Courtesy of Bundo Kim

A deep-seated sense of familiarity sets in as you age. Life becomes comfortable. The ego disappears. Anxiety fades. Things don't continually grab you with the fire that they once did and so you are left searching for that spark. Something that reminds you are still alive. Something that stops every song sounding the same, every movie playing out the same plot. You're left looking for that feeling you once had when you were 23. Because in your mind, you still are 23. Despite what the wrinkles say.

There's a connectivity between then and now. A thing called consciousness: memory. Of course everyone else looks at you like you're ancient. They question whether you know the meaning of rizz or have heard about Tik-Tok. But in your head, you're still 23. The same computer has been turned on the whole time, with all the tabs open, the cookies accepted, the viruses caught, and the screensavers enacted every time you black out.

But the streets don't change. The familiar smell rises up from the Kakao taxis. The kimchi stains similarly. The soju has changed its branding but the hangovers are the same. The cigars are less frequent but still pack the same punch. Life feels explored. And then you meet someone new.

I never knew

You don't know what you don't know. You spend your whole life going over the same records, the same authors. Falling back into the same habits and retreating into the same dreams and fears. You are a creature of habit.

You want to imagine that you are the special occasions. The fleeting moments of inspiration and ridiculousness. "Do you remember when I did that?!" you will ask people for the umpteenth time. They will smile and nod politely in the hope that you will return the favor when they repeat the stories they like to tell about themselves. But those idiosyncrasies are not us. We are the mundane behavior. We are who we are when no-one is looking.

We think we are our Insta stories. For some, they are the only interactions they will have with us. They will see the moments designed for sharing; the occasions deemed worthy of the public. But, in a beautiful mind fuck, we are everything but our Insta stories and social media posts. We are the music in between the notes. We are the classroom when the teacher leaves.

And this is why we have friends. Because they can see us. They can tell us when we're getting fat. When our comments are a bit out of line. When we're spending too much time and money on that thing we shouldn't. Friends see us for what we actually are, not what we think we are or what we want other people to see. In that sense, they have a wonderful position of privilege. The same privilege is extended to those visiting Korea. I'm so fortunate to constantly be treated to Korea as seen through the brand new eyes of friends.

Those eyes

Korea is not what you think it is. Some people make money out of selling an image of the country to people who should know better. And for those of you who read every article, watch every YouTube video, and follow every twitter and TikTok account, you'll never really know what the country is like unless you experience it. That sounds cold, exclusionist, and not very nice. It sounds like those here have a special inside privilege of what it means to be Korean and live Korean culture. And that's kind of true.

But it's not the whole story. Having been here for such a long time, read all the books, seen all the changes, and been part of trying to explain what Korea is to a growing number of people, it's so god-damn interesting to get the first impressions of the country from people fresh off the plane. Here's one of the most surprising things they say:

"Couples are everywhere!"

I love this one because if you follow a lot of the English-language media and influencers you would imagine that all the men are incels locked up in their rooms and unable to speak to people. They are intent on despicable acts and one bad day away from prison. The women, on the other hand, are feminists determined to act out a gender revolution of the country and usurp the patriarchy that has been here since it was implemented by the brutalities of Confucianism, colonization, civil war and neo-liberalism. You see these ideas reflected in comments below the content as well. It all becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy; a hyperreal version of Korean reality created by multimedia corporations such as the BBC as well as individuals who have learned that this is how you make money.

And yet!! Spend a few weeks in the country and you'll come away thinking, "Will these people not get a room?" You'll see couples standing on the subway, gazing into each other's eyes like they're acting out a scene from a K-drama. They will stroke each other's hair and pretend that the outside world has disappeared from view. The man will carry the bags. The woman will have her hair permed, her nails done. There might even be some couple clothes going on.

It's not a K-drama in appearance. Not everyone looks like Han So-hee and Kim Soo-hyun. But in vibe and behavior, it's often not far away. Couples hold hands. They snap photos and 0.5s together. They whisk down the street, skipping almost, on their way to their latest dating course.

I'm so adjusted to life here that I no-longer think of couple clothes or all of this dating as a thing of interest. It has faded into view. It has become comfortable and part of the background noise we can block out in life. But for those who are new, they tell me with their mouths agape, "I'm happy for you guys but….please. Stop it. I'm trying to just take the subway and all your dating and PDA is right in my face."

These people come from abroad. They are used to topless beaches and so on. And yet some still tell me that the public displays of affection here are too much for them. It makes them miss their partners back home. It makes them feel single. Who is holding their hand? It feels a bit too on the nose when seen up close.

So when I hear these accounts of Korean dating and life, I always wonder why there are so many stories about Koreans being single, sad and self-interested. I would imagine that some of it is because people writing and producing these stories not only gain clout from such a narrative, they also see that Korea around them. They are single and so they see singledom everywhere and want others to feel, live and know that single life.

So if you're someone that reads about Korea from abroad, don't be fooled by the news. There's a lot of love here. So much so in fact that it can be quite uncomfortable for those that don't have it. Especially when it's dressed in matching clothes and taking selfies while you're trying to eat your lunch.

David A. Tizzard has a doctorate in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social-cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the "Korea Deconstructed" podcast, which can be found online. He can be reached at datizzard@swu.ac.kr.