Cheap Entertainment OR The Joys of The Indian Arranged Marriage
If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that my parents are in a deep-rooted conspiracy to get me married off to the next passing bachelor. If you haven't been here before, well, now you know. Things have reached a point, where they're one step short of rushing into the street and grabbing the nearest human saying, "Marry my daughter, please, please, aaaaaaaa!"
Of course, I exaggerate. They won't say "aaaaaaa!"
Anyway, in the course of this delightful journey, I'm being subject to matrimonial websites filled to the seams with invading hordes of eligible single males. And here I use the words 'eligible' and 'males' in the loosest sense, believe me.
Ok, so not all of these guys are quite so bad. Some look passably good, others seem interesting and a startling lot of them come across as quite normal (which is a great thing for most women*)
The ones who really make my day though, are the humble ones. Those who have modesty emanating from their profiles like body odour from an overworked track team.
Hi, they say, I'm a caring, considerate, intelligent, tall, dark, handsome, hardworking, decent, passionate, strong, spiritual, moral, ethical, good looking, fair, fairer, fairest, warm, organised, loyal, stable, compassionate, pleasant, talented, soft spoken, quiet, emotional, ambitious, sincere human being. I'm looking for a partner who's all these things and beautiful, caring, simple, sophisticated, a great cook, great with kids, great with parents, great in the kitchen, great at her job, can balance her job with her work, can take care of me, can be with me, can share my life, can travel with me, can be Martha Stewart and Angelina Jolie rolled into one curvy, impossibly attractive package.
To all these wonderful specimens of mankind I can only say: Darling, I work in advertising. So pull the other one. It's got bells on.
* Not for me, naturally. Like my friend Jerry, who ended things with a girl because she was too happy and optimistic, I too seem to be repelled by perfectly normal, decent men, who'll actually not screw me over at the first opportunity. In other words, I'm an evolutionary dead-end. And a little weird too.