I truly wonder when my family began to ask me why I don't want to marry X, Y or Z instead of asking me why I 'do'. I've tried (rather unsuccessfully) to tell them that you don't need a reason to 'not' want to marry someone. I shouldn't have to invent platitudes blaming everything from his height (or lack thereof) to the cut of his clothes (if his pants are waist high, an issue is born) for my non-willingness to embrace matrimony. Fact is, I shouldn't need a reason at all beyond the fact that I don't want to. But that's not the way it seems to work anymore. And I'm getting sick and tired of constantly having to be on the defensive as far as the marital quest is concerned. As if I'm taking this daring stance and committing to spinsterhood. Last I heard, I was totally in charity with becoming Mrs. somebody. That said, do they really expect me to commit to the kind of cartoons that have been heading my way? Really? Really-Really? :S
March 25, 2010
I had a rather bizarre conversation with my grandmother. It began with her asking me why I didn't want to marry boy 'X'. I had no real reply. She pressed the case by reminding me that he lives in Amreeka (the joys of the non-Pakistani passport are many, I hear) and that he's an architect (and thereby going to make a lot of money someday). I told her I didn't think he was particularly interested in me. She was not impressed with that. According to her times have changed and girls no longer need boys to run after them in order to prove that they want them. In fact, girls can contact boys themselves if they want to. At which point she asked me if I wanted his email. I told her that (un)fortunately the joys of modernity haven't really caught up with me yet and I'm a very traditional sort of girl (you begin to see the utter absurdity of this conversation?). As far as I'm concerned this whole woman libby thing about women proposing to their man may work very well for some people, but I prefer to be the one being chased. And if ever I'm called upon to play pursuer, I lose interest very, very quickly. Grandmother was not impressed. She said she expected better of me than these namby-pamby answers about boy not being interested in me. Says she, what's there to be not-interested-in? I grant you, she is my grandmother and understandably biased but I somewhat agree with her. That said, coming back to the point about the amreeki-architect-boy, I'm still somewhat stumped. I could tell her that I know him well, we've been out with mutual friends often and we partied together a time or twice once-upon-a-lifetime ago when I lived in Manhattan - which would be when he was very squarely placed in the friend category and I'm not in the least inclined (even were he interested, which he is not) to move him to another. Grandmother is still not impressed by what she puts under the head of nonsense the modern woman should be beyond subscribing to and proceeds to have a few spoonfuls of tomato soup. I welcome the reprieve seriously feeling like the last few minutes have been one hell of an ordeal. All of a sudden she looks up, looks me in the eye (the way only grandmothers can) and asks me: why don't I want to marry Mr. Y from Canada?