Tuesday, May 04, 2004

The thing I hate about my mum is the needless secrecy. Even with the most insignificant things, the secrecy must be maintained. God forbid she should tell me what the plan is or what's going on. Unlike last time though, I have a bit of an idea what she's upto. It could include a possible trip to dubai, which is more than okay with me. The reason she wants to go and the subject of the secrecy is the scouting of possible eligible young men who are 'jaan-nay walay' of her family and friends for me.

Is it just me who is dragged through this insane ritual, kicking and dragging my heels, or does everyone have to go through this bull that we call a post-pubesence ritual? I remember the last one, "a doctor", gushed my mum's friend. Turns out the guy was actually a man, as in nearly thirty, complete with mullah-beard and, it would seem, complete lack of ability to speak or make eye contact. For the love of God, I'm the girl and I'm not sharmaofying, so why the hell are you?

It would seem my parents don't know shit about me if they think I can get along with a man who sharmaofies more than I do. Honestly, I'd probably drive the poor guy to his grave if he was that repressive. After that, it would be back to the horse fair to find me another stud. I detest our marriage system. Can't I be allowed to take my own goddamn time and find someone I can concievably marry and not bully to death in my own time? Say, by the time I'm *gasp* thirty?

On a lighter note, I do think I've managed to scare Abid a bit with certain excerpts and torture methods.

Misha at Tuesday, May 04, 2004

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