I spend about six months of each year in the United States. Perhaps that is one reason I increasingly meet Korean immigrants who are looking for Korean spouses, daughters-in-law, or sons-in-law.

One consultation in particular has stayed with me.

The woman was born in 1970. She had graduated from a university in Korea and built a career at a global company. She had moved to the United States more than twenty years ago and had been divorced for over a decade. While working and raising her two daughters on her own, she had eventually seen both of them go on to law school.

During our conversation, I asked her,

“You said you’ve experienced a lot of love in your life?”

She smiled.

“I loved as much as I wanted to. When it comes to love, I have no regrets.”

“But you eventually married an American man because you had become disappointed with Korean men?”

“Yes. When I was younger, I dated a high-ranking public official whose name many people would recognize. We cared deeply for each other, and I liked his mother as well. But one day, she told me that I should stop seeing her son.”

“Why?”

“She said she wanted a daughter-in-law who could help her son become more successful. In her eyes, I wasn’t someone who could do that.”

The woman understood that the mother wanted the best possible future for the son she had worked so hard to raise.

Still, those words hurt deeply.

“So the relationship ended?”

“Yes. And after experiencing similar things, I gradually became disillusioned with Korean men.”

Around that time, she began working for an international company.

“Because of the nature of the company, many of the executives were foreigners. I was approached by quite a few men and dated several of them.”

“And that’s how you met your American husband?”

“Yes. Eventually, I married an American man and moved to the United States.”

I asked what her husband had been like.

“He wasn’t a bad person.”

Then she paused.

“I have two daughters. When my younger daughter was a newborn, she cried constantly at night. One night, my husband woke up and kicked me in the stomach. He was angry that I hadn’t stopped the baby from crying and that his sleep had been disturbed.”

“Was that what led to the divorce?”

“It wasn’t just that one incident. There were many things. Ultimately, our personalities were too different, and the marriage ended.”

After the divorce, she worked while raising her two daughters largely on her own.

“But you continued dating?”

“Of course. I still feel young. Why should it be so difficult for me to meet someone?”

I laughed.

“Some women in their mid-fifties feel that the romantic part of their lives is already behind them. You clearly don’t see yourself that way.”

“Not at all. I still want to meet a good man.”

“Are you no longer interested in American men?”

She smiled.

“After being married to an American, I realized that what I personally want is a little different. I want more warmth in everyday life.”

“What do you mean?”

“In my experience, American men were often very practical. They might say ‘I love you’ often, but if I said I was sick, the response might simply be, ‘You should see a doctor.’ What I miss is the kind of small, affectionate gestures I associate with Korean relationships—someone asking where it hurts, touching your forehead to see if you have a fever, or saying, ‘I’ll go to the hospital with you.’”

I smiled.

“That may also be an idealized image of Korean men. You haven’t actually been married to one.”

“I’ve dated a few.”

“What were they like?”

“The most recent man I dated was energetic and active. I even considered marrying him, but family circumstances eventually got in the way. Another was a successful entrepreneur, but he was too interested in other women, so I ended the relationship.”

“Do you still keep in touch with your ex-husband?”

“No. My older daughter no longer has a relationship with her father, and only my younger daughter contacts him occasionally. I hear how he is doing, but he and I don’t communicate.”

I looked at her again.

She was slim, stylish, and youthful. At first glance, she could easily have passed for someone in her mid-forties.

“Seeing you in person, I can imagine you must have received a lot of attention over the years.”

“I’ve heard that quite often.”

“Then what kind of man are you looking for now?”

“Money itself isn’t that important. I can support myself comfortably. But I would like someone who has achieved something in his life—someone stylish, cultured, and sophisticated.”

I nodded.

“I think that kind of man would suit you. You don’t seem to be looking simply for companionship. You want someone whose life experience, confidence, and sensibilities are compatible with your own. Rather than waiting for a friendship to gradually turn into romance, you may be better suited to being intentionally introduced to someone accomplished and refined.”

Her expression brightened.

“That’s exactly it. That’s the kind of man I want. And this time, I want to marry a Korean man.”

After our conversation, one question remained in my mind.

She had lived independently for decades, raised two accomplished daughters, built her own career, experienced marriage and divorce, and knew exactly what she wanted from a relationship.

She was not simply looking for a Korean man.

She was looking for a Korean man who could match the life she had already built.

And I found myself wondering:

How many men would truly be the right match for a woman like her?