The Marriage Mafia

Writing this I was immediately tempted to begin with “my Indian back ground” but then I stopped to think. I’m from the kind of family where even my granny has always said, “don’t rush it, honey.” So really this has nothing to do with my upbringing and more to do with cultural influence.

Have you ever gone to a wedding and been cornered by a white haired pixie who has decided that after ninety years of life it is her sole purpose to ensure you are married to one of  her great great grandson’s sister’s daughter’s cat’s stepmom’s son?

No?

Maybe you recognise her better as the old lady your mum sent you to greet. The one with the slightly purple hair surrounded by other eclectically dressed individuals? You know, the table all the fifteen to twenty eight year olds were trying desperately to avoid. Keeping their eyes low so that they do not make eye contact because then we have to smile and ask if they need anything.

Oh my, don’t get me wrong.

We aren’t avoiding the work nor the old ladies. To be honest, we love them just as much as everyone else does. We only avoid one thing and one thing only.

We avoid THE questionnaire.

See, once one hits the teens there’s a standard set of questions old ladies feel obliged to ask us all. Every innocent conversation is centered around them finding the opportunity to slip it in. You could be simply delivering a glass of water that they requested, serving their table or simply sitting next to one of them for more than a minute.  Eventually they will hit you with the questionnaire.

Now you’re probably wondering why this is such a bad thing. Surely there’s no harm in answering a few questions from an old lady right…

Wrong.

Take my hands and follow me as I lead a guided tour down a rather famous part of town called memory lane…

See, this specific part of memory lane leads me to a time when wedding bells graced the town and my cousin, in a gown made with threads of silk and adorned with the sparkling tear drops of the tiny fairy hands that stitched it, waltzed gracefully down the aisle to her prince. For her, this was a day of fairy tales and fortune. The day she married the man of her dreams.

For me… Well the day went a little differently. See, in order for the wedding to be a magical, glitch-free experience someone was tasked with the job of finding pixies and munchkins to help us set up and run the show. But since it was probably left to a man who was freaking out at the thought of one of us getting married, it never got done. So as usual all of us “small” people in the family were crowned honorary pixies and forced awake at the ass crack of dawn to offer our services.

Knowing me, that means I probably had a sum total of two hours of sleep the night before and then proceeded to gorge myself on the free flowing coffee as we worked our butts off to set up in time. I’m not complaining but (just for future reference) do not convince yourself you’re lucid enough to handle witty old ladies twelve sleepless hours later. Needless to say I was pretty glazed over on a caffeine-induced high by the time the evening rolled around.

But since there was no time for naps, I told myself that if I’d managed to pretty myself up and perfect my winged liner I would survive. And that, ladies and gentleman, is how I found myself panic-stricken, sweaty  and clutching a basket of trinkets while sleepily fielding an old lady’s prying questions before she proclaimed that she had a grandson  at home who would love a gift too.

Thinking that this grandson was a tiny tot maybe four or five, I cheekily handed her an extra chocolate and said, “Tell him Ra’eesah sent it.” Needless to say my teasing grin fell off my face when her reply was, “What grade are you in? He’d love you.” I blinked twice and then replied with, “I’m not at school. I’m first year varsity.” thinking that this would end whatever matchmaking plans she had brewing in her mind.

But alas, luck was not on my side and she simply brushed it off with a flippant, “Only a year older than him. Still a perfect match.” Lucky for me, my mother was walking past and quickly intervened by whisking me off to attend to some made up emergency. From that day on I learnt my lesson. Unless you want to be match made, keep all interactions to a minimum of yes, no, maybe and “jee, I’ll get it for you”.

Now that we’ve had our story time, let’s address the real issues. There’s nothing wrong with the method nor the questions of old ladies. It’s really just the resonating after effects.Often times we are left feeling pressured and confused when it comes to the topic of marriage because of interactions such as this. Many girls become convinced that after a certain age they will not find love or good matches. Guys feel pressured to be rich, established and own massive homes before they can even consider looking for a girl.

Let’s get real for a second.

Girls you are not a carton of milk. You do not have a best before date nor an expiry date. When it is the right time the man for you will be in your path. Do not go looking for frogs when your prince is already destined to eventually find you. It is not your job to force or hang onto men who cannot respect or fulfill your needs. If it feels wrong it probably is. Take your time, enjoy your life and your freedom. Find yourself. Better yourself. Be happy. These will all attract the RIGHT people to you, automatically.

Boys, the right girl is with you not for status, name, gain or fame. She wants to love you and be loved by you. She will stand tall when you are falling apar
t and turn to you when she is at her weakest. A girl who is truly worthy of your love and marriage proposal will be willing to make do with the little you offer her and will work with you (not against you) to build the kind of future you both envision.

So think carefully. Consider the options. And until you’re truly ready….

Avoid the Marriage Mafia (A.K.A Granny Central).

Hiding at the back of the hall and eating a samoosa,

Brokebella.

May 21, 2016May 22, 2016 by Ra'eesah Categories: Diary, Story Time, The World Around Me, WomenTags: advice, beauty, brokebella, diary, fairy tales, marriage, match makers, my thoughts, story, Thoughts, women 6 Comments