Korean Beach House on Jeju Island
Alright. Let me just go right ahead and say it.
I've spent the past 3 days feeling sorry for myself and holing up at home watching Korean love dramas.
The funny thing about love dramas is that, they suck you into believing that the story is yours. That maybe, you're the one that has lived this. That you want, more than anything else, to have a happy ending.
And so, in some twisted corny way, I want to live happily ever after in a house by the sea with a handsome, tanned Korean man for whom I can make bibimbap for.
This is now the new dream.
But the new dream does not allow for any of reality to seep in. Before, when the dream was a scruffy but posh boy who read books and played the guitar, it allowed for reality. I *could* meet that tall boy who worked in a bookshop.
But I can't meet a handsome Korean model/guy who lives in beach house. Why? Because I would probably have to buy tickets to a Rain concert in Seoul for that to happen. And in any case, the only Korean I know are side dishes to Korean BBQ. Oh and another thing, I look about as Korean as a Swiss roll.
Life is unfair. I was told to look East for the man of my dreams. I did. But nobody told me the man of my dreams will only exist on the TV screen.