Celebrity 
3
When a Prude Meets a Libertine? The fun is anything but casual.
[I have a personal rule never to write a review before I finish the series. Yet, I write this review after catching only 5/10 episodes of “Make Me Tingle.” After all, if one wants to transgress some personal standard, what better type of show to inspire experimentation than one that blatantly challenges society’s sexual norms? While thick description of plot and character follow, I do try to minimize outright spoilers. In any event, I’ve yet to see the second half of episodes, so none of that can be spoiled here. You’ll just have to watch.]
Make Me Tingle exemplifies many of the traits that endear worldwide audiences to K-drama. The 10-episode series also exemplifies many of the theories discussed in any “history of sexuality” lecture hall. In fact, I could not imagine a better vehicle to combine those very different “entertainments” than what Make Me Tingle turned out to be. I strongly recommend this series for its witty script, its clashing characters, and the even-handed manner in which it makes any viewer rethink their notions of sexual propriety and sexual possibility.
Above all, the series unspools a cracking fun romantic K-drama. The story features the customary mix of tropes and fantasy that make K-dramas outstanding escapist entertainment. The central romance crosses a woman raised to mistrust physical contact with men outside of marriage with a man whose upbringing leads him to mistrust romantic love. One is a prude; the other, a libertine. And THAT is an outstanding start for any K-drama formula that will follow. And the series does manifest formulaic beats familiar to viewers acquainted with the genre’s tendencies. One lead is a CEO; the other, that company's employee. One lead is afraid of the dark; the other, afraid of appearing improper. Both have issues with their families. This iteration of those common tropes mostly succeeds.
The FL, Kong Yeon Su, lives in her grandfather’s home, along with her brother, grandmother, mother, and aunt. Portrayed as an over-the-top devotee of traditional Korean gender values, Kong Grandfather rules the multi-generational household like a patriarch of old. Women have been taught to serve their fathers, brothers, and husbands in clear subservience. Daughters need never trouble themselves with dating because their marriages will be arranged to suit family needs anyway. As a result, Yeon Su is a 30-something virgin who has never dared to rebel against the system into which she was born. If tempted to disobedience, she need only look at how the family treats her aunt, now divorced from her own arranged matrimony, to understand any rebellion comes with a price. She does have a secret boyfriend, but she has resisted his every entreaty for their years-long relationship to escalate to include physical intimacy because “proper women” simply don’t do such things. (Understandably, the frustrated boyfriend is pretty sure no contradiction exists between pre-marital sex and female respectability.) The only sense in which a viewer might regard Yeon Su as a woman with one foot in modern times arises through her professional accomplishments. She has forged a career as a successful marketer.
The ML, Dokgo Dal, is CEO of a small start-up that manufactures sex toys. The company embraces an outlook on sexual politics and sexual freedom that leads “respectable” segments of Korean society to look askance at the whole endeavor. (How progressive is the company? The office contains a space where employees can “test drive” the company’s products.) Outside of work, Dal eschews dating in favor of a string on one-night stands. Disillusioned about love by his father’s multiple failed marriages—Dokgo Dad is on Wife #4—Dal long ago soured on the whole notion of romantic love. He definitely believes sexual pleasure can exist independent of romantic attachment.
Make Me Tingle is largely a workplace comedy. Since any small start-up enterprise will benefit from the contributions of an ace marketer, the plot swiftly contrives for Yeon Su to join the firm as a contract worker. Overcoming her discomfort with the nature of the products, Kang Yeon Su quickly becomes immersed in the company’s efforts to make their wares seem less sordid and more "part of a balanced life." Office discussions on how to market the sexcessories (which are on screen a lot) sometimes lead to substantive discussion about the appeal sex toys can hold for all types of customers, from singles to long-married pairs. By K-drama standards, some of these discussions are refreshingly frank. As both Yeon Su and Dal begin to feel the inevitable tug of mutual attraction expected in any K-drama plot, their conflicting views on the role of sex and romance in dating lead them to debate whether the sex act can be disassociated from romantic love. Dal thinks “date night” implies a one-night stand. Yeon Su believes “date night” entails convivial conversation paired with food. “How is that different from lunch with co-workers?” he pointedly asks her.
For all that sexual mores tend to be taught to each new generation as if they are fixed principles, in reality each new generation (at least in modern times) finds itself confronted with rapidly evolving norms for "appropriate" that may render the elder generation out-of-touch. Since generational conflict is a routine feature of K-drama anyway, the genre is ideally suited to illustrate how evolving sexual norms create a clash between "what should be" and "what is." The writers incorporate a number of conundrums not terribly uncommon in contemporary society: characters debate the necessity of condoms to avoid pregnancy; how to support an unexpectedly pregnant girlfriend; how to foster a sex-positive attitude in a teen while discouraging them from having sex too young; and the importance of respect and communication to foster a healthy sexual dynamic between two people. Yeon Su must even struggle with how much to reveal to her grandparents about the nature of her new workplace. She felt a reasonable compromise would be "they make exercise equipment," only to have her mother and grandmother offer to buy one each. "Wait, mom," says Yeon Su's mother to her own mother, "Why buy two when we can just share?"
Meanwhile, a central goal of any course dealing with the history of sexuality centers on getting students to appreciate the clash between prescriptive norms (how society expects people to behave) and descriptive norms (how folks actually behave). Less salacious than it sounds, “the history of sexuality” tends to focus, like any other type of history, on change over time. That might include issues such as:
• How dating and courtship norms shift with changing economic systems.
• How the institution of marriage adapts to wider changes in the social fabric.
• How notions of “proper” masculinity and femininity evolve to reflect those other norms.
• How new types of identity and behavior challenge established ways of leading a life.
More than any other series I can think of, the story frame for Make Me Tingle lends itself to illustrating issues such as those. Indeed, the series leans full force into generational conflicts since the main characters’ respective outlooks represent a kind of inheritance.
Yeon Su’s sheltered conservative background embodies the prescriptive side while Dal’s upbringing reflects descriptive norms. That the series manages to incorporate these “lessons” so seamlessly into a romantic comedy reflects how skillfully the writers pieced together this tale. They never portray either Yeon Su or Dal as obviously right or obviously wrong. Instead, the opposing worldviews come across as differences in philosophy. If standard K-drama formulas require a mismatched pair to spar in early episodes, then the sexualized content of this series offers ample ground for that. This duo spars over questions like whether sex can/should occur without love attached, or whether sex can/should be pursued as a neutral form of human entertainment—just another type of “exercise.” Episode 3, all by itself, delivers an incredible dialog in which each party sets forth their world view. I don’t know whether the scene delighted me more for demonstrating principles I teach or for manifesting a classic K-drama trope with verve and wit.
Many K-dramas portray sexuality with a heavy bias toward prescriptive norms. (Likely to avoid offending sponsors!) That is why so many series feature 30-year old female virgins, unmarried adults living with parents, and characters who act shocked at forms of intimacy western viewers would dismiss as ordinary. The characters may indulge the shocking behavior anyway—but as long as someone on screen has registered disapproval, propriety has been served. Make Me Tingle seems aware of all these customary restraints and somewhat gleefully subverts them by bringing them into the open. The old-fashioned patriarchy championed by Yeon Su’s grandfather should remind us all that much of what society deems right/wrong with respect to sexual conduct actually manifests as notions of proper manhood and womanhood. Gender circumscribes our choices in life. Yeon Su remains a virgin BECAUSE she is a woman; Dal is free to hook up as he pleases BECAUSE he is a man.
With the series at its midpoint, and both leads feeling the tug of mutual attraction, I am sure the two will find a way to resolve their differences, overcome family opposition, and save the company. Because a happy ending (for love!) is part of the K-drama formula, too. Based on the first five episodes, I gleefully look forward to more debates on the tug between casual sex and sex in a committed relationship.
And, just maybe, they will find a way to portray both in a positive light?
Make Me Tingle exemplifies many of the traits that endear worldwide audiences to K-drama. The 10-episode series also exemplifies many of the theories discussed in any “history of sexuality” lecture hall. In fact, I could not imagine a better vehicle to combine those very different “entertainments” than what Make Me Tingle turned out to be. I strongly recommend this series for its witty script, its clashing characters, and the even-handed manner in which it makes any viewer rethink their notions of sexual propriety and sexual possibility.
Above all, the series unspools a cracking fun romantic K-drama. The story features the customary mix of tropes and fantasy that make K-dramas outstanding escapist entertainment. The central romance crosses a woman raised to mistrust physical contact with men outside of marriage with a man whose upbringing leads him to mistrust romantic love. One is a prude; the other, a libertine. And THAT is an outstanding start for any K-drama formula that will follow. And the series does manifest formulaic beats familiar to viewers acquainted with the genre’s tendencies. One lead is a CEO; the other, that company's employee. One lead is afraid of the dark; the other, afraid of appearing improper. Both have issues with their families. This iteration of those common tropes mostly succeeds.
The FL, Kong Yeon Su, lives in her grandfather’s home, along with her brother, grandmother, mother, and aunt. Portrayed as an over-the-top devotee of traditional Korean gender values, Kong Grandfather rules the multi-generational household like a patriarch of old. Women have been taught to serve their fathers, brothers, and husbands in clear subservience. Daughters need never trouble themselves with dating because their marriages will be arranged to suit family needs anyway. As a result, Yeon Su is a 30-something virgin who has never dared to rebel against the system into which she was born. If tempted to disobedience, she need only look at how the family treats her aunt, now divorced from her own arranged matrimony, to understand any rebellion comes with a price. She does have a secret boyfriend, but she has resisted his every entreaty for their years-long relationship to escalate to include physical intimacy because “proper women” simply don’t do such things. (Understandably, the frustrated boyfriend is pretty sure no contradiction exists between pre-marital sex and female respectability.) The only sense in which a viewer might regard Yeon Su as a woman with one foot in modern times arises through her professional accomplishments. She has forged a career as a successful marketer.
The ML, Dokgo Dal, is CEO of a small start-up that manufactures sex toys. The company embraces an outlook on sexual politics and sexual freedom that leads “respectable” segments of Korean society to look askance at the whole endeavor. (How progressive is the company? The office contains a space where employees can “test drive” the company’s products.) Outside of work, Dal eschews dating in favor of a string on one-night stands. Disillusioned about love by his father’s multiple failed marriages—Dokgo Dad is on Wife #4—Dal long ago soured on the whole notion of romantic love. He definitely believes sexual pleasure can exist independent of romantic attachment.
Make Me Tingle is largely a workplace comedy. Since any small start-up enterprise will benefit from the contributions of an ace marketer, the plot swiftly contrives for Yeon Su to join the firm as a contract worker. Overcoming her discomfort with the nature of the products, Kang Yeon Su quickly becomes immersed in the company’s efforts to make their wares seem less sordid and more "part of a balanced life." Office discussions on how to market the sexcessories (which are on screen a lot) sometimes lead to substantive discussion about the appeal sex toys can hold for all types of customers, from singles to long-married pairs. By K-drama standards, some of these discussions are refreshingly frank. As both Yeon Su and Dal begin to feel the inevitable tug of mutual attraction expected in any K-drama plot, their conflicting views on the role of sex and romance in dating lead them to debate whether the sex act can be disassociated from romantic love. Dal thinks “date night” implies a one-night stand. Yeon Su believes “date night” entails convivial conversation paired with food. “How is that different from lunch with co-workers?” he pointedly asks her.
For all that sexual mores tend to be taught to each new generation as if they are fixed principles, in reality each new generation (at least in modern times) finds itself confronted with rapidly evolving norms for "appropriate" that may render the elder generation out-of-touch. Since generational conflict is a routine feature of K-drama anyway, the genre is ideally suited to illustrate how evolving sexual norms create a clash between "what should be" and "what is." The writers incorporate a number of conundrums not terribly uncommon in contemporary society: characters debate the necessity of condoms to avoid pregnancy; how to support an unexpectedly pregnant girlfriend; how to foster a sex-positive attitude in a teen while discouraging them from having sex too young; and the importance of respect and communication to foster a healthy sexual dynamic between two people. Yeon Su must even struggle with how much to reveal to her grandparents about the nature of her new workplace. She felt a reasonable compromise would be "they make exercise equipment," only to have her mother and grandmother offer to buy one each. "Wait, mom," says Yeon Su's mother to her own mother, "Why buy two when we can just share?"
Meanwhile, a central goal of any course dealing with the history of sexuality centers on getting students to appreciate the clash between prescriptive norms (how society expects people to behave) and descriptive norms (how folks actually behave). Less salacious than it sounds, “the history of sexuality” tends to focus, like any other type of history, on change over time. That might include issues such as:
• How dating and courtship norms shift with changing economic systems.
• How the institution of marriage adapts to wider changes in the social fabric.
• How notions of “proper” masculinity and femininity evolve to reflect those other norms.
• How new types of identity and behavior challenge established ways of leading a life.
More than any other series I can think of, the story frame for Make Me Tingle lends itself to illustrating issues such as those. Indeed, the series leans full force into generational conflicts since the main characters’ respective outlooks represent a kind of inheritance.
Yeon Su’s sheltered conservative background embodies the prescriptive side while Dal’s upbringing reflects descriptive norms. That the series manages to incorporate these “lessons” so seamlessly into a romantic comedy reflects how skillfully the writers pieced together this tale. They never portray either Yeon Su or Dal as obviously right or obviously wrong. Instead, the opposing worldviews come across as differences in philosophy. If standard K-drama formulas require a mismatched pair to spar in early episodes, then the sexualized content of this series offers ample ground for that. This duo spars over questions like whether sex can/should occur without love attached, or whether sex can/should be pursued as a neutral form of human entertainment—just another type of “exercise.” Episode 3, all by itself, delivers an incredible dialog in which each party sets forth their world view. I don’t know whether the scene delighted me more for demonstrating principles I teach or for manifesting a classic K-drama trope with verve and wit.
Many K-dramas portray sexuality with a heavy bias toward prescriptive norms. (Likely to avoid offending sponsors!) That is why so many series feature 30-year old female virgins, unmarried adults living with parents, and characters who act shocked at forms of intimacy western viewers would dismiss as ordinary. The characters may indulge the shocking behavior anyway—but as long as someone on screen has registered disapproval, propriety has been served. Make Me Tingle seems aware of all these customary restraints and somewhat gleefully subverts them by bringing them into the open. The old-fashioned patriarchy championed by Yeon Su’s grandfather should remind us all that much of what society deems right/wrong with respect to sexual conduct actually manifests as notions of proper manhood and womanhood. Gender circumscribes our choices in life. Yeon Su remains a virgin BECAUSE she is a woman; Dal is free to hook up as he pleases BECAUSE he is a man.
With the series at its midpoint, and both leads feeling the tug of mutual attraction, I am sure the two will find a way to resolve their differences, overcome family opposition, and save the company. Because a happy ending (for love!) is part of the K-drama formula, too. Based on the first five episodes, I gleefully look forward to more debates on the tug between casual sex and sex in a committed relationship.
And, just maybe, they will find a way to portray both in a positive light?
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