The fact that my dad and I are the eli­gi­ble bach­e­lors in the fam­ily means we get a lot of advice around the din­ner table. They bring up avail­able women. Friends of friends, daugh­ters of dance part­ners, or this-person-I-know.

It’s strange to come upon the sud­den real­iza­tion that my dad and I are at the same point in life. Does that make me old, or him young?

They ask us our tastes: Looks? Personality? Older or younger? I say, “Money”, but they know me well enough to know I’m jok­ing. A joke to hide my answer, for to reveal myself in this way is to expose a cer­tain vul­ner­a­bil­ity. So they side­step the ques­tion and ask me if I’m after any­one, think­ing that if I describe a per­son I’m inter­ested in, they’ll be able to fig­ure out what I’m look­ing for. It’s com­pli­cated, I think to myself, so only reply with a “No”. They ask me if there’s any­one after me. “No”. That’s even more complicated.

Last week, my grand­mother asked me how old I was. “28”, I told her. “Already! You’re almost 30. It’s time for you to get mar­ried.” She says if I stay in Hong Kong all the girls will be after me because I have some kind of gen­tle­man scholar look. My dad too; he’s the man’s man, who’s always been fun and pop­u­lar. And we have Canadian pass­ports. Apparently, we’re in demand.

But they also want to make sure we’re not get­ting involved with the wrong type of women. Someone who will take our money once we’re mar­ried, or force alimony once they trap us with chil­dren. They tell us to keep an eye on each other. I say that my dad doesn’t need my approval if he wants to get mar­ried, but I don’t need his approval either. So they tell us to bring our girls to meet them, to be sure they’re okay.

I won­der; is love this easy for other peo­ple? Something oth­ers can con­trol, when I can’t con­trol it myself?