Before I fly home for Thanksgiving, my mother tells me, “Bring a nice outfit. We’re invited to a party on Thursday night.” I ask her who’s hosting. From her answer, I establish my mother’s intent: for me to meet brown* girl(s) whom she imagines are potential wife material for me. After all, I pay attention to her stories, such as the time she returned from a dinner party at that house months ago. “Bhabi has a daughter around your age. She’s a [law/medical] student at [insert name of elite East Coast university]! I saw her. She’s very pretty!” [1]
On Thanksgiving night, we get to the party and most of the guests are already there. My family is shown to the kitchen where finger food appetizers await.
Click to enlarge.
I don’t know anyone there and I can’t see anyone my age I could talk to, so I decide to start the party hanging out with my sister in the kitchen, since (1) we’ll be able to gossip on our own a bit and (2) my sister wears amazing shoes so eventually the women WILL come by to compliment them and converse with her. And then my socially adroit sister could borrow a line from Barney to play a little game of “Haaaaave youmetmybrother?”
Within two minutes, this plan is derailed.
The host auntie [2] pries me away from our nascent gossip session to show me to the guys’ room, where her sons and those of the other aunties are watching the Cowboys game. I don’t get super excited for regular season NFL games, but I figure I’ll get to chat with people and it’ll feel like a party.
Nope, mistaken again. Everyone’s super absorbed with the game: one guy because his fantasy team’s players are involved; and, the rest because that’s what guys with peach-fuzz mustaches in high school do. I would know, I was there once. And after dinner is served, we get to watch the next NFL game. Yup, the young ladies will SWARM IN to watch football like bees drawn to nectar!!! Now, readers, don’t feel bad for me. This story you’re reading now? I drafted it in my head as the Cowboys kicked their game-winning field goal.
But! My mother is bound to be disappointed. She and I don’t always agree on what the path to happiness is, but she is certainly concerned with my happiness in life, and I am so blessed to have her care this much. So what went wrong in her plan? Read more…
