For Koreans, Offering Someone a Meal Is Practically a Confession
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“Mr. Heinz. I came to turn in the late assignment.”
The one handing over the homework was Jake. While the teacher was checking his assignment, Jake quietly asked me, “Not going home?”
“Oh, yeah. I should.”
Only then, as I was packing, Jake stared at me blankly and said, “Congrats.”
“Huh?”
“I said, congratulations. My friend was sulking because she didn’t even make it as a candidate, but you did.”
“...Yeah.”
So that’s his way of telling me not to be gloomy. Well, to others, it probably looked like something good. Forcing a smile, I said to Jake, “Thanks.”
And before tears could burst out, I hurried out of the classroom.
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* * *
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“You became a Homecoming Princess candidate?”
“...Yes.”
I felt like I should at least tell my parents, so I brought it up, and to my surprise, they welcomed the news with delight.
“It’d be great if you became the Homecoming Princess.”
Pfft.
At my father’s words, I spat out the water I was drinking.
“Oh my, here’s a napkin.”
While wiping the mess with the napkin my mother handed me, I looked at my father.
“You could add a line to your résumé. It might make you look like a sociable student. It’s a good opportunity.”
“…...”
“If you can, do your best to become the Princess, Chloe.”
“Yes, do your best. Our daughter can absolutely do it.”
I was speechless. Chloe’s parents really couldn’t see anything beyond college, could they?
“...Thank you for the meal.”
In the end, I couldn’t finish dinner and went up to my room. I felt like I’d get indigestion if I ate any more.
It's really a jungle out there.
I thought to myself as I lay on the bed after washing up. High school was truly the animal kingdom.
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* * *
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“Alright, everyone, check your positions!”
“Yes!”
Today was marching band practice day. In preparation for Homecoming, we practiced every Tuesday afternoon like this. Since next week was Homecoming Week, today’s rehearsal was especially intense.
“Hey, first flute!”
“Yes!”
“Step forward three more steps.”
“Yes!”
Marching band. I never knew it would be this tough. Not until I actually experienced it. It’s been six months now, but I still haven’t gotten used to it.
Good grief. How do they expect us to play and walk at the same time?
The entire orchestra had to move around, creating several large coordinated formations while playing at the same time. It was an insane kind of multitasking, exactly what marching band demanded.
“Alright, let’s go again!”
“Yes!”
The kids, full of energy, played their instruments with full focus and moved according to the teacher’s conducting. It seemed to be going well, but then the conductor suddenly stopped.
“I told you to play this part staccato. Let’s go again!”
“Yes!”
I think I heard that word, “again,” about twenty times already. It was exhausting… But Scott, without showing a hint of fatigue, held his trumpet, even laughing and joking around with the other trumpet players.
Is he actually enjoying this?
Then it happened.
“Chloe!”
“Yes…!”
“Two steps to the right.”
Ah, shoot. As I shuffled slightly to the side, the teacher gave me a thumbs-up.
“Let’s do it one more time!”
And so, the twenty-first “again” began. That day’s final practice didn’t end until almost nine at night.
“God, I’m dead tired…”
As I packed up my flute and left the orchestra room, my stomach growled loudly.
“Ugh, I’m starving…”
Hungry, cold, and sleepy. I felt like a total beggar. Then suddenly, something caught my eye.
“Hungry?”
Scott was smiling as he handed me a Subway sandwich.
“I only put in the ingredients you like.”
“...When did you buy this?”
“Oh, I had some time before practice started, so I went to get it.”
Scott grinned as he spoke.
“...Thanks.”
My chest tightened. To think he would give food to a hungry Korean. You’re such a good friend, Scott.
When I took the sandwich from Scott, he pointed toward the main gate.
“Then let’s go.”
“Huh?”
I paused mid-motion, the wrapper half-opened.
“Go where?”
Scott hesitated, looking like a child being scolded, and answered.
“...Home...?”
“Oh, weren’t we going to eat this first?”
When I lifted the sandwich, Scott spoke in a small, timid voice.
“I thought you’d eat it in the car. You looked tired, so I figured you’d want to go home right away... I’m sorry!”
There was no need to apologize. Scott’s flustered eyes trembled. I looked at his moist, dark brown eyes that seemed ready to spill tears if I pushed him any further, and I asked cautiously, “Can I eat in the car? It might get messy.”
Scott nodded vigorously.
“It’s fine, I can clean the car later.”
Then he added, “It’s more important that you don’t stay hungry.”
Wow. Did he just say something that hits a Korean right in the soul?
“Scott.”
“Y-yeah...?”
“Let me give you some advice, so listen carefully.”
As I whispered in a low voice, Scott shrank back, looking intimidated.
“Don’t say things like that to other Korean kids.”
“W-why...? Did I say something wrong?”
Scott swallowed dryly and asked, and I nodded vigorously.
“Yeah. Saying stuff like that carelessly is wrong. You only say that kind of thing in front of someone you like.”
Scott’s expression changed subtly. Did I scare him too much? He seemed so stiff that I gave his arm a playful nudge and added, “That’s called flirting. So be careful.”
I smiled teasingly, trying to ease the frightened Scott.
“...Really?”
But Scott’s low voice didn’t sound like he was relaxed at all.
“I see.”
That was all he said before quietly heading toward the main gate.
What was that? Did I take the joke too far?
“Hey, Scott! Wait for me!”
I took a bite of the unwrapped sandwich and ran after him.
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* * *
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After that, Scott started acting strange.
“Did you eat breakfast?”
In the mornings, when we met on the way to school, he would ask like that.
“Chloe, aren’t you hungry?”
During recess, he would say that and bring a protein bar. Then, eventually, he asked, “Chloe, what do you want for lunch?”
“Hmm. I’m torn between pizza and hot dogs.”
“Then I’ll order pizza. You order a hot dog and have some of my pizza.”
He said that. That clean freak wants to share food? No way.
“...Hey. Are you sick or something?”
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, and Scott began to stutter.
“Haha, me? Sick? N-no, I’m totally fine!”
I doubted it. If anything, he seemed more broken than usual. When I didn’t drop my suspicious stare, Scott awkwardly rubbed his head and tried to change the subject.
“Ah, then I’ll, uh, go get the pizza! See you in a bit!”
And off he went straight to the pizza line.
What the hell is he thinking?
Even though we’d gone to the same school since grade school, the old Chloe used to think the same thing about Scott.
Such a weird kid.
Still, he was my only friend, so I had to treat him well. Shaking my head, I got in line for a hot dog.
“Hey, nerd.”
Just then, I heard Kyle’s voice behind me. He jerked his chin toward another line.
“Rice is over there. Can’t you see straight with those slanted eyes?”
That was really something. I clenched the tray in my hand. If I smashed that jerk’s head with this tray, would I end up in jail? Would that count as aggravated assault just because it was a lunch tray?
In that fleeting moment, my bright Ivy League future and a prison sentence flashed back and forth in my head as I debated what to do. Then—
“Or just eat a dog[2].”
Some asshole I didn’t even recognize laughed behind me as he said it.
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TL Note:
1. For Koreans, offering someone a meal is practically a confession - In Korea, sharing food or offering a meal is a deeply personal gesture. It’s not just hospitality; it’s a symbol of care, warmth, and affection. Because eating together implies emotional closeness, saying something like “Let’s eat together” or giving someone food can carry romantic undertones, especially if it’s one-on-one. Hence, the saying “For Koreans, offering someone a meal is practically a confession” is a humorous but culturally resonant way to describe how meaningful sharing food can be in Korean social or romantic contexts.
2. eat a dog – This is deeply insulting to a Korean person because it invokes a long-standing racist stereotype that “Koreans eat dogs.” While dog meat consumption did exist historically in Korea, in modern Korean society, it’s rare and widely stigmatized, especially among younger generations. However, outside Korea, the stereotype has been used to mock or dehumanize Koreans, particularly by Westerners.
So when someone says “Or eat a dog, then” to a Korean, it’s not just rude, it’s a racial slur implying barbarism or savagery.
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