One of the most common form of entertainment in Korea is the Korean drama. This, surprisingly, is almost always about romance no matter what genre it is. If it's set in a hospital like "Doctors" (2016), the doctors are dating. If it's crime related like "Signal" (2016), the detectives are romantically involved.

They have a lot of influence on women--and their mothers--as the ideal model of life (and romance) of which we are told we dream. In the majority of these episodes, the characters reach the end of the story by marrying, as a final reward and a universal life goal. And it repeats in a whole new series with different attractive actors. A common diagram appears where often there is romance between four characters.

The heroine is a young woman, beautiful of course, a bit silly, but pure, who works hard to help her family who is almost always in need. She meets a rich, handsome man--successful, yet obnoxious in the most egocentric way possible--like the ones from "Heirs" (2013) and "Secret Garden" (2011). She naturally falls in love with such a charismatic person; however, this man’s brother/cousin/best friend who is just as handsome and successful as the lead realizes her true value as a person and falls desperately in love with her. But, despite the second lead’s respect and care, she will never see him.

Then, there is the fourth character, a beautiful woman, better educated, more comfortable in society, and rich, who loves the main lead and is willing to do anything to get him. She is independent, strong, feisty, and heavily demonized.

This sends two poisonous messages to young Korean women. First, that if the man is rich and handsome, he can be disrespectful, selfish, and controlling. It’s not a big deal though; it’s out of love.

However, a man who loves you with all his heart is desperate and unwanted. Second, that the strong, determined girl is almost always evil and that it’s better to be clumsy and beautiful. The bigger problem is that when living in Korea, you don’t realize how dangerous those beliefs are, at least I never did.

It was after coming to America that I realized if my date gets super protective and forbids me to talk to my guy friends, it's not cute. It's jealousy. If I am told to wear longer skirts and less makeup, it's because he is treating me like a possession.

I used to see myself as a bright, sociable person. I love to interact with new people and making new friends; I’m not exactly quiet, nor submissive, at least not to the Korean standards.

There’s nothing wrong with that, but somehow that becomes a problem when a romance comes into the equation. He would first approach me, expressing an interest in my outgoing personality, but sooner or later, that personality would be a complaint. He would ask “why do you have so many guy friends?” “Why can’t you stay at home instead of going to all those social gatherings?” “Why are you so strong willed?”

Some of my guy friends loved hanging out with girls whom they considered cool and funny, but that was limited to just friends, not girlfriends. These boys wanted girls who were smart and independent enough but also dependent enough to respect their choices and rely on them to make the final decision.

This appears in the contradictory expectations of female heroines of Korean dramas. The beautiful female lead is independent in her workplace, but in front of the male lead, she’s one step behind, submissive to his words. She should be resilient but needs to be rescued.

As a young teenager in Korea, I was left to wonder how I should act, sometimes resorting to what I knew: aegyo. Aegyo is a concept that women are expected to engage in when dealing with men. It is explicit; it’s acting in a cute, flirty way, and it’s often degrading because you are shrugging your shoulders in a child-like way and answering with a higher-pitched voice.

I would use aegyo to get what I want not only from significant others, but also guy friends and male family members. Aegyo was a tool for women and those who knew how to use it to live an easier life. In Korea, it came so naturally, but in America, the customs are different. To act like a child is weird and demoralizing to women.

On the other hand, the hook-up nature of America and the quick partner changes of the people around me confuses me greatly. Here, I become more shy and timid when interacting with male figures and wonder if I might have forced myself until now to be the independent, outgoing girl that I saw in the dramas.

Maybe I was always that helpless girl but tried hard to prove something, against my grandparents and parents who expected me to be quiet.

Just like the women I watch on television, I am full of contradictory desires, wanting to be my own self while that image is shaped by others’ opinions. I want to be unique, but also meet South Korean society’s standards of a proper woman.

I’m still learning how to balance the demands on women and my own dilemmas. But with the added American experience, I have a better understanding of the dating customs and how unrealistic my tv-shows are.