I was at a Korean restaurant with my wife and daughter on Father’s Day eve, and in came a family of 5, which was seated right next to us. The family of 5, consists of a couple and a kid, with another older couple whom I reckoned must be the wife’s parents. I could tell that they were there for a Father’s Day dinner, because they did not look naturally together. Their dinner was awkward, as I’ve noticed. [it was just a regular nice weekend dinner for us, which we always do - something we look forward every weekend].
One could instantly tell that the son-in-law was the one who’s gonna pay for the dinner because he was cocky and obnoxious. Irritating for us, actually, for we had to contend this lout who couldn’t help to tell the world (loudly) that he’s the most uneducated fuckstain in town and has a personality comparable to a hobo’s dick cheese. The rest of the family members, were all very quiet listening to this loser yapping like a bullhorn, sending half chewed projectiles all over the place. At times, he’d even castigate the old lady for not knowing how to properly eat a Samgyeopsal dish. The old man (wife’s father) was especially pissed off, though with an almost straight face – probably wondering what had he done wrong in his past life to deserve a son-in-law like that.
The wife, abashed by her husband’s behavior, kept looking towards our table to check if we noticed. Of course I fucking noticed! How couldn’t I? Her fucking oaf of a husband was like a beacon of a potential dark possibility for everyone in the restaurant there. I was like, gazing into the future through a portal, that one day, I might be in that fucking old man’s pair of uncomfortable shoes. But instead of sitting around gazing at food projectiles from my son-in-law’s mouth landing all over the table like paratroopers in WWII, I’d probably jam that pair of flat metal Korean chopsticks into his skull, pry it open, hawk a loogy and spit it into his tiny brain. Then I’m going to spend the rest of my life in jail. So what’s the fucking point of having this torturous dinner yang penuh keseksaan ini? Might as well don’t do it.
That was why I told my daughter this on that night – “Look at that table. Look at that loud fat guy. He’s the son-in-law of that old couple. Now, I don’t want to be like that sad old man, eating this joker’s dinner on Father’s Day. I don’t need him to bring us out for dinner, because I can afford my own dinner. If you want to have dinner with me on Father’s Day, you can come alone or with my grandchildren. We’d eat like a happy family like we always do. But don’t let your husband bring us out to dinner. I’m not going to enjoy it. That’s because I’m not your husband’s father. I am your father. If he wants to celebrate Father’s Day, he should do it with his own father or whoever he fancies, just not me. Ok?”
“Good. If you’re broke but still want a Father’s Day dinner, you can just buy some cheap packed food and we can still enjoy them at home, but without your husband. If you don’t want to have dinner with me for some other reasons, I’m fine with it too. Just don’t put me into that situation right there, ok?”
I couldn’t have made it any clearer. My daughter got everything I said, although I was receiving some death stares from my wife. For me, it’s very simple. I don’t do things for the sake of doing it. Things have to be done with a purpose. If the purpose is wanting me to be happy, then everyone should just fucking leave me alone when I’m old. I hope my daughter reads this when she’s married.