Posted by: Lynx January 13, 2016
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Candid Verses: Of Marriage and Men
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“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness!”
I must confess the first few months after the break-up were pretty hard, as I brooded and sulked like a sick chicken reminiscing years of wasted years. But then, like most adult resilient Nepali guys, I blamed "her" for everything. Walla! It made me feel a whole lot better. As winter turned to spring, all the relationship experts among my family, friends, and relatives joined in to turn around my life with a instant solution –the panacea to all Nepali’s problems- MARRIAGE. Reluctantly, unwillingly, and hesitantly, I agreed to the norms of such an arrangement, because according to the experts, I had now reached the age of no reasoning.
Thus, the first step of my healing didn’t begin with a self-reflection but rather with a well-orchestrated selfie, just enough to hide my receding hairline, taken from my newly minted smart phone, and sent all over the world (to Nepali families that I had no idea existed), and affixed also with my over-hyped resume, as i was told. Slowly at first, then steadier, a deluge of prospects came reckoning, each with a disclaimer along the lines of “If you don’t agree to this, you’re losing a chance of a lifetime!” It is surprising how everyone else knows exactly what I want in life, except me. Anyways, I went along with the circus.
“She’s a social worker – she works with children. It will be much easier for you in a few years.” Well, of course! It was not the prospect of the social worker that appealed to me, but this insight that she may even earn less than my non-profit research job paved way to the romanticism of future struggles, especially when we’d have children. You see, I am a far-sighted guy.
“What are you doing?” she texted via G-Chat which I had just begun to learn on the smart phone. “I am cooking chicken - I like them crisp” I boasted and slid the phone into my pocket. A haunting silence ensued. Slightly irritated, I checked my phone and realized in horror what I had typed. Darn the AUTO-CORRECT. My text read un-apologetically “I am cooking children – I like them crisp” So that’s that!
Unfazed with this first fiasco, I was resolute to move on to the second- an accountant, a perfect family material according to the sources. Now that I had mastered the art of g-chat, things seemed to go smoothly until we decided to meet up – in an Afghan restaurant in Jackson Heights. After exchanging the pleasantries, she turned serious “You don’t laugh much during our conversations, do you?” I have to be honest here, but she wasn’t that funny and I wasn’t exactly cracking jokes. I managed a smile and ordered the lamb shank and motioned to her. “I already had dinner. And I have to leave soon. My cousins are waiting outside” Woah! Without much thought, I blurted out “So what do you want in life?” She answered back hurriedly but in a serious vein “I have two dogs now, and I want at least three more!” I would have wanted a more thorough explanation, but timing was inappropriate. She had to leave and the lamb-shank had arrived. I was in a dilemma. They say you always have to be at the right time at the right place for these things, and this probably wasn’t!
The next set-up couldn’t be more fitting. She was on a business pitch in downtown Manhattan, and I had been unemployed for a month. An entrepreneur and the unemployed- a match made in Wall Street depression. We sat down in uncomfortable silence preoccupied by our thoughts – her probably in her business pitch the next day and me in my current wallet denting endeavor in the $$$$ restaurant. I should have YELP’d harder, but it was too late now. Trying to distract myself, I asked about her business pitch. She stood there with her hands crossed looking right at me – well right through me and uttered a few quiet words. I asked if she wanted some wine hoping she wouldn’t. She didn’t. Feeling better, I cracked a few spontaneous jokes to the silence that was prolonging to which she gave a wry smile. As we finished our meal quietly, I asked her “So, what kind of food do you like?” she shrugged. “I like all the east Asian food – Thai Vietnamese Indonesian” I continued. “What do you like”?
She took her time, finished her meal, wiped her face, and crossed her arms again and blurted “GOOD FOOD!” Months later, I learned that Good Food meant French food- if only I had known!
After a few more unsatisfying and unrelenting set-ups, I told everyone that I needed a break. Things simply don’t work this way, do they?
“Listen! You’re not young anymore. You have to learn to compromise. Not everything will ever be perfect. We’re old now” My parents lamented with their usual emotional blackmail.
“Listen! You’re still young. Do not compromise. Everything will end up being perfect” suggested my newly married cousin, who seemed a little lost.
“Listen! You need to change. Change your hairstyle. Fashion. Be asshole to the gals” suggested my younger cousins.
“Listen! You’re a great catch. Do not change anything. Be nice to gals” suggested my married friends.
There was no letting up. It was only a matter of time the deluge started again-
“We’ve found a perfect gal for you in the US. Infact, the mother called us and pleaded that you add her in FB. All you need to say is yes!” my father conveyed the prospect beaming with a smile.
“If it all works, we should start planning marriage dates to give your siblings enough time to take holidays” My mother joined in the skype, of the certainty of the latest prospect.
Hold on a minute – I protested “I don’t even know who u r talking about!”
“You will – she’s the only daughter. You don’t want to lose out on this one!” echoed my sister from the back.
To be contd...
**************************************************
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness!”
I must confess the first few months after the break-up were pretty hard, as I brooded and sulked like a sick chicken reminiscing years of wasted years. But then, like most adult resilient Nepali guys, I blamed "her" for everything. Walla! It made me feel a whole lot better. As winter turned to spring, all the relationship experts among my family, friends, and relatives joined in to turn around my life with a instant solution –the panacea to all Nepali’s problems- MARRIAGE. Reluctantly, unwillingly, and hesitantly, I agreed to the norms of such an arrangement, because according to the experts, I had now reached the age of no reasoning.
Thus, the first step of my healing didn’t begin with a self-reflection but rather with a well-orchestrated selfie, just enough to hide my receding hairline, taken from my newly minted smart phone, and sent all over the world (to Nepali families that I had no idea existed), and affixed also with my over-hyped resume, as i was told. Slowly at first, then steadier, a deluge of prospects came reckoning, each with a disclaimer along the lines of “If you don’t agree to this, you’re losing a chance of a lifetime!” It is surprising how everyone else knows exactly what I want in life, except me. Anyways, I went along with the circus.
“She’s a social worker – she works with children. It will be much easier for you in a few years.” Well, of course! It was not the prospect of the social worker that appealed to me, but this insight that she may even earn less than my non-profit research job paved way to the romanticism of future struggles, especially when we’d have children. You see, I am a far-sighted guy.
“What are you doing?” she texted via G-Chat which I had just begun to learn on the smart phone. “I am cooking chicken - I like them crisp” I boasted and slid the phone into my pocket. A haunting silence ensued. Slightly irritated, I checked my phone and realized in horror what I had typed. Darn the AUTO-CORRECT. My text read un-apologetically “I am cooking children – I like them crisp” So that’s that!
Unfazed with this first fiasco, I was resolute to move on to the second- an accountant, a perfect family material according to the sources. Now that I had mastered the art of g-chat, things seemed to go smoothly until we decided to meet up – in an Afghan restaurant in Jackson Heights. After exchanging the pleasantries, she turned serious “You don’t laugh much during our conversations, do you?” I have to be honest here, but she wasn’t that funny and I wasn’t exactly cracking jokes. I managed a smile and ordered the lamb shank and motioned to her. “I already had dinner. And I have to leave soon. My cousins are waiting outside” Woah! Without much thought, I blurted out “So what do you want in life?” She answered back hurriedly but in a serious vein “I have two dogs now, and I want at least three more!” I would have wanted a more thorough explanation, but timing was inappropriate. She had to leave and the lamb-shank had arrived. I was in a dilemma. They say you always have to be at the right time at the right place for these things, and this probably wasn’t!
The next set-up couldn’t be more fitting. She was on a business pitch in downtown Manhattan, and I had been unemployed for a month. An entrepreneur and the unemployed- a match made in Wall Street depression. We sat down in uncomfortable silence preoccupied by our thoughts – her probably in her business pitch the next day and me in my current wallet denting endeavor in the $$$$ restaurant. I should have YELP’d harder, but it was too late now. Trying to distract myself, I asked about her business pitch. She stood there with her hands crossed looking right at me – well right through me and uttered a few quiet words. I asked if she wanted some wine hoping she wouldn’t. She didn’t. Feeling better, I cracked a few spontaneous jokes to the silence that was prolonging to which she gave a wry smile. As we finished our meal quietly, I asked her “So, what kind of food do you like?” she shrugged. “I like all the east Asian food – Thai Vietnamese Indonesian” I continued. “What do you like”?
She took her time, finished her meal, wiped her face, and crossed her arms again and blurted “GOOD FOOD!” Months later, I learned that Good Food meant French food- if only I had known!
After a few more unsatisfying and unrelenting set-ups, I told everyone that I needed a break. Things simply don’t work this way, do they?
“Listen! You’re not young anymore. You have to learn to compromise. Not everything will ever be perfect. We’re old now” My parents lamented with their usual emotional blackmail.
“Listen! You’re still young. Do not compromise. Everything will end up being perfect” suggested my newly married cousin, who seemed a little lost.
“Listen! You need to change. Change your hairstyle. Fashion. Be asshole to the gals” suggested my younger cousins.
“Listen! You’re a great catch. Do not change anything. Be nice to gals” suggested my married friends.
There was no letting up. It was only a matter of time the deluge started again-
“We’ve found a perfect gal for you in the US. Infact, the mother called us and pleaded that you add her in FB. All you need to say is yes!” my father conveyed the prospect beaming with a smile.
“If it all works, we should start planning marriage dates to give your siblings enough time to take holidays” My mother joined in the skype, of the certainty of the latest prospect.
Hold on a minute – I protested “I don’t even know who u r talking about!”
“You will – she’s the only daughter. You don’t want to lose out on this one!” echoed my sister from the back.
To be contd...