The night I drained my first glass, I opened my wallet in front of her. Inside were only two creased thousand-won notes. Dig deeper and only coins clinked out. Across the rim of her glass she let out something like a laugh—or maybe it was only a sigh. Either way, my cheeks burned. She said:
- Shall we move on?
In that instant I understood: this wasn’t mere poverty; it was me auditioning every possible way to look utterly worthless in her eyes.
The Pathetic Beast in the Mirror
Why do I always unravel like this only in front of her?
I knew the answer. These weren’t random misfortunes. I was intentionally engineering moments when I would appear most abject: leaving my wallet empty on purpose, oversleeping on purpose, stammering on purpose. Because each time I shrank, I sensed it—that fleeting glint in her eyes whispering, I should rescue this man. That was the reaction I craved. The desire to be saved was making me uglier by the minute.
Seung-min and the Nephew Photo
Thirty-two-year-old Seung-min had been nursing a two-month crush on Ji-yeon from the café next to his office. One lunch break she showed him a photo.
- My nephew’s first birthday. Cute, right?
All afternoon Seung-min maximized the baby’s flaws: a forehead too wide, a nose too small, stubby fingers. In truth he had no idea whether the child was adorable or not. Each time Ji-yeon lifted a bite of bread to her lips, self-loathing rose to the back of his throat. On the commute home he texted her:
[Do you know why I acted like that today? Because you seemed to love that baby. So I…]
No reply ever came.
Hyun-su’s Scalding Kimchi Stew
Twenty-nine-year-old Hyun-su reserved the treadmill beside Yoo-jin at the gym once a week. One day she asked:
- Want kimchi stew tonight?
His face flushed. Hyun-su had only one kidney; kimchi stew was off-limits. When he explained, Yoo-jin blinked and offered:
- Soybean stew, then?
That night he couldn’t swallow a single spoonful. Instead he performed the complete disintegration of a man: stomach cramps, constant restroom runs. Yoo-jin paid the bill and left. In the bar’s restroom Hyun-su cried, simultaneously wondering Why am I like this? and secretly hoping that if he looked pathetic enough, Yoo-jin would never abandon him.
The Psychology of the Beast Begging for Salvation
Psychiatrist Kim Hyun-jung notes: “Abjection can become a potent seduction code, especially for men who must maintain authority in a competitive society.” She calls this the ‘adversity-appeal strategy’: deliberately rendering oneself miserable to trigger the other’s rescue instinct. Psychologically it’s a cocktail of masochism and codependency. The sick conviction: the more I suffer in front of you, the less you can leave me.
Yet the strategy creates a bidirectional doom loop. Too abject and the other flees; the flight deepens the abjection; the relationship plunges toward catastrophe. Clinicians label it ‘self-sabotaging seduction’.
When did you look most pathetic in front of her? And in that instant, did you truly want her salvation, or had you manufactured your own ruin because you were desperate to be saved?