The Real M Word

I'm brown. I'm also the oldest girl, the daughter of the oldest girl (my mother), who is the daughter of the oldest girl (my grandmother). Now I know my family is not super Indiany (read: watch Bollywood, eat chapatis all the time) but we are pretty cultural. I can speak Konkani quite fluently, I respect my elders and refer to them as my elders, I can cook a pretty decent South Indian meal, and am often scared when I come home at 2 am wondering whether my parents will yell at me. 

I'm going to be 22 on Tuesday and in my heart I'm 19. My life right now revolves around me, my fun, my drinking, my parties, my books, my broken heart, mine mine mine. I have no responsibilities, no ties in this place, no one to hold me accountable (so to speak, the Jing Bangers hold me quite accountable to say the least). So of course it amuses me when my parents dare mention the big M word - matrimony. I suppose the only big B word that my mom would know how to say would be referring to my big butt (not boyfriend), which incidentally is a tried and true nickname of mine at home. I asked her what would happen if I went on a date and she half freaked out thinking I had one.

Sitting at Applebee's, which is apparently the place for heavy discussions, my parents informed me that I should be married by the time I'm 25, for my own good, and I believe they really think so. In response, I chortled and told my mom that was in 3 years, which meant that I would have to met someone by now (not necessarily, but it is a logical assumption). My dad then said that 2 -3 months was enough whereas my mom veered toward a year, and my dad rounded it off with a "Let us know when to start looking." Now, I don't know if they were serious or not because I don't know how they can possibly assume that they could find a boy for me from among the masses. What sort of masses? Brown masses? Definitely not anything other than the Christian mass (no pun intended). I mean, my parents marriage wasn't arranged, per se, but basically my mom got to pick from a bunch of people my grandfather had pre-approved of. 

Got me thinking about this whole M word business. I know I would need parental approval - all that Romeo and Juliet sort of passionate business doesn't last, it's but a butterfly memory once real life sets in, and I know more than anything else that real life is going to bite you hard in the ass, and "for better or worse" will become "far better in my hearse" because people are essentially aggravating. They smell, they aren't clean, they do weird things like throw socks around or leave shampoo bottles half open or eat the last piece of pizza in the fridge. You need something that lasts beyond and apart from your partner, something stable, something concrete, some people to hold you accountable to lifelong vows that you made. Parents do that. Parents are also crazy. There is no winning in life, maybe that's why people drink or get diabetes.

Maybe I should put an ad out. Join some foreveralone dating sites.

Age: 21
Sex: Female (to be verified - possibly before marriage)

Usefulness as a partner: can cook, can clean, can discipline children, repressed sexuality, relatively clean, friendly, funny, great drinking partner, likes music, family oriented, effective communicator, technologically competent, relatively flexible and adaptable.

Would you rather lose a tongue or a hand?

Things that might piss you off: sings loud and off tune to every song, has a dish pile in the room, doesn't keep honey mustard in the fridge, likes to eat out, gets really obnoxious and loud, reproductive functionality up in the air, dances randomly, has weird sleeping patterns, talks to people on the Internet, writes emo angsty poetry and waxes intimate about heartbreak.

Life goals: to sit around, write poetry all day and banter constantly.

Emotional baggage: 60 pounds

Looking for: .....................................

On second thought, I like having my own room and being able to come home at 5 am and sleep in my bed by myself and order pizza with beer mouth/hair, shaving whenever I want, wearing fuzzy socks at all hours of the day, and eating secret bottles of Nutella when no one's looking.

Screw the real M word, I'll settle for the real L word right now.

Awkward boner.

Cheers!