residence. I dropped my girlfriend off at her stop and wished her luck in facing her father in person. I waited in growing agitation for my own bus while I received text messages relaying the event. As expected, her father bombarded her with questions. The first text from her read, “...he doesn’t look happy...” and as deflection, she told him to save his questions for me. Good job appeasing him...

I woke up to my roommate’s alarm which he continued to dismiss for the next couple of hours. The Tylenol worked well, though as soon as my brain woke up, my insides twisted. I ate breakfast and showered as usual, with only short breaks of mental ease when I managed to distract myself with some other thoughts. For certain periods, like a discussion on the political future of China at lunch, this worked quiet well. Class wasn’t nearly quite as good a diversion though. I spent the whole time writing out the introduction to this blog post. While my groupmates were stressing about our presentation, I was stressing about dinner. Near the end of class, I received a text with the details: 6:30 at a steakhouse (because I’m “from North America”). Well at least that was well-meaning and considerate.

Following Organizational Change, I went to the grocery store and bought a tin of cookies as a gift. Being the fit man I heard he was, I didn’t actually think he would go for that sort of thing, but it was the best suggestion I was given. I returned to residence to change and wrap the cookie tin in a nice bag I got for volunteering at the Macau Literary Festival. I just needed something to carry the gift in, but that turned out to be a good choice.

Getting to the steakhouse was one of the most stressful moments of my day. My body continued to pump cortisol as the city buses navigated the thick traffic. The bus transfer was my saving grace as the 25 pulled up right behind the MT3U as I got off (and the driver actually let me on despite being overcapacity).

My girlfriend met me at the bus stop near her house and we walked to the restaurant together, going over questions and the general game plan. No touching and I was to field any questions regarding Malaysia. We waited outside of the restaurant for several minutes before finally getting a hold of her father by phone and realizing he was already inside with my girlfriend’s grandmother.

And so came the moment of truth. Two of them sat in a booth situated in the back corner of the restaurant. The décor was dark and the area had only dim lighting. We sat down and I offered them my gift. Ordering took place before introductions, just to get that out of the way. I looked him over. He had a round face topped with a greying buzz cut and wore a brown polo embroidered with guns and the phrase “Glock Perfection.” Gulp. But, more noticeable were the etched wrinkles of a man who has spent a lot of time smiling. He has a look that few people have – one belonging to those who have found balance in their life; one of effortless joy and radiating happiness. He reminded me a lot of a French Canadian neighbour who lives across from my parents.

His questions were not unusual; any father around the world would have asked the same ones. He began, of course, by asking me my name. Then, he followed with how old I was and when I mentioned that I was 21 but my birthday was the next day, he called the restaurant he had booked for the following night and added another seat. I knew beforehand that his birthday was May 2^nd, but would be celebrating it the day before (on my birthday). With the time difference, I actually share his birthday on May 2^nd, but I didn’t think that making the connection would be a good start to our acquaintance (I did anyway).  I was previously resigned to the fact that I would have a birthday dinner without my girlfriend, but instead I would now be meeting more family members the next day. Oh, and I guess I’d have to buy another gift...

The questions continued and my girlfriend proceeded to act as translator. What do you plan on doing after graduation? What do your parents do? Do you play sports? Have any hobbies? Do you live in the city or countryside? I tried playing off what I knew of him, asking briefly about his job and cycling, but otherwise I felt myself quieting and the conversation shifted to a more consistent Cantonese. He asked the grandmother if she had any questions for me and she waved him off with a sort of “Let him be.” She sat there all meal, quiet and knowing, possibly to get a look at her granddaughter’s foreign boyfriend, but more likely just to eat.

The meal was very quick and we were out within the hour. Of course he didn’t let me pay and I thanked him for the meal. As we stood outside of the restaurant, he asked whether I had enjoyed dinner and made sure to check whether I liked Chinese food (in anticipation of the following night and perhaps for future reference). The best sign of course was that he still let me leave with his daughter.

As two of us walked the city streets, now dampened in a light evening rain, we exhaled in relief. She explained that the not-so-happy demeanour of the night before was caused by the way he found out his daughter was dating. A good friend of his, who he was having dinner with, broke the news. His friend with a Facebook account had no problem connecting the dots. The friend then continued to poke fun of his ignorance, the way that good friends can do. And so, there was another worry off of my mind.

It is here the story ends, or more correctly begins: one dinner to be followed by another – the story of how I met my girlfriend’s father. While I myself took over 1,700 words to tell the tale, the essence can be found in that first text between father and daughter. Shock. Curiosity. Concern. Advice. And his final line: “I just want you to be happy.”