So, I expertly manuevered myself out of having to attend not one but two weddings this past weekend. "But amma, I have SO MUCH reading to do," worked for the first wedding; "But amma, I already have plans with my friends," with a "Why didn't you tell me sooner. I'm going to miss out on SUCH a GREAT matchmaking opportunity!" thrown in for good measure worked for the second wedding.
Amma met up with a gaggle of her girlfriends at the second wedding and, upon her return, she spent a good hour bemoaning my absence from the nuptials:
"EVERYONE was asking about you and all of the women admitted that they were there to find single girls! Oh Sabila! You need to start attending weddings. You aren't getting any younger..."
Of course, as (my miserable) luck would have it, we met a woman at the Pakistani Independence Day street fair (or another WONDERFUL matchmaking opportunity according to my mom)who sized me up, declared that I was pretty and pulled out a pen and slip of paper to take down our number.
"How old is she?" the woman asked. Mind you, I was standing right there.
"27," I announced, smiling and standing up a little straighter, knowing what was about to come.
"Ohh, she's too old to get married now," the woman announced.
My mom, who is just as aggressively amiable as I am, smiled and said something about kismet and such things being out of our hands.
"Yes, but we're supposed to try. We can't leave everything to kismet," the woman preached. She actually looked annoyed with us.
I had to keep myself from laughing in the woman's face. Surprisingly (and much to my relief), my mother wasn't too bothered by her since we'd already had a countless barrage of women inquire about my availability for their cousins/brothers/neighbors/dentists/cabbies etc. Of course my mother responded to each woman with a "Yes, we're looking." Of course this response, as often as I heard it over the course of the day, threw me off guard. "We are?" I wondered each and every time.
I suppose we are.
Oh, the lengths I go to to keep the parental units satisfied...and my readers entertained.
And, worry not. I'm constantly working on my emergency escape plans.
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11 comments:
I dont suppose "parental units" is a reference to Star Trek (the Motion Picture, in which V-GER refers to humans as "carbon units")?
Oh...and I'll marry you.
I think it was a reference from coneheads...
Getting set up by a professional matchmaker can't be any worse than on-line dating. Give it a shot, at least you'll have good blog material and who knows, it just may work out.
JV and AS: It's totally a reference from SNL's Coneheads.
JV: Alas, my dear, you are but a teenager. Back to your studies (Love your blog, by the way! I'm totally linking it)!
Maritza: Giving it a shot is the only way I can get my parents off my back. But there's no way in hell I'm finding a partner through this silliness. I'm stubborn. I refuse.
You are right; the blog material is priceless.
OMG, Marry Me?! :)
Anonymous: who are you? and why the OMG?
yet another marriage proposal...
does that count?
Sabilak, love your spirit. I would have given the aunty a few more reasons why I could not be married off, i.e. my ever expanding french vocabulary.
Who do these aunties think they are??? If you are seriously looking for a good man, then I pray for you. But if not then I would love to read more on your escape plans :-)
Sabila, I did not know that being of Pakistani descent is like being equipped with alien parents! Frankly, plain hillarious! Keep up the good work (Caucasian lover of an Indian girl)!
EastEatsWest
AS: I dunno if blog-proposals count.
Checkmate: I'm simply practicing escape plans. I'm not serious about this at all.
Anonymous: Most kids of Desi (Indian or Pakistani) descent come with alien parents.
I'd marry you anyday!!!!!
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