I realize that the title of this piece makes me sound remorseless – breaking boys’ hearts left right and center. But let me put this in context. I’m single, from an orthodox Indian family, and therefore, I’m being match-made left right and center.
In the few years I’ve been on the marriage market, I have encountered some of the most amusing proposals- the ‘will you marry me’ type of proposals and the less traditional ‘will you exchange horoscopes with me’ type of proposals – from would be grooms and their parents.
Of course, the first and most memorable one I ever received was, “I am just a humor boy, looking for girl to have funny times with- hope u can b d 1.” Short, succinct, charming and incredibly, unwittingly funny. I wonder if I should have just married him to enjoy similar one liners at every anniversary. However, I didn’t. I was young, and hung up on proper grammar and following my parents’ rules. And he was an East African chap who just met me 5 minutes ago at Singapore’s ubiquitous Mustafa shopping center. Of course the fact that he directed the question at my cleavage also decided it for me.
I should have realized it was just the tip of cuckoo-land, and at least he asked me. I can’t say that about the parent-approved models.
A couple of years ago, I got a really bizarre phone call from a Mr. X, who proceeded to quiz me on my resume. I thought he was a recruiter so I got down to the business of serious self-promotion. After the successful ‘interview’ concluded, I was informed that I was a ‘suitable candidate for his son’, and that he would be contacting my parents shortly, and I can expect to hear from his son on possible wedding dates.
I told my father I wanted to conduct my own job interview(s) of the boy before I could discuss wedding dates. My father relayed my request to the boy’s father. The boy’s father turned it down citing it as inappropriate. So I turned down the boy. Quite fair don’t you think?
More recently, I got invited to Skype date a potential groom. I waited. And waited. 20 minutes had passed and the groom was a no-show. All I got were several calls from a spammer with a ridiculous username which was a permutation of “BigjuicytrunkXX”. Naturally I blocked this user after the third attempt. Apparently that was the groom.
In hindsight, I shouldn’t have taken that call at all. When I finally did and said hello- I heard two voices, a man’s voice and a woman’s one. The woman was the groom’s mother. I was officially in the twilight zone. I tried to talk to the groom. He tried to talk to me. Anything we tried to say was contradicted and corrected by his mother. I just hemmed and hawed, but Mr. Groom dutifully proceeded to agree with everything Mummy-jee said. After 30 minutes of this torture, Mummy-jee asked me “What do you think of my son? Can we fix an engagement date? We want a wedding in XY Village.”
I should have just shut my mouth, but no I had to be funny. So I replied “Aunty-jee, I don’t think I can make any decision, I didn’t really get a chance to talk to your son”. Clearly I haven’t been watching enough Ekta Kapoor tele-serials – because “Thou shalt not disagree with thy future/current mother-in-law” is practically a sacred commandment according to the law of the Indian soap opera. All future dialogues were with my parents afterwards, but I was quick to put a halt to proceedings since I wasn’t too keen on living in a soap opera nightmare where Mummy-jee dictates everything from the clothes I wear to my political opinions. *shudder*
Oh and it does not end there! As recently as last month, I was in conversation with a gentleman. Or rather he was in conversation with me. We managed three separate conversations because Mr. Groom had a LOT to say to me. Mostly they were complaints. He complained about his job, he complained about his family, he complained about the country he was living in, he even complained about the cost of the phone call he was making to me. Finally, after managing to complain about the quality of Hindi spoken in Mumbai, he complained “Tcheh this is getting really tiring you know – can you just hurry up and marry me?” I told him I had to think about it, called my parents aside and told them if I had to marry Mr. Complaint King here, I will kill him in the first 3 months of marriage and happily go to the gallows.
Now before you start thinking I’m the most desirable person in the world who has men falling over their feet to marry me, let me state for the record that I haven’t gotten into the ones who rejected me. Just off the top of my head, there was the guy who showed up with his complete extended family in a party of 10 for a ‘girl seeing’ ceremony, stayed at a fancy hotel at my family’s expense, said ‘yes yes we want this’ and went missing afterwards. We still haven’t heard from them. Then there was this other one who suggested on our first date that I try living with him for a month or two to see if we’ll work out. Finally, there was the one chap who rejected me just to know what it felt like because he’d been rejected by one too many girls in the past.
I’d love to go on to list every crazy chap I’ve ever met, but I suspect that’s enough material for a book, or an entire series of them. The only reason I haven’t written it to date is because I wonder who’d want to read such maudlin crap, and well I’m also hoping for my own happy ending one day with a sane guy. Although, after one too many encounters of the bizarre kind, I am beginning to think I probably have “will attract every weirdo, bizzaro and clown in the community” written somewhere in my horoscope, and may probably end up marrying one.
I am suddenly beginning to see the virtue in remaining single. Maybe that is my happy ending.
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