Pre-Engagement

Before my boyfriend and I move into our newly-purchased house, our parents have banned together to propose a pre-engagement dinner, traditionally hosted by the girl's side of the family. They've tolerated almost nine years of us dawdling in this relationship without the prospect of marriage, and they've just about had enough. Apparently, moving in to live with a guy before I've legally tied the knot devalues my worth, and only through the "title" that is promised during the pre-engagement ceremony can I prevent this from happening.

The modern, independent, and Western-bred side of me rolls her eyes at such formality. I've lived with my family all my life, gone to college close to home, and have never moved out, so I feel I've long overstayed my welcome under my parents' watchful eyes. At this age, a certain twinge of embarrassment surfaces when I am forced to tell friends and colleagues. "I still live with my parents." But the traditional respectful, Eastern-born side of me cautions that if I do not heed and uphold the ways of my culture, I will be uprooted and drifting without clear ideals to pass along to my future children, who will be born on this American soil and may never fully understand, acknowledge--even see--Viet Nam. This side of me quells the knee-jerk reaction of my other half that wants to dismiss my mom's initial proposal for the pre-engagement dinner, and because my parents have been mostly tolerant of my headstrong ways, I thought this would be a small indulgence to make them happy.

I have learned to become self-assured in most aspects of life thus far; in my academic and professional endeavors, I've succeeded enough to feel confident in my knowledge and abilities, but suddenly, the concept of marriage and the traditional ceremonies leading up to it freezes me like a deer in headlights. As my mom described the proper ways to do things, I felt the need to hyperventilate into a paper bag. As if the thought of a traditional engagement party with countless close and distant relatives ogling at me wasn't enough to send me screaming for the hills, now I have an approaching menace to deal with: pre-engagement.

How am I supposed to know that the guy's side of the family needs to bring over tea and a pair of wine bottles as gifts upon attending the dinner, or that the girl's side of the family gives back a gift of traditional sticky-rice cakes that must be pre-ordered for nuptial ceremonies? Or that the guy's party must attend the dinner in an even number because an odd number is considered bad luck for the future pairing? Casual and simple in my taste for clothes, I never took great joy in shopping or playing dress-up, and now I have to think about what to wear to the event. Does white symbolize death and bad luck instead of purity? Does red scream "whore" instead of merely being flamboyant? Is pink somewhere in the middle? It would be proper for me to take a day off work and help out with the preparations on the day of the dinner. I could already picture my time-off request--Hours: 8; Reason: some sort of traditional pre-engagement ceremony that I didn't even know existed until fairly recently.

To me, a "traditional" proposal would be my man popping a perfect diamond ring in a romantic setting, and that I'd say yes on my own terms instead of under the manipulation of family. It's a goal I am still striving for as Tung and I continue to save up our assets after depleting the account for the house purchase. But for now, I will go through with this small indulgence of the pre-engagement dinner, a first step to exploring a new world of old traditions.