The Woman Who Still Wants To Marry: Episode 3

by javabeans

This is shaping up to be a fun, amusing drama — somewhat light, but not necessarily empty. With the phrase “wants to marry” in the title, naturally romance is a recurring theme, but I actually like that this drama is more about the friendships between the three women. The romances are (so far) on the side. With the friendship at the core, the drama’s appeal hinges on a likable dynamic between these three. Thankfully the ladies have an endearing chemistry.

SONG OF THE DAY

Kim Bum – “내 기타줄 끊은 여자” (The Woman Who Cut My Guitar String), which is the song his character writes in the drama. [ Download ]

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EPISODE 3 RECAP

Stress causes Shin-young’s face muscles to seize up, and her jaw twists (official term: Bell’s palsy, a nerve affliction), so she is forced to take a week off work. She seeks treatment at an Oriental medicine hospital, where she asks for the best doctor and gets Na Ban-seok. (I LOVE that Bu-ki whips out her camera to take a shot of Shin-young’s twisted face.)

Full recovery may take up to three months of continual treatment, and Ban-seok gets started on the acupuncture. He warns her that the most important factor to wellness is remaining stress-free and relaxed.

Shin-young is lying in bed with needles jutting out of her face when the phone rings. Unfortunately, she can only mumble through clenched teeth and her words are unintelligible, so Min-jae is offended when she hangs up on him. She texts him back– but he’s further insulted at the curt message requesting that he text her his question.

In annoyance, Min-jae calls back, and she answers — but again, her words come out as mere “Mmmmmpf!” grunts, and he assumes she’s been drinking. Again this call is cut short. Furthermore, Ban-seok warns her not to talk during treatment and turns her phone off.

So Min-jae gets her automated message indicating that the phone has been shut off. Peeved, he goes to her workplace, UBN studios, to look for her. One of the younger women recognizes him and excitedly introduces herself as a fan.

Shin-young’s co-workers are curious to know why such a young hottie would be looking for her, and inform him that she’s on leave for her facial paralysis.

Determined to get married within the year, Da-jung seeks out a matchmaker, who has a great match lined up but expresses a few reservations because of her age. Da-jung is open to getting a physical, until the woman says that the man wants her to visit an ob-gyn to check out whether she’s ever been pregnant or miscarried. This is offensive, and Da-jung walks out. Next, she is turned away by a dating service because they don’t have any men fitting her requirements.

Feeling morose, she strolls along a bridge and shouts to the water, “Sorry for being successful! Sorry for making good money, you mean jerks!” In response, a police car pulls over, as though worried she’ll jump. Startled, Da-jung runs off.

Shin-young is better today — she can mumble half-intelligibly — but stubbornly remains in bed despite Bu-ki’s attempts to rouse her. Bu-ki wonders why she’s so gloomy — what is she so afraid of? Shin-young retorts, “Everything!”

Bu-ki puts things in an optimistic light: Everyone has dark periods, but in the long run they prepare you for brighter changes to come. This does not lift Shin-young’s spirits, and she sighs, “I’m tired of expending energy uselessly now.” She thinks she’s lost the opportunity to get married, and as time goes on, she’s also losing confidence.

Pragmatic as ever, Bu-ki responds, “Losing the chance to marry means you’ve lost the chance to divorce, so that’s not all bad. And you can always regain your confidence. It’s simple.”

After her disheartening day, Da-jung goes to the spa for a rejuvenating facial: looking younger will better prepare her to attract a man. (She looks to Bu-ki for confirmation of its effects; Bu-ki replies dryly, “Your face just looks red to me.”)

Over drinks at a pojangmacha, Bu-ki wonders why Da-jung wants to marry so badly. Anyone can marry if you just lower your standards enough, so marriage itself is nothing special, but not everyone can have professional success. But Da-jung says, “I think I’ve succeeded enough.” Men avoid her because they’re intimidated by a woman who is successful and independently makes good money. She wants to marry while she can still have kids, before she’s too old to mother them. Da-jung asks Bu-ki to introduce her to some men, flattering her to get her to agree.

Min-jae and Ban-seok meet at the gym, and their conversation affords another glimpse into their relationship. Ban-seok is ten years older, and he’d been responsible for straightening Min-jae out before he turned into a problem kid.

Thinking of Shin-young, Min-jae asks if Ban-seok has ever heard of facial paralysis. Ban-seok explains that it’s often caused by stress, particularly if the person is sensitive. Min-jae thinks, “But she doesn’t seem sensitive,” which is a concept Ban-seok corrects — you can’t judge that from someone’s outer appearance. A person can be tender-hearted and sensitive on the inside.

This makes Min-jae stop and think about it a little more; clearly he’s intrigued by Shin-young, though he hasn’t figured her out yet.

Bu-ki makes good on her promise, and sets Da-jung up on a series of dates. One after another, they fall flat, mostly because Da-jung is extremely picky. After each failed match-up, Bu-ki dutifully tries a new date, but there’s always something wrong. The first guy is bald, the second guy is from a religious family, the third is 10 cm shorter than her.

Shin-young goes in for follow-up sessions with Ban-seok, and improves steadily until the paralysis has mostly worn off. She’s happy because now she can get back to work and her normal life, and is eager about the prospect about not coming in every day. However, Ban-seok feels a curious letdown at her reaction (as though taking it personally that she doesn’t want to come by every day), and urges her to keep up with treatments every other day.

When she gets back to work, she’s in for an unhappy surprise — her planning team is in danger of being broken up. After such a long absence, the members have agreed to join (or want to join) new/better teams, which would leave her without a staff.

Grimly, she faces her teammates, saying that she understands what they’re thinking, that she should give in gracefully and leave UBN now (leaving room for the others). As a single woman, she doesn’t have a family or husband to support, like they do. Shin-young concedes that yes, she’ll probably leave UBN at some point — but not now. If she leaves, she won’t ever be able to rise higher than this mid-level position. Her chance to marry is fast slipping away, plus her ex is getting married today — she refuses to sink any lower than this. This is her planning team and if her ratings turn out low and she fails, she’ll quit then. So for now, they stay.

She’s wrong about one thing, though: At the wedding hall, Sang-woo sits amidst empty tables and looks at a photo of them together. He thinks, “Shin-young. Actually, I called off the wedding. I realized the person I really love is you. Forgive me, will you?” He starts to call her, but decides against it.

Back at the office, Shin-young’s co-workers inform her that Ha Min-jae had dropped by to see her. They swoon over him and suggest that they ask him to do the music for their program. Shin-young, however, isn’t impressed and replies that he’s ill-mannered; she has no idea what people see in such a rude kid.

She’s the only one who thinks that, though. At the university, a group of giggling schoolgirls waits for him; one girl shyly gives him a bouquet of flowers, promising to come to his upcoming show. He’s not outright rude, but tells them coolly to study instead of seeking him out like this.

He walks into class late, interrupting Shin-young’s lecture, and lays the bouquet on her podium. Naturally, the class Ooohs knowingly. He says (sounding purposely cryptic, I think), “Sorry for calling you like that the other day.” Puzzled, she wonders why he’s apologizing for that now, and Min-jae leans in close, as though to share a secret. He whispers that he wanted to see her now that she’s back to normal, which prompts more tittering from the students.

He then takes a seat and calls out to her, “I didn’t tell anyone about it.” Again, his deliberate mysteriousness makes their encounter sound more suggestive than it actually was.

Shin-young takes her class in to UBN for a tour of the studio. Min-jae smiles to himself, as though enjoying seeing Shin-young in her element. He certainly doesn’t lack for confidence, so it’s fun seeing him taken down a peg. When Shin-young asks if anyone wants to try sitting in the anchor chair, she asks which student has the most presence. Min-jae teases, “You shouldn’t talk so pointedly about me” and starts to step forward, but Shin-young ignores him and calls another student forward. Ha.

One of the other PDs asks for a moment with Min-jae, so she gives her students a break while the PD asks if Min-jae would appear on a program he’s working on. A bit uncomfortably, Min-jae declines, saying that he’s not interested in going on television. The PD asks if he can use his Youtube video, and Min-jae deflects by saying he’s in class right now, so he’ll think about it later.

Shin-young watches this from a distance, slowly starting to see that Min-jae commands a lot of attention. Perhaps she’d underestimated him after all.

Later, she goes online to check out Min-jae’s performance video, and admits to her co-worker (the avid fan) that she hadn’t realized he was famous in indie circles. She didn’t know he wrote all his own songs, either.

Sensing her interest, the co-worker offers to take her along to the concert. Shin-young turns her down at first, but ends up letting herself be dragged along. At the club, she watches dispassionately until Min-jae’s introduction perks her interest — his new song is titled “The Woman Who Cut My Guitar String.” He explains that it’s based on a real-life encounter: he’d been working on a pretty good song when this strange woman came in and cut his guitar string.

Kim Bum – “내 기타줄 끊은 여자” (The Woman Who Cut My Guitar String)

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Okay, so not the best song. But let’s pretend it is, for the sake of Min-jae’s reputation as a musical genius.

Truth be told, she’s pretty impressed, and inside her head she’s willing to admit he’s pretty talented. But she’s not ready to concede that out loud, and asks her co-worker grudgingly, “What’s so great about this song?”

Shin-young leaves the show shortly thereafter, but something (or rather, the song) makes her change her mind. By the time Min-jae leaves the club, she’s waiting outside on the street. After the initial surprise passes, he’s back to his cocky ways: “Wasn’t it cool?”

Making the lame excuse that she was just passing by, she comments, “It sounds like you wrote that song because of me.” He asks, “Were you waiting all this time to buy me coffee?” Ignoring her stammers of denial, he leads her away.

Shin-young says he ought to be grateful for her for inspiration. She can’t hold back her curiosity, and persists in asking: Did he write the lyrics on the spot, or later? He asks, “Are you just curious because you’re a reporter? Or are you interested in me?”

Min-jae enjoys pushing her buttons, because her reaction to his roundabout answers (and his flirting tone) is impatience and irritation. Finally he explains that yes, he wrote the song because of their meeting. (Also, he used the words “guitar string” rather than the more appropriate guitar “cable” because it’s easier to understand.) When she complains that he took a long time to answer a simple question, he answers, “This way, I get to see your face a little longer.”

She retorts, “Want to write a song called ‘The Woman Who Poured Coffee On My Face’?” Undaunted, he challenges her: “Give it a try. I’ll give you a big kiss.” She narrows her eyes. He urges her to go on, saying he’s looking forward to it. But when she flicks her open cup toward his face, he flinches. (It’s empty.)

She gets up to leave, sighing, “It’s my fault for asking a serious question.” She warns him to keep his mouth shut and not come to class anymore, as he’d promised earlier.

Bu-ki invites Shin-young and Da-jung to a restaurant’s opening. The ladies mingle with the other guests, Da-jung keeping an eye out for eligible bachelors. Too bad she gets a little ahead of herself, because she’s mortified when she finds out that the guy she’s flirting with was born in 1988. Worse yet, she lied about her age, saying she was born in 1985, which has shaved a good nine years off her real age. She can’t keep up the lie since he came with someone who recognizes her.

Shin-young and Da-jung cut out early, deciding to pig out on snacks at home. They split up to buy their favorite late-night snacks, and will meet up back at the apartment.

On her way home, Shin-young finds Sang-woo waiting to intercept her. She isn’t pleased to see him, not even when he confesses that he called the wedding off, and that he’d sent her the invitation on purpose so that she would see for herself that it was canceled.

Shin-young: “What would change if I saw that?”
Sang-woo: “Forgive me and take me back.”
Shin-young: “Do you think you can just leave me when you want, then come back to open arms?”
Sang-woo: “Do you know what my life’s biggest mistake was? Opposing when you went abroad. Thinking that you didn’t love me.”
Shin-young: “Do you know what my life’s biggest mistake was? Loving a man like you. Mistaking you for my soulmate.”
Sang-woo: “I’ll show you that it wasn’t a mistake. Give me another chance.”
Shin-oung: “I have a boyfriend I want to marry.”
Sang-woo: “Break up. I did.”

She kicks him: “Even if I stay single forever, I won’t go back to you!” He persists, saying that he knows she’s not dating anyone and promising, “I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever.”

No surprise that Shin-young comes home in a dark mood, and reaches for the liquor. She fumes — how she could go back to him when he ripped her heart out?

Da-jung tells her to be calm and go back to him, which doesn’t help calm her down any. To marriage-obsessed Da-jung, it’s better for Shin-young to think calmly and take him back (and marry). Shin-young is not having it, and in her fit of temper, her facial paralysis strikes again.

This means more acupuncture treatments. Shin-young had stopped going back for follow-up visits, to Ban-seok’s dismay, thinking that all was well. Ban-seok had been depressed when she’d stopped coming, despite his firm stance on not dating clients or even seeing them in a romantic light. This time, he’s cheered by her vow to come by every day this week, and she improves again.

The encounter leaves Ban-seok mooning over his crush, thinking, “I feel strange. I have feelings for a patient. I must be crazy.”

Min-jae doesn’t think it’s such a big deal. Is she pretty? Is she interested back? Is she available? Ban-seok answers that she is pretty, she doesn’t seem to dislike him, and he isn’t sure of her dating status. However, he shouldn’t feel this way about a patient in the first place, and ought to get rid of his feelings. Min-jae scoffs that the reason Ban-seok hasn’t been able to date is because he’s so conservative.

Ban-seok sighs, “Whenever I see her, I feel excited and happy. My hand shakes when I put the needles in.” Min-jae jokes that if his shaking hand makes a mistake, he might give her facial paralysis. Ban-seok replies that that’s actually the reason she came in for treatment.

Thinking it’s a funny coincidence, Min-jae tosses out, “It’s not Lee Shin-young, is it?” Ban-seok asks, surprised, “How do you know?”

Intensifying her efforts, Da-jung drags Shin-young along to a fortunteller/guru to diagnose why they have been unable to marry. Shin-young remains skeptical at his general remarks (earning the fortuneteller’s disdain), because anyone could have guessed that their age is a factor.

The man concludes that they need an exorcism, which merits another skeptical reaction from Shin-young. Da-jung, however, eats this all up, eager to do whatever she has to. She’s spurred by the fortuneteller’s hazy prediction that he sees men in their future who will com “as soon as the road opens.” But in order for that to happen, they need to clear it via exorcism.

Neither Bu-ki and Shin-young are persuaded, but they reluctantly tag along on the exorcism outing, dressed all in red per the fortuneteller’s instructions. They prepare excuses in the event they should need to justify their presence: Shin-young is merely here covering a story, and Bu-ki is surveying the land.

Da-jung throws herself into it optimistically, but the other two question the fortuneteller’s chants, wondering if he’s legit. He grows offended (probably because he’s mumbling nonsense and is uncomfortable with the scrutiny), saying their lack of faith is why they can’t marry.

And so, they step aside and wait for Da-jung to finish, but the fortuneteller says he’s “lost the feeling.” Taking this opportunity to blame it on the two doubters, he sneaks up on them and beats them with a stick, while Da-jung begs them to just go along with it.

And just then, they’re swarmed by a crowd of reporters, who have been watching from the outskirts. Cameras are thrust in their faces and the reporters bombard them with questions about the man’s violent tactics.

The women cover their faces in mortification — they all have their public images to think about! — and try to run, with difficulty, away from the reporters.

 
COMMENTS

This episode continues with the refreshing tone; the story has comedy, which isn’t entirely slapstick but not entirely dry wit, either. It’s somewhere in between, sort of like in Soulmate. Some gags are played for the physicality, but the humor really comes from the dialogue and the easy, entertaining relationships of the three leads.

Of the three, Da-jung is definitely my favorite, even if (or because?) she’s the most flawed. She may be materialistic and picky, but Eom Ji-won plays her with such sunny appeal that she’s still quite likable. (The equivalent characters in series like My Sweet Seoul and Romance Hunter, on the other hand, drove me batty with their snooty attitudes. So this is definitely an area where the actress makes a huge difference in bringing the quirkiness to life.) I like that she’s selfish in an honest and open way, which keeps her from being disingenuous.

Bu-ki has an interesting backstory, so while we have seen her the least, I am digging her character, too. I haven’t been struck with Wang Bit-na’s acting in the past, so this role really suits her. I enjoy her dialogue the most, since it’s dry and cynical (but not bitter!). Still, you understand where she’s coming from because of her past experience being the slavish, eager-to-please girlfriend.

Shin-young is the straight woman so she’s not as offbeat as the others, and to be honest I’m not sure she’s written with a lot of depth (yet), but I like the way Park Jin-hee plays her. She’s aware of her age but not frightened of it, nor is she dismissive of it. It matters and she’s aware of the restrictions society places on single women of her station, but it doesn’t define her.

This may seem an obvious point but I think a key factor of this drama’s marriage theme isn’t that these women are husband-crazed or desperate to find their soulmates. Not even Da-jung, really. For all intents and purposes, marriage in this drama is more about the opportunity to marry, not the act itself (which is what Shin-young is half-mourning in the early scene. To some extent this is true in all dramas, but I think this one makes a particular distinction between marriage and love.

Choi Chul-ho has been playing cold bastards recently, so how great is he to embrace the opposite with this innocent, awkward bachelor character? He reminds me of Sohn Hyun-joo, who also had a history of playing ill-mannered men before he took on the pure, kind eldest son in Sol Pharmacy. Had you not seen his earlier work, you might have thought it was an easy, simple character to play, but in the context of his career, it’s more impressive. And Kim Bum — I think this is the most adorable he’s been since Unstoppable High Kick. It’s like the best mix of all his characters thus far, without going overboard on any one trait — he has the boyish charm from High Kick, the playboy flirtiness of Boys Before Flowers, yet also a new maturity that he’s been attempting in stuff like Dream that (in my opinion) never really fully materialized.

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