Tinder, Bumble, and OKCupid are some of the popular dating websites frequented by young Americans looking for love these days. And while parents and friends of singles – especially aging singles – may still try to set their loved ones up with unattached others they think are compatible, “matchmaking” as an art is uncommon in modern-day Western society – with the possible exception of certain grandmothers. (I can just imagine the "I’m-going-to-pretend-you’re-not-my-mother" looks my kids would surely give me if I ever tried to set them up with anyone, no matter how wonderful.)
But in Japan, Korea and China, the art of matchmaking is alive and well. While traditional (as in mandated by the family) arranged marriages have become a rarity – in China, they have been illegal since the Mao-era 1950s Marriage Act outlawed them – many families in these countries use a matchmaker to introduce their offspring to eligible singles from similar backgrounds. This typically happens if their son or daughter has reached the ripe old age of 25 or so and has failed to find Mr. or Miss Right on their own.
In Japan, the practice of omiai has evolved from ancient times, when samurai families arranged marriages for their offspring to consolidate power and protect their wealth. Today, a reasonably well-off family may hire a nakado, or matchmaker, to vet and introduce possible matches to their son or daughter, in hopes that they will be compatible and decide to get married. This introduction process has come to be referred to as omiai, even though there is no marriage unless the young people themselves decide they want to marry.
In general, these singles will meet at least a few times before becoming engaged, and it is considered perfectly acceptable to request another match if the first few are not to one’s liking. While those involved are bound to feel a bit rejected, using a professional nakado alleviates the dreaded loss of face that would occur if a friend or family member had made the introduction. While some couples will even date for some time before deciding to marry, I was told by a Japanese friend in Tokyo that there is a certain time-limiting protocol to omiai.
“Meeting someone once or twice, it’s acceptable. But it is not so polite to agree to the third meeting unless your son or daughter is very serious about the other person. Our son was getting pretty old when he finally agreed to his first omiai, so we were very nervous each time he had the second meeting. Luckily, the third young lady he met agreed to a third meeting. Now we can relax a little, since even if she finds out that his stuffed animal collection is too big or that his room is very messy, probably they will still get engaged!” she declared happily, covering her mouth and giggling in that oh-so-Japanese way. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before I heard that her son was engaged – at the nearly ancient age of 28. (FYI, stuffed animals and all things kawaii, or cute, are very popular in Japan, and it’s commonplace for young people to live at home until they marry.)
In South Korea, as in Japan, marriages are seldom if ever arranged these days, but the practice of hiring a matchmaker to handle the process of making introductions – seon – is fairly common among educated, well-to-do families. But in Korea, the jung-me’s job is even more complicated than in Japan. Not only must the candidates’ bloodlines, finances, and education levels be compatible, so too, a couple’s “four pillars” must line up as well; the year, month, day, and hour of their births must be simpatico (as determined by examining astrological charts.) Sometimes the jung-me even hires a mudung, or Korean shaman, to consult the spirits of the ancestors to assure that the match is a good one.
While every parent hopes their son or daughter will marry someone compatible from a nice family, Japanese and Korean families often exert more influence over the process than most Western parents would feel comfortable doing because they view their children’s marriage almost like the uniting of two clans. They want their children to be happy, but they believe that happiness is only achievable if the couple is compatible AND the two families mesh.
In China, it is more common for parents to be the matchmakers, and there are even certain parks in Beijing and Shanghai where concerned mothers and fathers congregate to try to find matches for their single progeny. Imagine hoards of parents clutching their child’s photo and resume, enthusiastically scrutinizing one another’s offspring as they would gleaming strands of pearls at either city’s Hongqiao Pearl Market, and you’ve got the picture.
And what are the qualifications of a desirable marriage candidate? While education, job, attractiveness, and health are all still important, the average Chinese parent of a daughter is more concerned with material possessions than with family bloodlines, perhaps because the Communist Revolution in 1949 largely destroyed the class system (albeit the progeny of the top officials in the Communist Party have become a new class of “princelings.”) These days, the parents of a daughter will also expect a suitor to own a house or apartment and a car, or at the very least, to pay a hefty “bride price” – in addition of course, to having a bright future. In return, they must offer up a reasonably attractive, educated daughter who is still young, since sheng-nu – unmarried women past the prime age of 25 – are considered by the public and even the Chinese press to be “leftover women” or “yellowed pearls.”
If all this meddling in young people’s love lives seems shocking, remember that these societies are grounded in Confucianism (see my last post) so children have great respect for the will of their elders. I am told that many even welcome help from their parents in finding a suitable marriage prospect – unbelievable as this may seem. For those who don’t, one can always hire someone to act as a significant other, as some have been reported to do when returning home for Chinese New Year – all to avoid their parents' prying questions about their love life during their once-a-year (or less) pilgrimage back to their hometown.
For the small percentage of fuyudai, first generation wealthy, or fuerdai, second generation wealthy, who have made a lot money in the Middle Kingdom’s recent boom years, there are legions of “love hunters” who work tirelessly for hefty fees to find their clients the perfect matches, although this is a relatively recent phenomenon.
Naturally, many young men and women are able to find their own love match by other common means. Group dating parties are popular in both Japan and Korea, as is the practice of setting up friends on blind dates, although more so in Korea. Dating websites have also gained popularity in all three countries in recent years. But if the pressure to find that special someone is just too much and time is running out, maybe it's comforting to know they can always turn to a matchmaker for help…
