Two parents swap their children's information in Zhongshan Park in central Beijing. Photo: Li Hao/GT
Borderless relationship
It's not a coincidence that the show went viral. After all, it already has a ready-made audience of matchmaking parents. The show merely presents the reality of marriage in China, some argue.
But on the other hand, some young people say this representation of reality is a stark reminder of how much Chinese parents meddle in their children's personal affairs. Immediately after air, the show came under heavy criticism from netizens.
Among them was Shen Bing, a 28-year-old translator working in Hangzhou, East China's Zhejiang Province.
Every time Shen goes home for the holidays, her parents force her to go on blind dates with the candidates they have already picked out. Unfortunately, they aren't always to Shen's taste.
"Once, my mother and I went on a date with a policeman and his mother. He had yellow teeth and bad breath. I added him on WeChat and his photos are all of him drinking with his friends while topless," Shen said.
She tried talking to the man, but quickly found they had nothing in common. The man only talked about gaming, while his mother bragged about his good qualities.
Peng Xiaohui, a sexology professor at Wuhan's Central China Normal University, said it's understandable that young people are not in favor of these arranged dates. The parents may see this style of dating as a tradition, but most children think it's outdated and overly controlling because values have changed over time.
Educating one's parents
After putting up with her mother for years, Sarah Li (pseudonym) started taking action to "transform" her.
Li's father passed away two years ago after battling with cancer. In that period, both of them forced her to go on blind dates, sometimes several in a week, so her father could live to see her walk down the aisle.
Ever since he died, she's been trying to fight these arrangements. Sometimes she cried and screamed, sometimes she broke things and slammed doors, but nothing worked.
Li eventually talked her mother into going to therapy. First it was therapy provided by her company and all the attendees were her colleagues. Her mother complained about her "terrible dating record" in front of all her colleagues while she wept.
The second time she took her mother to an outside clinic, where the therapist told Li's mother that she should give her daughter some space, some boundaries. But her mother lost it and started yelling at the therapist hysterically.
"There should not be any boundaries! I am her and she is me!" she screamed.
Li sensed that her mother, like many parents of her generation, might need help to learn how to handle their relationship with their children and how to respect their privacy.
She started reading psychology books and forwarding her mother articles about family relationships once in a while, in hopes of changing her attitude. She opened up, telling her mother about her own feelings.
"So far I haven't succeeded entirely, but I'm trying," she said.
Her mother still nags her about the details of her life, sometimes asking her four times a day to contact a man after she has specifically and repeatedly refused. But she's seeing some minor signs that her mother is changing for the better, and she hopes for greater mutual understanding in their relationship.
But at least in the coming years, Chinese-style dating parks are here to stay. Their children's marriage still remains top priority for many parents, judging from concerned faces at the Zhongshan park.
Asked whether her son is okay with her showing his information to hundreds of strangers, a woman in the park hesitated and said, "I know he wants to find a girlfriend."
As the Global Times reporter walked around in the park gawking at placards, she was finally stopped by some people, asking if she had personally come to the park looking for a date. But after the reporter said "I have no Beijing hukou," they all left her alone.
