Sometimes my father takes me out for food and we talk about my life – or rather, lack of.
Every three months or so, my father takes me out for dinner,
just the two of us. Even though we pretty much sit down at the same table every
other night of the week to eat with the rest of our family, these dinners hold
a special meaning for the both of us. “Dinner date with my dearest baby!
Together we would have clocked only 82 years on this blessed earth!! No prizes
for guessing who contributed to most of that number… But can’t help but feel
younger tonight (grinning face with smiling eyes emoji)!!” was a Facebook
status he posted after one such tête-à-tête meal.
He’d make a reservation for half past seven at our usual
spot, where the waitstaff warmly greet him by name, the menu is consistently
fresh and good, and his daughter is never mistaken for his mistress. The
evening kicks off with a round of passion fruit martinis as he'd imitate someone intently contemplating between appetizers. When our waiter comes around again,
he’d place orders for the same three starters that we always share – raw
oysters, crab croquettes, and a Niçoise salad.
Once the last of the oysters is slurped down, it’d be time
to address the elephant in the room. He’d wave our waiter for a second glass of
martini before launching right in to ask me about my plans for life. The first
few times, I failed to pick up on his gestures for another drink as one’s cue
to get those ducks in a row. Taken by surprise, I’d responded with a shrug and
glazed eyes. And of course the infamous phrase cherished by teenagers all over
the globe, “I dunno.” Usually this would be cute. But seeing that I’m no longer
a teenager, my father remained utterly unimpressed for the most part.
But these days, I don’t need to be prompted. With a mouth
full of crabmeat and a drip of tartar sauce on my chin, I gush to my father between
bites, about what my next step in my career is going to be (big shot yoga pants
designer), that I’m saving up to buy a house (but handbags and shoes first),
that I see myself settling down and starting a family at 26 (current companionless situation
is not ideal, but I’m choosing to stay optimistic.) This amuses him, to say the
least.
As if mimicking the world we live in, my ambitious plans seem to be ever-changing. Having seen me through just about my entire life, my father describes
me as his “erratic, wayward and unpredictable child.” In his eyes and in his words, I’m “a
unicorn that cannot be trained.” He knows all too well that the next time we
chat, I would’ve probably decided to become a nutritionist instead and be
seriously flirting with the idea of celibacy. He has begrudgingly accepted that
my ‘life plan’, as he so sweetly calls it, really only goes as far as the day
after tomorrow.
Reckless, impulsive, irresponsible, and immature? Yaaassss.
But I take comfort in knowing that I’m not completely alone. If there’s one
scenario that’s become endemic amongst a sizeable group of 25 to 40-year-olds
today, it’s our collective decision to turn our backs on the milestones of adulthood
to exist in a state of prolonged adolescence instead, where we can avoid the
ball and chain of responsibility – marriage, mortgage, children, career – for
as long as possible.
If by the end of the night I appeared to be on the verge of
tears, my father would order us ice cream. If I didn’t, he’d order a cheese
platter. Whichever was served, I ate my heart out anyway over the grimness of my
future.
