The hidden truth...the harsh reality...

My new job was going well, except for the fact that I was often working until 10 or 11pm.  It meant that I often needed to get out of the office for an hour or so after work as a break, and I had the perfect excuse.  Joe would take the subway up to my office where I'd meet up with him and offer him a lift home.  Despite everything that had happened between us, we couldn't shake the connection we had.  We could talk about everything and yet nothing.  It was natural and easy and just...worked.  There was something there that neither of us, it seemed, could ignore.  So, the drive home was a perfect excuse for us to see each other on pretty much a daily basis.  And the best part was that, when it didn't end in a high-five (I hate(!) the high-five), it ended with a kiss on my forehead.  Sigh.... :)

On some level, I think my parents knew that I had liked Joe.  At the time, I'm not sure if they knew to what extent, but the number of times I had mentioned him as 'my best friend, Joe', they must've known to some degree that I was either seeing him or really liked him.  Looking back on things, that was definitely the hardest part of the relationship - hiding it.  I could never share with my parents what I was going through and what I was feeling.  And maybe I wouldn't have even if I could, but the option was never there. It was always about hiding things and twisting stories ever so slightly to ensure they wouldn't find out.  And, a lot of guilt came with that.  I hated hiding things from them - it was far from ideal.  But, I imagine it's what most Indian women go through to try and live a relatively normal life and trying to balance their Eastern values with their Western cultural surroundings.

When I look back at it now, what I find most interesting is that I hid it from everyone in our community.  I didn't tell anyone for fear that it would get back to my parents, which would be far worse than me telling them myself!  By not telling anyone else, however, I never knew what other girls my age were going through. I didn't tell my cousins or family friends and chances are good that they were dating outside of our religion and going through similar scenarios.  But, did they not tell me for the same reasons?  Did we all have secret dating lives that we were, on some level, ashamed of or feared?  I wasn't ashamed of Joe - I loved him and wanted to shout it out to the world.  But, I couldn't.  I would no longer be a 'good daughter' and my family's reputation would be in jeopardy if I had been caught dating a Muslim man.  It was such an old-fashioned way of thinking.  My parents believed it and it frustrated me that in today's world, in today's society, that they still cared.  But, how could I blame them?  Right or wrong, it's what they knew.  It was engrained in them.

The forgotten bio-data...

Joe and I hadn't spoken for awhile.  He had moved back home by the time I returned from my East-coast tour and we were both starting new jobs.  We were exchanging emails and every so often, were talking on the phone.  Nothing serious.  We tried our best to remain friends.

-------------------------

I had completely forgotten about the bio-data that I had given to my  mom before my post-university travels.  A couple of months passed, when I received an email from someone.

"Hi Anika,

Friends of my parents sent an email that they received from friends of your parents...I think.

To tell you a little bit about myself, I have been working in Toronto for the last two years.  I like to read, play sports, travel...you know, the usual.  I like to hang out with my friends, go for dinner, watch movies, etc.

What about you?"

Thinking about how random this is and not knowing how to respond, I take it with a grain of salt, keep an open mind and write back:

"Hi there,

How are you?  How is your week going?

It's great that you like to travel and play sports!  What sports in particular do you enjoy?  Where have you traveled to?  I also love to play sports and travel.  I've always loved watching hockey and recently, I joined a hockey team.  I've been traveling a lot, too!  I just came back from a three-week trip trip to the East Coast and loved it!

I look forward to hearing from you.

take care,

A"

A few days goes by with no reply, and a part of me wonders if he will even bother to write back.  It was an awkward first exchange of emails and I wouldn't blame the guy.  He was put in an awkward spot to email me and maybe wasn't keen on the idea of being set up.  I was less keen on the idea.  Alas, a reply came through:

"Hey Anika,

It's great that you love to travel and play sports!  I love figure skating!  It's so much fun and I'm a big fan.  In fact, I just came back from Halifax where they had the World Figure Skating Championships!  My favourite skaters were Tatiana Totmianina and Maxim Marinin!!

I love to travel, too!  I recently went to Hollywood to watch the taping of Will & Grace and the Price is Right! So cool!

We have a lot in common!"

Yes.  Perhaps we had a little too much in common?!?!

2003...it's time to get married!

I had just finished my undergrad and had a few weeks off before I was due to start working full time at a top marketing firm.  I was excited.  I had finished my exams a few days shy of my 21st birthday, I was off to volunteer at a fantastic conference for high school students for a week, then was planning to enjoy a couple of quiet weeks touring the Eastern Canadian provinces by Greyhound.

My parents, however, had something else in mind.  I was 21 (and according to them, I had been 21 since the day after I turned 20).  I had completed my undergraduate degree (in Science, very marketable) and was going to start working at a top marketing firm (even more marketable)!  It was bio-data time.

I had barely put down my pencil in my last exam when I received a phone call from my mum.

"You're going to have to put together a bio-data for me", she says.

"A what?"

"A bio-data.  Put all of your details on paper so that I can give it to prospective parents."

I oblige and email it off to her.

"Na na na, not like this", she says.  I can imagine her shaking her head is disapproval of what she's read. "Be more specific with what you will be doing at work, what was your degree in, and stuff like this".

Being naive, I oblige again, not knowing much about the chaotic world of Indian 'dating' I've just entered by sending her this paragraph that vaguely describes me.  It was atypical in that I had not included my day/time/date of birth, but simply my age, and I knew she would be less than thrilled.  Somehow, it passed the inspection!

I traveled to my conference before a blissful three weeks touring through the Atlantic provinces.  I had forgotten about the bio-data and started work soon after I returned.

The mess of it all...

Joe and I were happily dating and it had been about 6 months.  He had gone off to China for a few weeks and I had sent with him a hilarious 5 or 6-month anniversary card that he had strict orders not to open until the actual day, which he did.  Apparently some Chinese people had found it hilarious to see a brown tourist in China, on his own, reading a crazy card covered in pictures, so they asked to take a picture with him.  We wrote to each other and exchanged the letters once he was back.  It was everything that the first 6 months of a relationship should be and I was incredibly happy! :)

We were having a chat about our dream homes, one afternoon.  This led to dream jobs, dream futures, etc.  At the time, we both had different ideas of what we were looking for but could find common ground.  We talked for hours.  We were well into the evening, had consumed a pizza, some dessert and were still talking about ideals and how we were going to achieve everything we ever wanted.  But then, out of the blue, Joe says... "Well, it seems as though we are trying to achieve different things".  "Sure, but everyone has different visions of their future - the size of one's house or whether or our future is going to turn out exactly as we describe it now isn't the end of the world...things change and we'll see how things go", I said.  "No," he answered, "I just think we're headed in different directions and so perhaps we need to think about that".  Okay, I thought.

We sat in silence for awhile.  He spoke first and suggested that maybe we split up.  Since the summer was there and neither of us were sure of how things would work out, maybe it was easier to break up now than later.  After all, he was Muslim and I was Hindu and although that didn't stop us from falling in love and getting to this point, maybe we should try and stop it before it becomes more chaotic...since we don't envision the exact same future anyway, it might just be easier.

I didn't really know what to think.  It sort of made logical sense.  And that was it.

I went home the next day and took a bath...and I blasted the stereo to try and muffle the noise of me bawling over the first man I had dated, the first mad I'd kissed, the first man I'd held hands with, and the first man that I had loved.

We spoke intermittently that summer.  I didn't know how to deal with a breakup, so I called him more often than I should have.  I missed our friendship more than anything else.  He eventually wrote me an email to say that I likely wouldn't like the guy that he was going to be in his last year.  He had been elected as the President of his fraternity.  He was going to be living at the frat house and just wanted to spend the year partying.  (Lightbulb...AHHHHH...so this is why he wanted to break up with me.)

I let him go as much as I could.  The year went by and there were days where we hung out and others when we avoided each other.  It was tough because I had developed strong friendships with many of his fraternity brothers.  We fought a lot over the year as he would mistreat me and I would try to maintain my dignity and not fall for him again.  But, when we had news to share, somehow we always found each other to share it with first.  The love between us had never really faded, though each of us fought it.  He fought harder than I did.  I got an interview with one of the top marketing firms in the world and he was the first to find out.  He got a fantastic job upon graduating and he ran down the corridor to catch me before I disappeared to tell me, even though we weren't really on speaking terms at the time.  We knew we couldn't be together.  He tried to cover up the feelings he had for me by hanging out with other people and dismissing me.  My mistake was likely that I never hid that I missed him.  He dated other people, I didn't.

It was chaotic.  It was a mess.  We had broken up for the wrong reasons and neither of us had gotten closure out of it.  He moved to the US where his job was and I started my internship at the marketing firm.  We barely spoke.

The following year at school (my last year, while he was working in the US), he was only able to visit home once or twice.  We had written to each other a few times and they were long emails that explained that I deserved to be treated better.  He agreed.  I don't recall what else was involved in the exchanges but it did lead to us agreeing to meet up.  

Joe was scheduled to come over after his frat meeting.  The meeting ran late.  No problem.  By midnight, I was exhausted and needed sleep before my 830am class.  No sign of Joe.  At 230am, there was a knock at my door.  Joe was there.  "Where have you been?!", I asked.  "We went out for beer and wings after the meeting", he replied with no sign of remorse.  I deserved better.  It's how I had been treated the entire year prior, and nothing had changed.

The one...the only...Valentine's Day.

I don't normally believe in Valentine's Day.  The way I see things, everyday should be about the people you love (especially THE person you love) - there shouldn't just be one Hallmark-induced day where men buy roses for the women and take them out to dinner.  It should be random and spontaneous, and should happen throughout the year.  Having said that, I did enjoy all the candy I used to get as a child through mandatory elementary-school-Valentine-exchanges!!

Anyway.  Joe knew that since he was my very first boyfriend, I had also never celebrated Valentine's Day before.  He had given me no hints of any Valentine's Day festivities, so I wasn't expecting anything, nor was I really looking for anything.  It was five days until the day of St. Valentine and I knew he would be working, so we had made low-key dinner plans for the 15th.  I drove him home after classes one day, and he asked me to open the trunk of my car.  Without allowing me to see, he placed something inside and told me that I couldn't look at it until I was home.  Intrigued, I kissed him goodnight and drove back to my house a little faster than usual.

I parked my car and opened the trunk.  Inside, lay a single white rose with a hand-written note reading "Dear Anika,  White represents purity.  You are beautiful, innocent and pure and I feel like I am a kid running around with muddy shoes on.  4 days...  xoxo, Joe".  It was sweet and we ICQ'd late into the night and I fell asleep with huge smile on my face!

The next morning, there was a note in my Students' Union mailbox.  I was to go see his good friend, who happened to be the VP: Finance.  When I went to see him, he was expecting me and handed me a package.  In it, a single orange rose with another hand-written note.  "Dear Anika, Orange represents friendship.  Our friendship is pure and wonderful.  I am so lucky to have you in my life and for us to have such an amazing friendship.  Thank you.  3 days... xoxo, Joe".  

Each day, I was left with a clue on where to find the next rose.  With three days to go, I found a single yellow rose.  The hand-written note said "Dear Anika, Yellow symbolizes happiness.  You make me incredibly happy and for that I am eternally grateful.  2 days... xoxo, Joe".

A single pink rose is what I found next.  The note read: "Dear Anika, Pink stands for admiration and sweetness.  You are an incredibly sweet girl whom I admire so much.  Thank you for being a part of my life.  1 day...xoxo, Joe".

On Valentine's Day, Joe and I didn't see each other.  But, a couple of clues had been left as to where I'd find my last rose.  When I found it, a single red rose lay next to a hand-written note.  "Dear Anika, A red rose symbolizes love.  What more do I need to say?  xoxo, Joe".

The following day, we celebrated our own Valentine's Day.  Joe had mixed a CD together for me, had made a lovely dinner (Wendy's baked potato with Campbell's Soup) and gave me a few small gifts he had purchased and knew I would love.  My first ever piece of jewelry (a silver chain, which I wear to this day as it has become a part of me), a Winnie-the-Pooh picture frame and a Disney Classics CD.  I gave him the photo collage I had been working on along with a few other small things I had made for him.  A fabulous evening that capped off an incredible first (and only) Valentine's.

Cupid's Arrow

Joe and I had many evening walks and quite a few of them ended up in a nearby park.  It was a fantastic park, in the middle of town, where you could get lost for hours.

It had recently snowed (and being in the middle of a snow-belt meant that we had received more than our fair share of the white stuff).  As we were walking through the park, we reached a hill.  It was very tempting to log-roll down the hill and I expressed this to Joe.  He disagreed.

"Well", I said, "have you ever log-rolled down a hill before?".  He hadn't.  As we were both fairly competitive in nature, we made a bet.  We would see who could log-roll down the hill the furthest (without rolling into the small lake).  The winner would be treated to a fabulous dinner by the loser.

And off we went.  As I was rolling away, I realized that it wasn't just anyone that I could log-roll down a hill with.  That I could laugh so much with, be myself with, tell anything to.  It was crystal clear.  For the first time, I realized that these last few months, when I was with Joe, I thought of nothing but Joe.  I was in love!!

I had no clue how to express this to Joe.  I didn't want to be the first to say it.  What if he didn't love me back?  What if he wasn't ready to say it?  What if I was just imagining the feelings because I had no idea what I was talking about?

So, I resorted to cheesy emails.  "To my sweet little cinnamon heart" (or something similar) is how they all began.  I didn't know what to write?!

Eventually, I wrote a long email explaining how I felt but being careful to not use the three key words.  I told him that I loved hanging out with him.  That it was amazing and fantastic and easy.  The email was spiralling downhill on a scale of cheese and mush.  It was brutal.  Finally, I ended with "I have fallen...and if I have fallen before you, I will be here to catch you and walk beside you...".

He came over for dinner soon after I sent that email.  Things were a bit awkward as I didn't know if he had read the email and was ignoring it or if he simply hadn't had time to read it.  Eager to know how he felt, I said he could "check his email" as I made dinner.  I was practically standing over him (while dinner was likely burning) as he read the email.  He closed it and logged off.  No response.  'Great', I thought, 'he doesn't feel the same way'.  As I tried to quietly sneak back into the kitchen, he grabbed my arm and sat me down on the couch.  He could see that I was a bit disappointed.  "No response?", I asked.  He looked me in the eyes, held me close and said, "Anika, I love you!".

A slight hiccup...

A few months of us dating had passed.  In the chaos of those months, he managed to get incredibly drunk one night while I worked a shift for our university's safe-walk program, and kiss another girl.  Embarrassed and feeling guilty, he went home instead of meeting me after my late shift.  He confessed a few days later and I decided that we couldn't see each other if this is the way things were going to work. It was the first time that I had let someone into my life like this and to be hurt like this was distressing.  I didn't know what to do at the time, so had called a friend and asked her to yell at him for me.  Was this normal? Was this acceptable?  He seemed genuinely distraught at having hurt me.  I didn't know what to do and left for the holidays without reconciling.

I went to Mexico on a family vacation over Christmas.   I mailed him a postcard that simply said "Joe, I am writing to inform you that I am now engaged.  Best wishes, Anika".  It wasn't at all unrealistic.  My parents were keen to find me a husband and it was the most common joke amongst Indian women - you go away for holidays (albeit it's usually India rather than Mexico), and when you come back, the first question most of your Indian friends ask is "Are you engaged?".

So the postcard was sent and after flight delays that saw us spending New Years in a Mexican airport with no food or drinks, I was finally home.  Joe and I briefly chatted on ICQ a few days later, and he asked to see me.  He begged that we meet and that he really wanted to be my boyfriend.  He had apologized.  I really wanted to be his girlfriend, too, I said, but how could I trust him again?  I agreed to meet him once I had gotten back to my apartment.

He came over with bottle of sparkling apple juice, chocolate and flowers.  He got down on one knee, apologized and begged for my forgiveness.  People make mistakes, I thought, and everyone deserves a second chance.  So, we were back to dating and all seemed to move forward fairly well after that...

Breaking new ground...

About a week of officially being a 'girlfriend' had passed.  Joe and I had seen each other for some late night walks a few times and it was late November, which meant it was cold.  Very cold.  Looking back, I'm not entirely sure why we went for late night walks in such crummy weather.  The late nights were a result of us having busy evenings and Joe working the late shift at a restaurant in town.  But walks in insanely cold, wintery weather?  Clearly, we were crazy.

It was one such night when we were walking.  Joe had his hands in his pockets while my mitts kept my hands toasty warm.  It was a quieter walk than normal and I could see that Joe was a bit more hesitant to start conversations - something seemed to be on his mind.  After a few attempts, we both enjoyed the silent walk around the neighbourhood.

Then, I felt something against my mitt.  He had reached over and was holding my hand.  Wow!!  My *boyfriend* was holding MY hand!  !!!!!!!!!!!

If I remember correctly, after a few minutes, I did offer that we rain-check the hand-holding for another time when it wasn't nearly as cold out and he was grateful for the offer and accepted after a few minutes... :)  What a cutie!

*****************************

Only a couple of weeks had gone by since we had started holding hands.  Being a closet-touchy-feely person, it was a fantastic feeling to have your hand held by someone who you care about and who cares about you.

We were both due to a board function on a Thursday evening, and I remember heading over to Joe's to grab a bite to eat beforehand.  When we arrived, he had filled his small room with candles and he had me sit on his desk chair while he sat on the edge of his bed.  'Romantic!', I thought.  I had only ever seen scenes similar to this on television.  As he pulled me closer to the bed (the chair had wheels), it dawned on me what was about to happen.  I looked at him and blurted out 'Oh my goodness!  You're going to kiss me now, aren't you!?  I don't really know how!!!!".  Nothing like ruining a romantic moment when you admit to someone that you've never kissed anyone before and have no clue what you're doing and start to panic...just slightly.  It was as though he ignored what I said, smiled a little, pulled me (and my chair) a little closer, and gave me a nice, soft kiss on my lips.  Bliss!

Does this mean I'm your girlfriend?

A few days after the formal, Joe and I went for dinner.  We hadn't really spoken in the days between the formal and the dinner and it felt as though a year had passed.  I had barely eaten and barely slept.  Butterflies fluttered in my stomach 24/7 since that night and I had no clue what to do.

He took me to dinner where the only thing I could really stomach was a baked potato.  Joe was clearly feeling better than I did as he scarfed down his meal.  Normally, dinner conversations between us flowed like hamburgers out of McDonalds.  This time, however, things were different.  I barely said two words.  Joe asked if everything was okay and I blamed it on the lack of sleep.  How could I tell him that for the last 72 hours, I had done nothing but think and dream about him?!!

Joe walked me back to campus but instead of taking the direct 7-minute walk, we ended up circling a few blocks first.  He did a lot of talking.  To be honest, I haven't a clue what he said.  I caught glimpses of his soliloquy...something about being different religions, knowing that it could be trouble later on, but why not just see what happens... for fun!  Silence.  A long silence.  "Anika?", he asked.  "Everything cool?".  "Uh ya, sorry", I said trying to bring myself back into the conversation.  "So...hmm...does this mean I'm your girlfriend?"

I was officially someone's girlfriend for the first time in my life... I have to admit, I kinda liked it!! :)

Oblivious. To the max.

I remember being the concourse of our main university building.  It was student election time and I was running for the Board of Directors for the Students' Union.  There were only 10 of us running for 12 seats, so we were going through the motions of a campaign and speeches and debates.

One of the other candidates was introduced to me as 'Joe'.  I remember thinking 'what a funny nickname for a short brown guy, but sure, let's go with it'.  I forgot about him (and the rest of the board members) as I left for my summer trip to Japan.

September came and we had our weekly meetings.  Joe and I seemed to regularly miss dinner, so he made it a point for us to meet an hour before the meeting so that we could eat, then attend the meeting.  I thought it was a good idea.  At least I wouldn't miss a meal anymore!  Joe made fun of me more than any other person I've ever met.  I was never quick with the comebacks, so most of the time, I sat there and took the beatings.  It was rather amusing, but I thought nothing more of it.  Clearly, I hadn't learned my lesson.

A couple of months passed and Joe's fraternity was holding a charity slave auction. He was going to be put up for sale.  Sweet revenge was mine!  Would I make him attend my classes for a week? Would I make him clean out my apartment? Would I make him bartender at a girls' night in?  For the right price (and for a great cause), I had the choice of torturing his poor soul anyway I wanted.  Bonus, he came concert tickets.  So what did I do?  Nothing. I took him to the concert because I didn't know anyone else who wanted to go.  It was some loud band (noise) and he loved it.  He was at the front, near the stage while I was at the back plugging my ears.  Clearly, I did not know the meaning of 'slave'.  I drove him home and as we pulled into his driveway, he asked me if I would accompany him to the upcoming formal his fraternity was hosting.  I had no idea what a formal was.  Sure! Why not?!  (I later found out that it meant I had to buy a dress and shoes...the tomboy in me was not impressed).

Surprisingly, I was actually excited about finding a fantastic princess dress with matching silver shoes.  This was not the reaction I was expecting of myself!  I picked up a make-your-own-chocolate bar pack, some crispy M&M's (which I had discovered were his favourite) and picked him up.

He cleaned up well, I was impressed.  He got into the car and gave me a corsage.

"Oh sugar, I was supposed to get you a flower thing, too, wasn't I..." I immediately said, "will chocolate do?".

We played tic-tac-toe on the bus window the entire way to the hall.  We were competitive. I won (although his version of the story will probably be different).  We arrived and sat for dinner.  I didn't realize that we were going to have dinner and had neglected to tell Joe that I was a vegetarian.  Of course, he had noticed from all the dinners we'd had before, and had already ensured that I would receive a vegetarian meal.  I met a host of gentlemen who would later become like a family of brothers to me throughout the rest of my undergraduate days.  They were fantastic.  Joe was fantastic.  A perfect gentleman.

As the slow dances approached at the end of the night, I had a sinking feeling.  I had never slow danced before.  Sure, gym class in junior high, but I had never actually, really slow danced.  Do I put my hands on his shoulders? Do I put one hand on his shoulder and the other by his waist? Do I wrap my arms around him? How close do I stand? Do I rest my head on his shoulder? Do I look him in the eye?  Panic.

I look around at some of the other girls who are there and follow their lead.  I must have been standing a bit too close, as I felt something poking me...you know...like right....*there* (ahh!)... Something that I immediately tried not to think of.  Eek! What do I do? Eww! I can't just run away from this!  Giggling won't work here! Um....er....AHHH!!!!

I tried to start a conversation.  No luck.  Finally, I just asked "so, what are you thinking about?".  Typical girl. I know.  Joe's response "well, I'm dancing with this amazingly beautiful girl...what do you think I'm thinking about?".  Ewwwww!!!!!!!!!  Thankfully, the song ended and I excused myself.  Phew.

With drunken frat boys on a bus, it was far from a quiet ride home.  I was exhausted.  And, cold.   Joe gave me his jacket and I rested my head on his shoulder.  I drove him home and as he was about to leave, he leaned in, gave me a fantastic hug and thanked me for a fabulous evening.  I asked if he wanted to grab tea, but he had to work early the next morning.  He gave me another hug before I drove home.

I couldn't sleep.  My stomach was filled with butterflies... I had no clue what this new feeling was.

:)

My first...'date'

This was not a parental setup.  In fact, it stemmed from the conference that I had attended in my last year of high school.  I knew that I had to date 'brown' people (and there were only two others at the conference), and we had kept in touch.  I had spoken to his parents on the phone when I called his house, so I knew that my family would approve if I decided to date him.

It was Canada Day, and I was in Ottawa.  He lived in Montreal and was happy to meet up with me when he found out I was only an hour away.  We hung out and the more we hung out in person, the more I realized that actually, I had no romantic feelings towards him.  We were just good friends.  Giving credit where it's due, he was a total gentleman the entire afternoon.

He walked me back to where I was staying and leaned in for a kiss.  I turned away and said "I'm really sorry, but I can't", and kind of giggled.  Nobody had ever tried to kiss me before.  I didn't know how to react!

We barely spoke after that.

In a random twist of fate, a few years after that, through family friends, I was setup with his older brother!  Small world.  

My first crush...maybe...

It wasn't really a crush that I had.  Rather, someone who had a crush on me and I was too oblivious to even notice.

I went to a conference in my last year of high school, where I met some of my closest friends.  One such friend, is Redhead.

I had a knack for saying what was on my mind - the filter between my brain and my mouth was (and still is) rarely used.  I was going through the registration line, and was met by a team of university students who were volunteering their time that week (something I would do in the years to come).  Some hardcore rock music was playing in the background and without even thinking, I said "Who's awful music is this? It's not even music, it's just noise!"  Redhead piped up and said "Oy, it's my music and you're just evil".

From then, Redhead called me "Evil Girl".  The name stuck (throughout the conference and surprisingly for a few years to follow).  In the middle of the week, we had a Francophone dinner, where everyone was encouraged to speak in French.  Being fluent in language, I had no issues, and eventually found my place in the dining hall.  At my seat was a little name placard, with the words "La P'tite Mechante" handwritten under my name.

Redhead picked on me throughout the conference (and I was oblivious to the fact that it was because he may have liked me).  I had kept the little placard from the Francophone dinner and at the end of the conference when we all signed each other's notebooks and wrote little letters for one another, Redhead wrote on my placard.  It was sweet.

For the month that followed, while Redhead was back at home on the East Coast, and I on the West, we exchanged pages and pages of emails about school and life.  Redhead was an amazing friend to me.  And, maybe it was just that, him being an amazing friend...  or maybe it was a crush?  I wasn't allowed to have crushes on red-headed, freckled-faced guys...so it couldn't possible be....it was all so confusing...

Indian 'dating'...

This blog will hopefully be a place where fun 'Indian dating' (i.e. parental setup) stories can be shared.  My parents, bless them, have been setting me up with some great, and some not-so-great people for the last eight years.  I know I would have found some level of comfort knowing that other girls were going through the ritualistic setups that I was being put through, so this blog is for all of those Indian girls going through the same thing...whether to find comfort, humour, or both! :)

Women, especially, often find it difficult to balance family and cultural norms/expectations with those of the wider (and often more modern) society that we are being raised in.  I remember that going to the mall alone with my friends for the first time, in grade 10, was a very big deal for me.  Sleepovers were at my house and I wasn't allowed to go over to other children's houses.  I wasn't allowed to date.  And, when I was going to start dating, I was only to date Hindu men who are taller than me.  No sex, drugs and rock & roll, as they say.

There is nothing wrong with the norms and expectation of our families and cultures.  However, when you are born in raised in a culture and community that is different, it is often difficult to find a balance that allows us to fit into both worlds.  You want to fit in with your friends who are talking about boys and kissing and dating.  You want to make your parents proud by being an upstanding daughter at home.

I was lucky that my parents were fairly liberal.  Although they were known as the strictest parents in the community, I didn't mind so much.  They let me travel, sent me to camps and conferences and allowed me to get really involved in extra-curricular activities.  The encouraged me to be independent, put me through music and speech lessons, drove countless hours getting me (and my siblings) from one activity to the next.  I have a lot to be thankful for.

However, curiosity of dating and relationships (and other faux-pas things - drinking, for example), is something that most young Indian women aren't able to speak to their parents about.  So, we can ask for their understanding about dating non-Indians and go through that battle, but they don't understand, leaving us between a rock and a hard place.  To date and not tell or not to date at all?  I, for better or for worse, chose to date and not tell.  Especially because the first person who I fell in love with, was Muslim.  The anti-Hindu (or Hindus being the anti-Muslims).  Either way, it was a bad combination.  As you read the blog, you'll see where the story goes.

The 10-year love story, filled with ups and downs, is interwoven with some highly comical set-ups by parents that arose from exchanges of bio-datas.

Oh, in case you're not familiar with Indian 'dating', you should know what a bio-data is...

Bio-data: A piece of paper that contains the most important information about the person you are being set up with.  This includes: name, place of birth, time of birth, day of birth, current profession, father's profession, mother's profession, siblings (and their professions), height, weight, and if you're lucky, a picture.

happy reading!