somewhere else

It’s Friday and I’m in a fantabulous mood and so you get two posts for the price of 1. Let there be mayhem!

A bad week…part 1.

So remember when I said Orangetree was the equivalent of a George Clooney cameo in the movie of my life? Well, now it’s turned into an intermittent cameo role by an expensive movie star in a sitcom. He shows up once in a while, and everybody’s smiling whether he’s coming or going.

It was not a very happy week for me. The monster known as Arranged marriage reared its ugly fucking head once more. I remember the relief I felt when I realized a couple of years ago that I would never have to deal with that shit concept again. Well whaddayaknow? I am single again and so by construction, I am on the market. A market I have no business being on. You know I have made my feelings on AM amply clear.

So now let’s look at the AM system from the perspective of the less-than-desirable single woman (LTDSW). How do we define LTDSW? Well most women would have say looks, height or horoscope-related issues but LTDSW is a little more messed up than that. She could be previously engaged like yours truly (hereafter referred to as “disengaged”), or she could have had a boyfriend (oh lord, the shame!) or she could be suspiciously single at a very old age (like say 28?) or divorced (the horror of horrors).

Clearly I am guilty of more than one offence here and I have to give my family all credit due for being so incredibly supportive this entire time, so much so that I can’t really be pissed off at them now. So they are now looking for my future husband in the matrimonial section of random Tamil/Malayalam almanacs and magazines and let’s not forget the websites. With no success. I wasn’t terrible with my specifications. Appropriate age, Makes sufficient dough (preferably more than me). Lives in a world financial capital (crucial). I.e. If he lives in bumfucknowhere in middle America I am not fucking interested.

So my family has been scouring the ads for suitable boys and to no avail. But last week, a “family friend” (they’re no friends of mine, clearly) mentioned a single 30-year old guy and my parents jumped. Quite literally, I am guessing because they jumped on the computer, got his entire profile, printed it (I am guessing) and read it out to me on the phone.

I was so not interested. I don’t want to get into the details (okay, I am lying, I do)…he lives in a small town and he is a homeowner and that’s great for him, but homeowners don’t move easily and I am not about to quit my job and move to a place where the only feasible career is being a housewife. And the last time I checked, the housewife career path is pretty long-drawn and you don’t get healthcare coverage. Not to mention, he makes significantly less than I do. Try around 40%.

But Jups, money is not important, right? Strictly speaking, I don’t have a problem if the guy makes much less than I do. But he probably would, especially since I am younger. And let’s say he was emancipated and didn’t care, I still believe that he would treat money in a less disposable fashion than I do. And speaking of fashion, how would he feel if I squandered say, an amount equal to 30% of my rent check on a pair of Jimmy Choos? (Incidentally I have been eyeing a pair of thousand dollar Choos…but that’s for another discussion). My point is if he doesn’t make enough money, I need to know that he won’t cramp my style. Pun intended. There is no way of knowing that in this case, and it would be totally weird if I asked a question like that upfront.

There were other issues too, but I don’t want to sound like a cruel bitch more than I already do. Basically any qualities he hypothetically had were nullified by his location. But my folks did not take no for an answer. They counter-attacked and how. Essentially, they said that I had no right to be choosy now (because of what had happened). LTDSWs cannot be choosers, you get the drift. Let’s get one thing straight. This “thing” did not happen to me. Someone did something wrong, and I get the short straw?

And I was old. Oh and I am old. All the boys my age are married. Oh and 28 is really old. All the good boys are married. And did I mention, I am old. This retaliation happened during the course of 2 phone calls one of which was taken in the office. Bad idea. “Umm.. mom, you made me cry in the office. I am hanging up now”

Whether I like it or not, my folks are going ahead with this. Next step – we want a picture of you. Oh lord. I resignedly started scouring through my vast trove of photos to find one decent image. And this is when it becomes even clearer that the Jups and Arranged Marriage are about as compatible as bejeweled flats and toe fungus. I had much trouble finding a picture. Here are some of the reasons why most of my pictures failed the test …the demure Indian girl test.

Jups shows cleavage (very difficult to avoid in my case, the good lord made me curvy)
Jups is wearing a very short dress, a strapless dress, etc.
Jups is out in some beautiful place, has asked a passerby/friend to take a picture, it’s a gorgeous picture but she is wearing sunglasses (D’oh!)
Jups has a glass of booze in her hand (
Jups has a bottle of booze in her hand
Jups has green eyes
Jups has blue eyes
Random cute guy-friend has arm around Jups (

I grew weary but finally found one cute picture…the dress was low cut but the jacket covered it up, just about. No coloured lenses. Fresh make-up, not over the top, big earrings and happy smile. But wait…what’s this? A humongous bloody steak (hey, you either eat medium rare, or you don’t eat steak). Oh sweet baby Jesus. Reason number 7,893 why Jups and arranged marriage are as perfect a coupling as chocolate icecream and raw fish.
I cropped that shit out. A part of the plate is still visible but hey, that pinkish red liquid could be anything. Try raspberry consommé? Yeah that works.

After all that jazz, my mom finally overruled that picture because it was badly lit and instead went with some cute-as-a-button picture of me with the Niagara falls in the background. This is not going to end well.


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