- When I told my mom there was a new Chinese American man in town, I was just making conversation.
- It meant something different to her; she got to work making sure we met and started dating.
I pushed open the door to our suburban home in Detroit after a long day interning at General Motors. Munching on potato chips, I told my mother a new Chinese boy had moved to town.
Her eyes widened. There were rarely new additions to the eligible-bachelor pool in our small Chinese American community. I'd heard about him from a fellow intern earlier that day while we were eating lunch in the break room. She also told me the new bachelor would be going to a classical music concert in town that weekend.
"Who is he?" my mother asked.
"I guess he's a doctor," I said. I was just exhausted and making conversation. At the time, I only cared about my career and taking college courses. My mother, meanwhile, had been relentlessly pestering me to get what we used to call an "MRS degree" — shorthand for becoming someone's wife. I should have known what her response to this new information would be, but believe it or not, it didn't cross my mind as we talked.
Within minutes, she was calling various friends of hers to get the lowdown on this new arrival.
My initial meeting with my husband was orchestrated by my mother
My family hadn't been planning to attend our Chinese social club's outing to the concert, but now Mom was quickly plotting, thinking about my hair, my clothes, and what I should say to him. She told me to smile and ask about his work.
She was determined to snare this young man for me before word got around town to the other Chinese American families with single daughters. Mom wanted me to have the best chance of luring him in, hook, line, and sinker.
As my dad drove us to Meadow Brook Amphitheatre that Saturday, he pleaded with my mother and me, "Please don't humiliate our family."
When we joined our group, Mom immediately asked friends the whereabouts of the potential catch — it turned out that he was at the café. She marched me straight over. Spotting the one Asian 20-something man eating alone, she quickly introduced us and pushed me into a seat across from him.
I forced a weak smile, tongue-tied. Mom gasped with glee when he told us in Mandarin his parents hailed from the same province she did. When the concert started, he and I sat on a plaid blanket my mother had set out on the lawn. My parents sat on lawn chairs behind us.
Despite our awkward initial meeting, we immediately started dating. When we returned from our fourth date, we found my mother waiting for us in my family room. As soon as we entered, she asked him what his intentions were. "Yvonne," she said, "is an innocent."
He was shocked, but insisted his intentions were honorable.
A few weeks later, when my now-boyfriend caught a terrible cold, Mom whipped up a large pot of Chinese chicken-noodle soup. She had me bring it to his apartment and say I'd prepared it.
She also pushed us toward an engagement, and while it was a little awkward, I'm forever grateful
Four months after we became an item, she announced, "We need to find out if you two are truly compatible. I'll pay for a trip to California — separate hotel rooms, of course." Because of his hectic medical-internship schedule, my boyfriend and I only saw each other two or three times a month. I guess my mom thought a trip would be a chance for us to really know each other. We got along well on the trip, although I didn't think we'd get engaged soon. In fact, a potential marriage hadn't even crossed my mind.
But I couldn't turn down the trip for a few reasons. Not only would Mom not take "no" or an answer, I had also never known her to be so generous. Up to that point, I had only been on three trips on an airplane, and the idea of escaping to California in the middle of a Michigan winter sounded appealing. It was settled; we were off to California.
At dinner at my parents' house a few weeks after our return, Mom said, in all seriousness, "Everyone knows you two went on that trip. You need to get engaged or our family will be shamed."
"What?" I said, shooting my beau a panicked look. He was surprised, too, though he stifled his shock and nodded hesitantly. At this point, we hadn't yet discussed the subject of getting engaged with each other. After all, our relationship was still fairly new; in addition to that, I was a junior in college and he had several years of training ahead of him.
Before we even had time to discuss our own thoughts about the topic privately, the next time he came around, my mother drove us to look at engagement rings. We obliged, though we were in an absolute daze.
"Don't worry, you can pay me back — interest-free," Mom said to my soon-to-be fiancé, whipping out her credit card. A few weeks later, he proposed to me on one knee in my college dorm room.
Shortly before I walked down the aisle 18 months later, my mother said, "Remember, don't smile when you walk down the aisle. We don't want people to think you're happy to leave our home."
Despite our whirlwind romance, our 41-year marriage has been a good one. No marriage is perfect, and there have been times of disconnect and tension, but we love each other and the family we've created. We certainly got engaged and married sooner than we had planned, but Mom was right: He was a great catch.
We enjoy close relationships with our two 20-something daughters and our son. I've supported my husband on over 100 volunteer medical trips to Latin America and Southeast Asia by writing a newsletter for volunteers and donors. He's been the biggest champion of my writing career, often saying he's proud of me.
When I describe my mom's matchmaking machinations at parties, my husband smiles at me and says with a wink, "Her mother caught me at my weakest moment."
For my part, I have decided to be mostly hands-off in our kids' dating lives. Our daughters used dating apps. One is now in a committed relationship; the other has been on over two first dozen first dates after lots of swiping and is still single. She removed herself, for now, from the online dating pool. Even with the initial moments of awkwardness that we experienced, I guess it has to be said — my mom was better than a dating app, and I'm grateful to her for the life I have now.