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L.A. Affairs: Dim sum is meant to be shared. But I had no one

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L.A. Affairs: Dim sum is meant to be shared. But I had no one

Rising up, the very first thing that my mom would ask me — or my brothers and sisters — once we got here by way of the door was, “Ni chi le ma?” The Chinese language equal of “How are you?” Roughly translated in our family, it meant, “Have you ever eaten?”

There would all the time be one thing to munch on. It may be sweets from the bakery, a bowl of soup with Mother’s do-it-yourself noodles, a membership sandwich lower into triangles. Or, if we had been fortunate, a vibrant pink field full of dim sum that Mother introduced house on these particular days when she had lunch together with her sisters and their mom (my grandmother) at their favourite restaurant in Honolulu. “Treats from the guts,” my grandma would say as she smacked her lips and touched her coronary heart.

I particularly favored the smooth steamed buns full of candy roast pork, any dumpling — fried, boiled or steamed — and custard tarts.

On weekends, Mother orchestrated dim sum get-togethers with the aunts, uncles, cousins and anybody else who occurred to be visiting from the mainland, often prolonged household from California. I didn’t all the time benefit from the firm — as a child, I all the time thought grownup conversations had been so boring — however I certain beloved consuming the dim sum.

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After I graduated school and moved to Los Angeles to pursue a profession in instructing, my pursuit of dim sum was stalled. I couldn’t discover a place whose dim sum I beloved as a lot as what I’d gotten at house. And I used to be busy and broke. After getting my instructing credentials, I used to be employed to show elementary college in Pasadena. There was a lot {that a} younger, inexperienced trainer needed to study and do. I didn’t have time to consider dim sum. I gravitated towards cheap-and-easy takeout meals and cafeteria lunches.

I threw myself into my job. I needed to turn into the type of trainer that I wanted I’d had as a child. And I prefer to suppose I succeeded. I taught all completely different grades, however I specialised within the arts. I helped my college students write tales, paint and placed on performs. I grew to become very a lot concerned locally and have become pals with a lot of my college students’ mother and father. I used to be typically invited to their houses to share scrumptious meals. I used to be glad. However I didn’t neglect about dim sum. I might typically return to Honolulu for the summers and get my fill of dim sum from new eating places that Mother had found.

Again in L.A. after one such journey, I made a decision to take cost of my dim sum cravings. I realized learn how to make easy dumplings. I purchased a wok, steamer baskets and plenty of elements from the markets in Chinatown. My dumplings improved each time I made them. I didn’t grasp intricate folding strategies, however they tasted higher than the frozen enchiladas I often stored available. By my early 30s, I seemed round to take inventory of my private accomplishments. I may make dumplings and would quickly be tenured.

There was only one downside.

Dim sum is supposed to be shared.

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And that meant I wanted to take the subsequent step in turning into the true me.

I referred to as my mother for her birthday and simply stated it. “Completely happy birthday, Mother. I’m homosexual.” There was a momentary silence. I used to be about to hurry into that silence, to reassure her that she would nonetheless be getting her conventional reward cargo of pears from Harry & David — she actually beloved these pears — after I heard her clear her throat.

I half anticipated her to ask me, “Ni chi le ma?” As an alternative, she requested, “Have you ever met somebody?”

“No, not but.”

“I hope he likes dim sum,” she laughed.

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Clearly, she wasn’t shocked by my revelation.

I’d by no means felt the apprehension that often accompanies coming-out tales. There was by no means a time that I feared disappointing my mother and father. My anxiousness was about what all of it meant — it was time to satisfy somebody. All that target my work had made me complacent about every little thing else in my life.

Relationship, and assembly somebody, could be the subsequent step to turning into me. I simply had one choosy requirement. I completely didn’t need to date a trainer.

A couple of days later, my mother despatched me a standard Chinese language teapot with 4 matching teacups, tucked right into a woven basket. Inside a card, she wrote, “Should have tea once you serve your pals dumplings.”

This subsequent chapter in my life discovered me buying a fixer-upper in Silver Lake that had avocado inexperienced home equipment. If I taught summer time college for the remainder of my life, I would have the ability to afford to rework. The brand new home meant I used to be nearer to work.

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And I used to be nonetheless single, however not for lack of making an attempt.

After settling in, I unpacked the wok and the steamer baskets. I went purchasing for the elements. Floor pork, water chestnuts, cilantro, sesame oil and napa cabbage. It was time to make dumplings. I used each received ton pores and skin within the pack. I had sufficient dumplings for the week.

However on this evening, this comforting course of left me feeling lonelier than ever.

I made a decision to discover my new neighborhood and go to an area bar. Perhaps I’d meet somebody. Nonetheless, there was that apprehension. I made a take care of myself. If I may discover a place to park, I’d take it as an indication and head on inside.

The bar was darkish, smoky — sure, you would smoke again in these days — and crowded. I obtained a beer and stood round pretending to have a look at ease. I heard somebody say, “You need one other?” He had a pleasant smile, a pleasant face, and we obtained to speaking. And speaking. And speaking. We had tons in widespread.

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Yep. He was a trainer.

At one level, I remarked that I all the time get hungry after I drink, and wished the bar served some meals. Hen wings would hit the spot. Ron didn’t let that get previous him. “You hungry too? I didn’t have dinner. You need to get one thing to eat?”

After which I did one thing that shocked even me.

“You want dumplings?” I requested.

And all of a sudden, it was Saturday evening and I used to be making ready my do-it-yourself dim sum for a brand new acquaintance, whereas we continued to speak and get to know one another higher.

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I’m unsure Ron knew dumplings from doughnuts, however he will need to have favored them as a result of he stored coming again for extra.

Thirty years later, he’s nonetheless hanging round.

All my fears about relationship a trainer turned out to be unfounded, by the best way. I used to be nervous that there could be limitless speak about college politics and griping about work. I beloved my job, however I didn’t need my life to be consumed by schooling. That has by no means been an issue. As an alternative, we spend our time sharing our respective passions with one another — his is historical past, mine is artwork.

It’s superb how we will each take a look at the identical factor and but see various things.

We love going to museums collectively, and once we take a look at a bit of artwork, I break it down for him by way of coloration and type. He explains it to me by way of the painter, their influences and the way it all emerged at this specific second in time. Typically, we get so carried away that individuals suppose we’re docents. And our pals, bored, have left us to go hang around on the museum restaurant.

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Lately, Ron and I made a decision to make it official and obtained married within the backyard of the house we share. We solely invited two expensive pals to hitch us. They had been our “finest males.”

Realizing us effectively, they introduced us a two-tiered marriage ceremony cake and takeout dim sum for our marriage ceremony “banquet.”

I served tea from the pot Mother gave me. As we toasted our nuptials, I noticed that a very powerful phrases we spoke that afternoon weren’t “I do.”

Fairly, they had been the reply to my mom’s query. She died a few years in the past, and I needed to listen to these phrases as soon as extra, her method of letting us know that she cared and beloved us. “Ni chi le ma?”

In reply, we raised our cups of tea, and I answered, “Sure, now we have.”

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The creator and his husband have retired from instructing and stay in Silver Lake with their canine, Charlie.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the seek for romantic love in all its superb expressions within the L.A. space, and we need to hear your true story. We pay $300 for a printed essay. E mail LAAffairs@latimes.com. You’ll find submission pointers right here. You’ll find previous columns right here.

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Lifestyle

How to navigate gift returns and regifting this holiday season

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How to navigate gift returns and regifting this holiday season

Shoppers walk along Fifth Avenue on Nov. 29 in New York City.

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If you’re feeling guilty for thinking about returning that unironically ugly sweater your least favorite aunt gave you this holiday season, maybe don’t. ‘Tis the season of giving — and returning, after all.

The National Retail Federation reports that returns will total $890 billion for all of 2024. Returns happen year-round, but are most prevalent during the holiday season, the organization said.

But etiquette experts caution there is a delicate art to returning, or even regifting, the presents you receive.

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“When it comes to returning a gift, I think discretion is key so you never hurt the gift giver,” said Myka Meier, an etiquette expert who runs Beaumont Etiquette in New York City.

There are some things to consider before heading to the store to make a return, according to Jo Bryant, a British etiquette consultant.

“The best way to return an unwanted gift is to really examine the financial worth, and relationship with the giver. It always involves a tricky conversation, so it is best to prioritise this for more expensive gifts when it really would be [a] shame that you can’t use it, and a real waste,” Bryant wrote in an email to NPR. “You also need to know the person who gave you the gift very well to be so honest with them.”

People walk past shops on Dec. 11 in Philadelphia.

People walk past shops on Dec. 11 in Philadelphia.

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Keep quiet and return

For Meier, it’s all about discretion when it comes to returning a gift.

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She and Bryant differ on whether plans for returns should be shared with the gift giver.

Meier said don’t say anything “unless they specifically ask,” she said. “For most situations, it’s better to simply thank them graciously for their thoughtfulness without mentioning the return. The focus should always be on appreciating the gesture of being given a gift, not the item itself.”

And maybe keep mum even after some time has passed, she recommends.

“I would still try to avoid ever bringing it up, but I also would not lie,” she said.

So, if that aunt who bought that ugly sweater asks how it fits two months after Christmas?

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“In that case, you can kindly and tactfully explain, for instance: ‘It was such a thoughtful gift! Unfortunately, it didn’t fit quite right, so I exchanged it for something similar that I’ll use every day and always think of you!’ “

A shopper carries a Christmas-themed bag in London on Dec. 2, 2020.

A shopper carries a Christmas-themed bag in London on Dec. 2, 2020.

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But maybe direct honesty is more your style?

Bryant believes “honesty and tact is best.” Regardless, be sure to flatter the gift giver and heap praise on the present at the same time.

If something absolutely must be returned, instead of saying that you just didn’t like the present, give a reason for the return that is out of your control, Bryant said.

She suggested saying something like, ” ‘I loved the cashmere jumper — it is one of my favourite presents this year — but I think the size up would be more comfortable for me,’ or ‘Thank you for the crystal glass vase; we love it but my mother recently gave us one very similar. I really don’t want such a generous gift to be wasted, so I’d love it if we could look to choose something else together? You always get us the best presents and we are so lucky to get such amazing and thoughtful gift from you.’ “

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To save on possible awkwardness with these kinds of exchanges, Bryant suggested that gift givers be proactive and include the gift receipt, when possible.

What are the rules on regifting?

Yes, regifting is allowable, under etiquette rules.

“But it should be done thoughtfully and carefully,” Meier said.

There are limits to what can be regifted. “If the gift was customized in any way or has sentimental meaning, it’s not something to regift,” she said.

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She addresses this topic further in a post on Instagram.

Some things Meier recommends if you plan on sending that previously discussed hideous sweater to a new home:

  • Make sure the gift is new, totally unused and in its original packaging
  • Avoid giving this gift to someone in the same social circles. In other words: Don’t give the sweater your aunt gave you to your cousin.
  • Rewrap the gift “to show effort and care, just as you would with a newly purchased gift!”

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Opinion: As Christmas and Hanukkah coincide, is it time for everyone to let there be holiday lights?

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Opinion: As Christmas and Hanukkah coincide, is it time for everyone to let there be holiday lights?

Hanukkah begins on Christmas this year, marking a rare coincidence of the Jewish and Christian holidays, which occur according to different calendars. The alignment invites reflection on how two traditions can inspire each other.

The Orthodox Jewish community I grew up in rejected Christmas lights as signs of unwanted assimilation. We lighted the menorahs in our windows and doorways for the holiday’s eight nights, keeping the tradition simple and understated. Any more showy displays would have felt like crossing a line.

Still, as a child, I secretly admired the glowing homes of my neighbors. But those lights weren’t for us — or so I was taught.

Decades later, I stand in my cul-de-sac and stare at my neighbors’ dazzling home, with warm, sparkling lights wrapped around the trees. They decorate their home for Christmas because it brings them joy — and, honestly, it brings joy to everyone who passes by.

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Apart from menorahs and basic landscape lighting, most of the Jewish homes on the street stay dark during Hanukkah. We keep them that way out of habit, tradition and a lingering belief that holiday lights are “not Jewish.”

My kids don’t observe the rigid boundaries of my childhood, though. When we drive through the neighborhood, they’re drawn to the lights like moths to a flame, pressing their faces against the car windows and pointing out their favorite houses.

“Why don’t we have lights like that?” my 12-year-old, Rosa, asks, her voice full of wonder and betraying a hint of sadness.

I don’t have a good answer. Why don’t we?

Holiday lights have more than aesthetic benefits, signaling community and social connection. Lights can boost mood, reduce stress and create warmth, especially during the dark winter months. Holiday lights are more than decorations; they’re a means of emotional well-being. These seem like good reasons to rethink our traditions.

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Judaism, however, emphasizes differentiation: Observing dietary laws, keeping the Sabbath and other practices make us stand out, reminding us — and others — of our identity. Critics claim holiday lights blur the distinction between Jewish and non-Jewish traditions.

Christmas lights descend from the candles once used to decorate Christmas trees, which in turn may have links to pre-Christian traditions. Ancient civilizations celebrated the winter solstice with evergreens and fires to mark the triumph of light over darkness. Christianity adopted some of these traditions, and starting in the late 19th century, electric light helped the holiday decorations become a secular cultural tradition in Europe, America and beyond.

While holiday lights have only become less specifically religious, they still carry strong associations with the Christian celebration of Jesus’ birth. Preserving Jewish identity in a world of cultural blending takes effort, and some worry that adopting symbols closely tied to Christmas undermines that work.

The tension between preserving Jewish distinctiveness and engaging with the rest of society isn’t new. Hanukkah itself celebrates an ancient Jewish victory over the Seleucid Empire, which sought to impose Hellenistic culture and forced assimilation in Judea.

But standing out doesn’t require rejecting every element of the broader culture. Light, after all, is universal. The Jewish tradition uses light as a symbol of hope and connection, not least at Hanukkah, often called the “Festival of Lights.” The menorah represented eternal light and divine presence in the ancient temple, and Hanukkah celebrates the miracle of a single day’s oil lasting eight. The public lighting of candles shares our story with the world — known in Hebrew as persumei nisa, publicizing the miracle. Even a small flame banishes great darkness.

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Holiday lights may have religious roots, but today they also bring joy to people of all backgrounds. For Jewish families, embracing holiday lights doesn’t have to mean celebrating Christmas. It can be a way of enhancing our own traditions with a universal symbol of hope and illumination. Using blue and white lights or incorporating Jewish symbols like illuminated dreidels or Stars of David allows families to celebrate their traditions while connecting with their neighbors. It’s not about copying Christmas; it’s about marking Hanukkah in a shared language of light.

Jewish tradition is already replete with light. The third verse of the Torah says, “Let there be light,” emphasizing its centrality to creation. Isaiah calls the Jewish people “a light unto the nations,” urging us to spread hope and inspiration. So why limit ourselves to eight nights of candles? Why not let our lights burn brighter and longer, connecting us to our neighbors and reflecting the beauty of our traditions?

Growing up, we avoided holiday lights out of fear of losing something by blending in too much. Now I realize we won’t lose anything but darkness. It’s time to change; it’s time to shine.

Eli Federman is a writer and private equity investor. X: @EliFederman

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'The Bachelor,' Ukraine edition, features a veteran who lost both legs in the war

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'The Bachelor,' Ukraine edition, features a veteran who lost both legs in the war

Oleksandr Budko, a 28-year-old Ukrainian war veteran, whose military call sign is Teren, poses for a portrait in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 18. Budko, a double amputee, participated in the Ukrainian version of the TV show The Bachelor.

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Oksana Parafeniuk for NPR

KYIV, Ukraine — Oleksandr Budko looks like a leading man. He’s sandy-haired and blue-eyed, with muscular tattooed arms and the chiseled face of a movie star.

“I’m a military veteran, an activist and writer. And I’m also The Bachelor,” he says in this season’s Ukrainian edition of the popular reality TV franchise.

The Bachelor, or Kholostiak in Ukrainian, is produced by Starlight Media and Warner Bros. International Television, and it airs on STB, a Ukrainian channel. This season, its 13th, premiered on Nov. 1. 

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Inna Bielien, 29, a German language translator, poses for a portrait at home in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Dec. 13. She is one of the female contestant of the Ukrainian version of the TV show The Bachelor.

Inna Bielien, 29, a German language translator, poses for a portrait at home in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Dec. 13. She is one of the female contestant of the Ukrainian version of the TV show The Bachelor.

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In one episode, Budko is on a rock-climbing date with a wholesome translator named Inna Bielien.

“Oh my God,” she says, as she hangs off the cliff.

“Don’t worry, I will be very close, right behind you,” he says, as he helps her scale the rock face.

What goes unsaid is that Budko is doing this on prosthetic legs, clearly visible because he’s wearing shorts. He’s a double amputee. He represents the tens of thousands of Ukrainians who have lost limbs since Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine. An adviser to Ukraine’s Sports and Youth Ministry put the number at around 100,000 last year.

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Oleksandr Budko, with the call sign Teren, lost both legs on the front line in Ukraine's battle against the Russian invasion.

Oleksandr Budko, with the call sign Teren, lost both legs on the front line in Ukraine’s battle against the Russian invasion.

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Their visibility — in fashion magazines, on catwalks and now a popular reality TV series — shows how much the war has affected Ukraine.

“Still,” he tells NPR in an interview, “there is still a problem with stigma. I went on The Bachelor to help address it.”

“I realized then I would lose my legs”

Budko, 28, grew up in western Ukraine and was working as a barista in a coffeeshop in Kyiv when Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. He enlisted and was soon on the front line. That summer, his unit had stalled while trying to push Russian troops out of northeastern Ukraine. During a lull in the fighting, the unit decided to rest. Budko lay down in a trench.

“Then something hit that caused the trench to crumble,” he says.

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Russian troops had shelled the trench. Budko was buried in earth, twisting in pain as his fellow soldiers dug him out.

“I was conscious the entire time,” he says. “And I also realized then that I would lose my legs.”

Budko recovered through intensive, and often excruciating, physical therapy. He threw himself into sports, even competing in swimming at the 2023 Invictus Games. He also wrote a book and performed in a modern ballet.

“There was no point in me being angry at anyone or anything about what happened,” he said. “It was better to do something good instead.”

Oleksandr Budko tries to ride a unicycle at the Recovery rehabilitation center in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 18. He goes to rehabilitation centers to share the information on the process of his recovery, logistics to obtain prosthetics and about the possibilities for injured veterans.

Oleksandr Budko tries to ride a unicycle at the Recovery rehabilitation center in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 18. He goes to rehabilitation centers to share the information on the process of his recovery, logistics to obtain prosthetics and about the possibilities for injured veterans.

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In the opening to The Bachelor, he jumps on a motorcycle, tucks a red rose into his leather vest-jacket, and speeds away. Each episode features beautiful young women vying for his attention, often with the built-in melodrama typical of reality shows.

“I wanted to show the possibilities,” he says. “I wanted to give people faith.”

“You are examples of courage and heroism”

The people he’s talking about are fellow wounded veterans. Budko visits them often, and they’re a tough crowd — exhausted, skeptical, emotionally distant.

“They never allow themselves to show any feelings of failure,” he says.

On a recent afternoon, he stops by a hospital in Kyiv where dozens of veterans are recovering from amputations. He cringes when he hears their screams of pain during physical therapy.

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Injured soldiers at the Recovery rehabilitation center listen to Oleksandr Budko, a 28-year-old veteran, in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 18. During his visits to rehabs, soldiers ask Budko lots of practical questions about things like prosthetics and health care.

Injured soldiers at the Recovery rehabilitation center listen to Oleksandr Budko, a 28-year-old veteran, in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 18. During his visits to rehabs, soldiers ask Budko lots of practical questions about things like prosthetics and health care.

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Budko walks into a room filled with wounded soldiers in wheelchairs and sitting on beds. He introduces himself with his military call sign, Teren. It’s the name of a thorny wild plum. In Ukrainian folklore, it symbolizes obstacles and overcoming them.

“Do not focus only on your injury, because remember — you are examples of courage and heroism,” he tells the soldiers. “You are not disabled.”

Rostyslav Andrusenko, a doctor helping the men recover, says many are depressed. They fear they will no longer be useful to their families or society.

“They ask me if they will ever walk again or play football with their friends or help their kids, all the everyday things that they did before,” Andrusenko says.

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Oleksandr Budko, whose military call sign is Teren, talks to injured soldiers at the Recovery rehabilitation center in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 18.

Oleksandr Budko, whose military call sign is Teren, talks to injured soldiers at the Recovery rehabilitation center in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 18.

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Budko gives a pep talk to the soldiers and also cracks a few jokes that don’t quite land. The men politely clap when he finishes and then ask a lot of practical questions, like where to get the best prosthetics.

Mykola Kovalenko, a married father of two, badly injured his leg on the front line after a mine exploded and may have to have it amputated. He asks Budko how to navigate medical bureaucracy, which he equates to “passing through the seven circles of hell.”

Budko promises to help, and Kovalenko finally cracks a smile. He says his wife and two teenage daughters love this season of The Bachelor.

Ukrainian war veteran Oleksandr Budko (right) talks to an injured soldier, Mykola Kovalenko, 36, at the Recovery rehabilitation center in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 18.

Ukrainian war veteran Oleksandr Budko (right) talks to an injured soldier, Mykola Kovalenko, 36, at the Recovery rehabilitation center in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 18.

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“What he is doing is very helpful,” Kovalenko says. “He is showing guys like me, guys who are injured, that all is not lost, that we shouldn’t give up, that we should keep trying.”

Budko says soldiers rarely discuss their feelings about relationships and self-image with him. He does offer his number, though, in case they do want to talk at some point.

“Everyone has their own sensitive topics that they’re ashamed to talk about,” he says, including intimacy and the fear of being pitied by potential partners.

Love and war

Inna Bielien, 29, German language translator who is a contestant on the Ukrainian version of the TV show The Bachelor, shows a photo from behind the scenes of show, in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Dec. 13.

Inna Bielien, 29, German language translator who is a contestant on the Ukrainian version of the TV show The Bachelor, shows a photo from behind the scenes of show, in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Dec. 13.

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The war has also touched the women on the show. One is a widow whose husband was killed on the front line. Another is a soldier. Inna Bielien, the translator on the rock-climbing date, is also a humanitarian volunteer who sources and sends supplies to Ukraine’s troops.

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NPR meets her in her stylish apartment in a Kyiv neighborhood that’s often hit by Russian drones. She talks about a soldier, Vadym, she loved who was killed early in the war. She says she was still holding out hope when she got the call about him.

“I remember thinking, Lord, I hope he’s alive, even with no arms and no legs, because it is better to come back without limbs than not come back at all,” she says.

Even so, she says, many Ukrainians struggle to talk to wounded veterans.

“I was told that if you see a soldier, you say thank you and put your hand to your heart,” Bielien says. “Asking about amputations, whether that crosses personal boundaries, that is still new for us.”

Oleksandr Budko talks to a participant at the Donbas Media Forum conference in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 18. Budko, a Ukrainian veteran who lost both legs on the front line, stars in the Ukrainian version of the TV show The Bachelor.

Oleksandr Budko talks to a participant at the Donbas Media Forum conference in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Oct. 18. Budko, a Ukrainian veteran who lost both legs on the front line, stars in the Ukrainian version of the TV show The Bachelor.

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Budko says the series helped show that it’s OK to ask questions, especially when it comes to intimacy.

“Like, ‘Does it hurt when I touch your limbs there?’ and so on,” he says.

Budko says he feels he has done some good on the show. And he now has a girlfriend, but won’t say if it’s Bielien, who says she fell in love with him, or someone else.

He can’t reveal anything, he says, until the season finale on Friday.

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