Chronicles of Shaadi.com, Part one:

Ok, look, I realize I need therapy but I can’t afford it at the moment. I was thinking about putting a Paypal link on this blog to see who would get exhausted with me enough to pay for my therapy.

Anyways, and but, I must tell you about shaadi.com. It’s an Indian Dating website. Currently it’s my only venue for dating. Currently I’m going insane.

But let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, I must reveal the insidious, neuroticness, and fantasy of this very valuable marriage site. The word shaadi means marriage. Look, I’ve been on shaadi.com for like three years and ain't nobody put a ring on this finger.

I know, I know, I’m relentlessly annoying, I’m bad at life very often. But I’m not hideous, I’m not thin, but I’m not like an elephant or anything. Not that there’s anything wrong with elephants (you heard about the animal rights group got real pissed because Obama swatted a fly). Well let me let you be a fly on the wall while I describe men exclusively from shaadi.com:

Bachelor #1—I swear on the Bible or whatever, OK the Guru Granth Sahib (Holy Scripture of the Sikhs) (We’ll get into that later) anyways as I promise this is the truth this guy asked me to, how should I put this knowing my father could read this one day…this guy asked me ON THE TELE---If I would perform certain acts with another man that he would find from the newspaper (he chose a black man) (this is not about oppression, I swear to you) he wanted me to perform these acts in front of him with this other character. Apparently he had done this with a previous girlfriend. !!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yeah, I know, I know, you have questions. Concerns. I feel dirty even talking about it.

Bachelor #2—Tells me on our very first date that a Kiss is a commitment. Apparently he does not kiss anyone unless he is sure to be committed to them. See the thing is the man was born in the United States of America. He was good looking, charming, good job…I’m not saying you need to be going around kissing every tom, dick and harry (those are the right names right?) but people please. Then HE proceeds to reject ME. I couldn’t even get a I –reject you-back-right- back-at you-word in.

Bachelor #3—Tells me I’m the one. We had two dates. I told him I wasn’t the one. He proceeds to tell me in July 2009 that this could set him back months. He won’t be dating again until 2010. He also says he doesn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to be with him. My good friend said she felt the same way about herself. Fine. Good. Feel that way, it’s good for your, you know, self and shit, but do not tell ME that line of garbage. He was a whiney two year old when I told him our two date love affair was over.

God this is making me tired. This is what we women have to go through. OK, OK, they are not all like that. I have met some really cool guys. I haven’t stayed in touch with a single one of them, but well, bygones. Tales of shaadi are not over, but this is just really pissing me off.

So why do I still do this? Why do I still date? Why do I still use the Internet?

Alright, I’ll say it: I believe in love. (Is that the name of a cheesy song by like Cher or something?)

It’s a really difficult word to say out loud without feeling like you’re a jerk. Love.

I have no idea where it is, or how to find it, or if I’ll ever really get it. But I’ve been there. And there ain’t nothin’ like it. Hell I even believe in true love.

Don’t ask me what that means, I barely know how to spell it.

So you tell me, where am supposed to go? I go to bookstores, a Muslim man once asked me to be his second wife after stalking me at a Barnes and Noble. There are real winners roaming the bars as well. I go to coffee shops and usually end up in conversations with gay men for some reason. I love my gays but, c’mon.

So I’m gonna try some other stuff…since I promised myself that I would try to find myself and the one…I’ll be creative. It’s just hard. It’s so hard. It’s hard to date, it’s hard to be single, it’s hard to be in a relationship and I don’t even want to know how hard it is to be married.

Does it ever get easier to love? (I predict that to be Cher’s next comeback song).

nina