Memoirs of a dater

What follows is a retrospective of my golden years of dating. At this stage I was totally against the tea party but realised that family introductions were not about to stop, it would be naive and arrogant of me to discount them altogether, after all I knew many happy couples who had met this way and two of my closest friends (now happily married) would also meet their husbands through that very method.
So the strategy was tweaked a little, I would be allowed to get to know potential boys in my own time, my own way, without any family present. At the same time I joined an internet dating site, went speed dating and found that friends were keen to set me up too.
A flood of photographs, email addresses and phone numbers followed.
So, here's a synopsis of my experience:
I realised that you can find out a lot about a person from one phone call; there was the boy whose only hobby was eating chicken out of buckets, the boy who wanted a wife for more than one reason (he could use his hand to keep himself perfectly satisfied), the boy who told me that astrologically we were the perfect match so we should set a wedding date, the boy who promised a first date of dinner, theatre and red roses (which never materialised), the boy who sent a text after the first phone call to declare his undying love followed by suicidal messages at the suggestion that this might be unrequited (he later received medical help) and the boy who requested photographs of me in different positions plus late night skype sessions.
And sometimes there's just nothing to talk about with a complete stranger; I once had a conversation solely about the weather, I talked to one boy about trains, another was interested in women's clothes, another had a thing for McDonalds milkshakes and I once spoke to a boy about beds.

Each experience has been unique and I discovered that not everyone wants to chat on the phone before meeting. There was an investment banker (who I got on quite well with over email) who suggested meeting up for coffee one lunchtime as we worked quite close to eachother. So I accepted and suggested we meet at the Starbucks which was mid-way between our offices. Little did I know that this capitalist had a social conscience...he replied with a rant about Starbucks not supporting fair trade and how he could not possibly purchase coffee from a company that was causing poverty for third world farmers. His solution was for me to go into Starbucks and purchase my coffee, while he waited outside, and we would then go to an independent coffee shop that only stocked fair trade products to continue our 'date'. Suffice to say, the date never happened. To this day, I still can't quite understand how an investment banker could be completely unaware of the role of the global financial industry in creating and sustaining the inequalities that exist between the world's rich and poor. The mind boggles.
After a long time I realised that perhaps I had wasted a lot of time. There were boys who I got along well with and spent hours chatting to on the phone, only for it to lead to nothing or an awkward meeting after months of phone calls where you realise that the image you have created in your head is not quite what you get in real life.
I distinctly remember getting to boy number 8 and declaring that number 11 would be the man I married.

The next round...

I moved on from that experience quickly, still full of hope that the next boy would be my prince charming...
Little did I know that the next set up would be an exercise in regression back to the good old days of punjabi matrimony when the fathers and their respective entourages met and sealed the deal.

So, I woke up one Sunday morning and went downstairs to find my dad and some male relatives dressed rather smartly, just about to leave the house. I didn't think much of it but enquired further and discovered that they were going to view a potential boy for me. I was a bit surprised by this modus operandi, after all it was the 21st century. Anyway, they returned a few hours later with a brown envelope, in which there were some professional photographs of the boy. My dad was seemingly bowled over by him: he was apparently tall, good-looking, well spoken, his dad was nice and they owned lots of land in India. What more could a girl want?
Looking at his photograph it was absolutely clear to me that beauty is definitely in the eye of the beholder but my dad had decided that this potential alliance should be pursued further.
A couple of weeks later, again on a Sunday, I was told to dress in a nice suit because some visitors were coming. The visitors being the boy and his parents. I was reluctant but went along with it. The time came and I heard a knock at the front door so I hotfooted it to the kitchen and made myself look busy like a good indian girl should. The boy's mother walked in and looked me up and down.
I could hear laughter coming from the front room so my dad was obviously doing a good job entertaining the boy and his dad. Some time later I was told to go into the dining room, about a minute later the boy entered. We had an awkward conversation and there was no chemistry.
I knew that saying no to this boy would be difficult because of the time and energy already invested and my dad's excitement at the prospect of this match. But I did it, this experience made me realise that my potential marriage should be about me and my partner first and foremost, its not a political treaty to be signed by the heads of both families. Too much third-party involvement in the early stages only leads to higher expectations and more pressure. No more 'tea parties' for me.

The beginning...

So, today I have a terrible headache, I've had to cancel a phone call with a prospective suitor as I don't think I can muster up the requisite charm and sweetness needed to entice a punjabi guy to marry me (well, not marriage straight away, we'd have a couple of dates first).
"But it's 2012" I hear you say "isn't this all a bit archaic." The answer is yes, but what alternative does a 30 year old successful Indian girl who failed to meet the perfect guy in her 20s have? It's surprisingly difficult to meet a guy the 'western' way and although my parents have been concerned about my single status since I was 24, I never took the arranged dating thing that seriously or saw any value in it, until recently, and now I'm thinking this may be my only hope.
So this is my story so far: I'm a second generation British Indian girl who did well academically, followed my talents and interests and found a career that I love. I've travelled, sampled the delights of the big city and acquired some random hobbies. In parallel, there has always been a big part of me that's intrigued by my heritage, leading to lots of trips back to the motherland.
Growing up, all of my uncles, aunts, cousins etc married into the same community; punjabi, jatt, Sikh (to be specific), so naturally I assumed I would do the same when the time came. I grew up safe in the knowledge that the perfect guy would be presented to me once I was ready to settle down, so I never gave much thought to relationships. Oh, how I was wrong!
I had my first 'tea party' at age 24, briefly, a family friend contacted my parents to tell them about a 'boy' she knew who would be a good match for me. So, on a Sunday morning, my parents and I made our way to the family friends house where we would meet the boy. There I was, dressed in a punjabi suit, about to walk into the living room to set eyes on my first suitor. I was greeted by his parents, his aunt and uncle, and a selection of his sisters and cousins, who all proceeded to look me up and down. I was taken aback but quietly sat down. The host then suggested that the boy and I go into the kitchen to talk. I followed him into the kitchen; the first thing I noticed were solid gold hoops in both ears and gold sovereign rings on his fingers. We went through the usual niceties and then the conversation seemed to stall, I realised that the boy and I had nothing in common apart from our ancestry and age (although he was 4 or 5 years older than me). I steered the conversation towards dating and marriage and he explained that it's perfectly acceptable for a boy to be aged 28 and single, however, if a girl should find herself in that unfortunate position, she should consider herself 'left on the shelf'. He also added that whatever happens, a boy will be fine because he can always go back to india to find a bride. Needless to say, that's where the conversation ended.

We went back into the living room where his aunt announced that it was a 'yes' from their family and the decision was mine. So, I said I'd need to think about it. I thought about it in the car on the way home, reiterated the conversation we had had and told my parents that my answer was no. My parents passed this on to the matchmaker who was baffled by my decision to turn down a boy who owned a Mercedes. That was my first experience of Indian dating and its been quite a journey...