Dear. M: A Warm Walk Down The Lane of Nostalgia
Watching *Dear. M* felt like settling into a puffy jacket on a chilly day while I effortlessly floated around the Korean world of university life. The show is heartwarming, full of yearning and pangs of nostalgia which feel strangely painful yet soothing. The narrative revolves around a bunch of students in Seoyeon University trying to solve the mystery of "M" alongside dealing with stubborn friendships, first infatuations, and dreams that feel almost palpable. I found myself chuckling and reminiscing about their goofy moments, however, there were instances that made my throat constrict with emotion. It’s as though the show was softly singing me lullabies of my lost memories.
Korean Culture in Every Scene
*Dear. M* is a love letter to Korean university life. It shows kids grinding through studies but also living for clubs, late-night food runs, and campus parties. Moving into dorms or cramped apartments is a big deal—it’s their first taste of being on their own, and you see them figure it out.
There’s this natural respect for older students, called *sunbae*. Younger ones look up to them, ask for advice, and it’s just part of the vibe. The dating stuff is adorable—shy confessions, first dates, that whole first-love glow. It’s so Korean, like every romantic K-drama I’ve cried over, but feels grounded. And they’re glued to their phones, texting or posting on secret forums, which is basically how every Korean student stays connected.
The group stuff steals the show—big dinners, wild festivals, or those chaotic MT trips where everyone gets super close. These aren’t just events; they’re what make uni life special, and the show makes you feel like you’re there.
Bangladesh vs. Korea: Different Worlds
As a Bangladeshi, watching *Dear. M* made Korean uni life look like a whole other universe. Korean students leave home, live in dorms, and throw themselves into clubs and campus fun. Here, we mostly stay with family, and uni’s more about exams than events. We have clubs, but they’re not as big a deal.
Dating a huge difference. In the show, Korean kids date openly, with all the cute, awkward moments. In Bangladesh, it’s quieter—dating happens, but it’s private, not something you flaunt. Respecting seniors is a thing here too, but it’s way less formal than Korea’s “sunbae” setup. And while Koreans live on apps, we still love in-person talks, even if we text a lot.
The biggest gap is freedom. Korean students in *Dear. M* make their own choices—who to date, what to do. In Bangladesh, family’s always involved, sometimes calling the shots on big decisions.
Why It Sticks
Dear. M is like your favorite song—it lifts you up, breaks your heart, and stays with you. It’s so Korean but feels like it’s speaking to anyone who’s been young and confused. Seeing it next to Bangladeshi life shows how different we are, but the core—friends, love, chasing dreams—is universal. I’m still thinking about those characters, and I’m not ready to say goodbye.
Dear. M: A Warm Walk Down The Lane of Nostalgia
Watching *Dear. M* felt like settling into a puffy jacket on a chilly day while I effortlessly floated around the Korean world of university life. The show is heartwarming, full of yearning and pangs of nostalgia which feel strangely painful yet soothing. The narrative revolves around a bunch of students in Seoyeon University trying to solve the mystery of "M" alongside dealing with stubborn friendships, first infatuations, and dreams that feel almost palpable. I found myself chuckling and reminiscing about their goofy moments, however, there were instances that made my throat constrict with emotion. It’s as though the show was softly singing me lullabies of my lost memories.
Korean Culture in Every Scene
*Dear. M* is a love letter to Korean university life. It shows kids grinding through studies but also living for clubs, late-night food runs, and campus parties. Moving into dorms or cramped apartments is a big deal—it’s their first taste of being on their own, and you see them figure it out.
There’s this natural respect for older students, called *sunbae*. Younger ones look up to them, ask for advice, and it’s just part of the vibe. The dating stuff is adorable—shy confessions, first dates, that whole first-love glow. It’s so Korean, like every romantic K-drama I’ve cried over, but feels grounded. And they’re glued to their phones, texting or posting on secret forums, which is basically how every Korean student stays connected.
The group stuff steals the show—big dinners, wild festivals, or those chaotic MT trips where everyone gets super close. These aren’t just events; they’re what make uni life special, and the show makes you feel like you’re there.
Bangladesh vs. Korea: Different Worlds
As a Bangladeshi, watching *Dear. M* made Korean uni life look like a whole other universe. Korean students leave home, live in dorms, and throw themselves into clubs and campus fun. Here, we mostly stay with family, and uni’s more about exams than events. We have clubs, but they’re not as big a deal.
Dating a huge difference. In the show, Korean kids date openly, with all the cute, awkward moments. In Bangladesh, it’s quieter—dating happens, but it’s private, not something you flaunt. Respecting seniors is a thing here too, but it’s way less formal than Korea’s “sunbae” setup. And while Koreans live on apps, we still love in-person talks, even if we text a lot.
The biggest gap is freedom. Korean students in *Dear. M* make their own choices—who to date, what to do. In Bangladesh, family’s always involved, sometimes calling the shots on big decisions.
Why It Sticks
Dear. M is like your favorite song—it lifts you up, breaks your heart, and stays with you. It’s so Korean but feels like it’s speaking to anyone who’s been young and confused. Seeing it next to Bangladeshi life shows how different we are, but the core—friends, love, chasing dreams—is universal. I’m still thinking about those characters, and I’m not ready to say goodbye.