Last night my dad came in drunk (I’m visiting my parents for the weekend) and more or less called me a woman of loose morals for sleeping with a white man I’m not even formally engaged to.
I cried, I was so mad and hurt. It really hurt that my own dad judged me by some antiquated Confucian moral standard. It was even more shocking because I thought my dad liked my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for two years and he’s hung out with my family often enough. He gets along with my parents just fine, or so I thought.
My boyfriend isn’t helping. We’re saving up for a house, have talked about a long-term future, kids, etc. He’s not opposed to the institution of marriage or anything like that - at heart he’s an old-fashioned Catholic boy. But any concrete talk of marriage plans makes him look like he’s suffering from heartburn. I know he wants to propose the old-fashioned way (he’s mildly appalled that people nowadays pick out engagement rings together) but I don’t know how much longer I can stay sane, stuck between my parents and my boyfriend.
Maybe I should become a nun.