Michiel and Marieke (not their real names) claim that when they first met there was no indication that they would end up like this. Theirs was a usual courtship. Meeting at university, they developed a deep love for each other through a shared liking of the band Doe Maar (Michiel was particularly good at singing Smoorverliefd while Marieke knew all the dance moves), red wine from Chile, cheese from France and a healthy interest in hiking and biking, just like all good Dutch citizens.
Their first date showed nothing that may have set off alarm bells. They went to a movie, followed by a couple of Heinekens at a mutually convenient cafe. Normal. Couple travel followed soon after. Together, they visited Africa, Australia, traversed most of Europe and had a drunken weekend in Bruges (or was that me?). Finally, they were married in 2004 and were soon blessed with babies. They bought a house, enrolled the kids in swimming classes and caught up with friends on the weekends. So far, life was good: all seemed normal.
Time passed, with some lovely couple moments interspersed: the occasional finishing of each others sentences; an uncanny ability to correctly order for the other; and the intimate splitting in half of the last slice of pizza. There was even some complete orange-dressed family moments, but given everyone in the Netherlands wears orange on days of national pride (the orange worn so prolifically for soccer matches is homage to the heritage of the Dutch Royal Family - the house of Oranje-Nassau), it never seemed as though anything was out of the ordinary. Looking at their past you could not have guessed what was to come when they moved to Seoul.
It was winter when they arrived. Cold and snowing. Boots and jackets were needed. His was blue, hers was purple. She got colder. She bought a thicker jacket. It was blue. "Because it was the thickest one there", she claimed. We believed her.
As Spring sprung, the matching colour jackets were put away and forgotten, or so they said. Spring brings with it a desperate need to join Seoul's fluorescent dressed crew and spend parts of one's weekend amongst the cherry blossoms in one of Seoul's many mountains or parks. Michiel and Marieke were no exception. Their love of hiking taking them across Seoul from palace wall to palace wall, from national park to national park, from Namsan Tower to the Secret Garden. As the weather got warmer still, we spotted matching brown loafers on their feet. "Just a coincidence", she said and put it down to the fact that it is hard to find shoes for bigger feet in Seoul. We had no reason to doubt them.
One sunny summer's day they invited us to join them for a family stroll up Bukhan Mountain in Bulgwang. Great views of the city, they promised. We gathered our crew, they gathered theirs and, as organised, we met at the designated subway stop only a few minutes late. The effect of the metro coffee I had grabbed en route was taking a while to penetrate my system (rough night before with one of our munchkins) so I was a bit slower than usual. Husband throughout had no idea (male observation skills being generally poorer in this regard). We greeted them, exchanging the traditional Dutch three kisses, and proceeded on our way. As we made our way up a very large hill, stopping briefly to eat a bunch of bananas, another family making their way back down insisted on giving us their picnic mat that they had finished with, such is the generosity of Koreans. We added that to our bags and kept walking. After another hour or so, with all six kids desperate for a drink, we rested on the steps of a Korean pagoda and that is when I noticed: Michiel and Marieke were love-matching! Complete outfit love-matching. Blue on top, khaki on bottom and those brown loafers. On both of them. At the same time. In public.
Planned? Yes. They alleged they had been urged on by my fascination with the trend and wanted to experiment whether there would be any reactions from Koreans if they, clearly a non-Korean couple, went out dressed in love-match (which, btw, there was not).
Shocked? Absolutely! But, when I recovered from my initial excitement of the moment (and had finished making them pose for numerous photographs), to be perfectly honest, I think it would be more accurate to describe my feelings more akin to jealousy. They insisted their love-matching made them feel no differently but I saw them and their conspiratorial glances at each other. Their same-same dressing gave them power. Their bond was strong. Their love was real. They were holding hands as we walked. They liked it. They will, I expect (and for the purposes of my blog I hope so), do it again. Perhaps there is nothing more romantic than, three kids later, ten years of marriage, living in three different countries, choosing to love-match.
Where does that leave me? I have three kids. I have almost ten years of marriage. But I don't have love-match. The other night I couldn't work out whose black UNIQLO heat tech thermal top I was putting away - was it husband's or mine because we both have one (I was also on strike from putting away his clothes so I had to make sure I had the right one in hand). This winter necessity is the closest we have got to love-matching so far and I don't think it really counts as it is more like underwear! Should I fear for our love in the meantime? Are we doomed if we don't start converging? I am after new sneakers for Christmas (navy blue New Balance with a bright blue trim would be perfect). Husband could also do with a new pair. In the interests of a long and happy life together, perhaps it is time?
Shocked? Absolutely! But, when I recovered from my initial excitement of the moment (and had finished making them pose for numerous photographs), to be perfectly honest, I think it would be more accurate to describe my feelings more akin to jealousy. They insisted their love-matching made them feel no differently but I saw them and their conspiratorial glances at each other. Their same-same dressing gave them power. Their bond was strong. Their love was real. They were holding hands as we walked. They liked it. They will, I expect (and for the purposes of my blog I hope so), do it again. Perhaps there is nothing more romantic than, three kids later, ten years of marriage, living in three different countries, choosing to love-match.
Where does that leave me? I have three kids. I have almost ten years of marriage. But I don't have love-match. The other night I couldn't work out whose black UNIQLO heat tech thermal top I was putting away - was it husband's or mine because we both have one (I was also on strike from putting away his clothes so I had to make sure I had the right one in hand). This winter necessity is the closest we have got to love-matching so far and I don't think it really counts as it is more like underwear! Should I fear for our love in the meantime? Are we doomed if we don't start converging? I am after new sneakers for Christmas (navy blue New Balance with a bright blue trim would be perfect). Husband could also do with a new pair. In the interests of a long and happy life together, perhaps it is time?
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| the happy couple |
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