She doesn’t like him because he didn’t graduate from a top university and because he’s still a student, not a full PhD yet. But when she was in a hurry to marry off her daughter, she was the one asking me to look. Now she says it’s not urgent and just hangs up.
I really like matchmaking. When I see lonely people of marriage age, or singles who want to get married, I immediately start thinking, “Who do I know?” “Is there someone?” Then suddenly, “Ah! Yes, I know someone!” and I start making phone calls everywhere.
“That matchmaking bug bit you again!”
My husband clicks his tongue beside me. And when the match doesn’t work out, he says,
“Didn’t I tell you to stop? Why do you keep doing it and end up getting blamed? If you love matchmaking that much, open your own office and do it.”
When I was 30, still single and lonely, no one tried to match me with anyone. Maybe that’s why it still bothers me, and I feel the need to help others get married — like it’s my way of letting go of the past. When I see a couple happily married because of me, I feel so happy and want to do it again. I think, “Just a few phone calls can bring happiness to someone who’s lonely,” and I can’t sit still. Even though I sometimes get scolded for matchmaking that didn’t work out, I don’t really care. If I can help someone find happiness, I’ll do it anyway.
After people get married through my matchmaking, sometimes they fight. Then I have to be a marriage counselor too. When I hear why they fight, I’m often shocked. Even though they got married later in life, they still act immaturely. One woman told me she fought with her husband because he wouldn’t buy her an art studio. If you want something, you should work hard, build trust with your husband first, then ask. Expecting a studio right after marriage is more childish than asking a bank for a loan with no credit history.
When I try to match people, they always point out what’s wrong with the other person. They don’t think about building a life together. They just want marriage to be a way out, a safe place to escape from real life.
Around me, there are many women of marriage age — but not many men. So when a rare man comes along, I try hard to find a good match. But the women aren’t interested. He’s got a bright future, he’s healthy, cheerful, and funny. But they don’t like him because he’s not a PhD or didn’t go to a top university. I want to shout, “Know yourself!” But I hold it in and quietly make more phone calls, glancing at my husband.
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