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My friend Divya works the overnight shift at the BBC in London and stays out clubbing on her nights off.Imagine my surprise when I discovered she was on keralamatrimony.com, courtesy of her mother, who took the liberty of listing Divya’s hobbies as shopping and movies.hat’s not to say I haven’t come to appreciate what Indian men have to offer, which is a type of seriousness, a clarity of intent.I’ve never heard from an Indian man the New York beg-off phrase I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship right now. Indian men also seem to share my belief that Westerners have made the progression toward marriage unnecessarily agonizing.(I was under the impression her hobbies were more along the lines of trance music and international politics.) Though she’s long favored pubgoing blokes, Divya, like me, doesn’t discount the possibility that the urologist from Trivandrum or the IT guy could just be the onean idea patently unthinkable to us in our twenties.It’s become second nature for women like us to straddle the two dating worlds.
A 44-year-old Jewish doctor managed to make my dad’s first cut: He was a doctor.When I go out on a first date with an Indian man, I find myself saying things I would never utter to an American.Like, I would expect my husband to fully share domestic chores. But after a decade of Juan Carloses and short-lived affairs with married men and Craigslist flirtations and emotionally bankrupt boyfriends and, oddly, the most painful of all, the guys who just never call, it no longer seems like the most outlandish possibility.Maybe that would have meant they’d given up on me, that they’d stopped viewing me as a not-yet-married girl but as an unmarriageable woman who’d ruined her youth by being too choosy and strong-headed. This way, the aunties can still swing by the kids’ table as I’m sucking on a Pepsi and chucking a young cousin on the chin, and ask me, When are you getting married?