February 8th, 2007
|12:16 am - It's a Lot Like Drowning That Way|
So this was my mom's response to my biodata:
SUNIL WHEN I ASED U TO MAKA BIODATA NOT A COMEDY SKIT. DO ANOTHER ONE WITHOUT AL THE COMMETS AND PUT A NICE PICTURE AS WELL. JUST PUT YOUR SCHOOL INFO YOUR PERSONAL THING LIKE HT. WT. AND ALSO YOUR LIKES LIKE LIKES TO READ WATCHE MOVIE. ETC. SEND BIO LIKE THIS SOOON. MOMMYMy mom is not so good with the typing. Or the not pissing me off royally and making me cry.
Saturday night, I was so angry I was shaking. When I woke up Sunday, I had a few precious seconds of just appreciating that I was awake and alive, just taking in the prospect of a new day, and then I remembered.
It took me until Tuesday evening to work up the nerve to call. I had had it; they were going to do it my way, or I just wasn't getting married. I was going to hold my ground.
I lasted about a minute.
No, I repeated. I was not going to take out the "junk." This would find me a girl who would make me happy, and I was the one getting married. I made it through nearly all my prepared statements, but they were no use.
At this initial stage, all she wanted was the simple information like height and weight and education. People would look at this and think I was a joke, and you know what they say about first impressions. She had asked for a simple biodata; why couldn't I just follow instructions? That is all people wanted to see.
Making things worse was the fact that one of my cousins in India had gone and tarnished the family name once again by kicking his wife and kid out of the house, so this reflects badly on me.
She had no problem letting me send this after they made contact with the girl. I could save all those testimonials and send them later. But for now, she wanted me to take all the jokes and comments out. And, no, no one was looking for anything different; that's not how our society works.
I was probably crying by this point. It was really no use, arguing, ever. It never helped. It never worked. Of course she would get her way. I am a dutiful fucking son with no backbone.
I took out the wonderful testimonials that made me out to be a far better person than I really am. I took out the non-standard fields. I left in the lists of my favorite media because "I like to read and watch movies" is about the most useless fucking statement there is. I changed the picture to this:
( My personality is in my pants. (That's what she said.)Collapse )
(ETA: This just in: she doesn't like this picture either. Because the green pants don't match the "brown" shirt.) She's lucky I didn't use this:
( My personality is in my...whatever that stuff is. (Or he said.)Collapse )
I know this is probably for the best, as it is more than likely my perfect mate has similarly traditional parents who would find my biodata strange and off-putting, and this keeps my parents happy until I start vetoing all their choices. But it sure feels like giving in. Giving up.
Life can be sort of peaceful when you stop struggling.
Current Mood: melancholy
Current Music: Pedro the Lion - Bad Things to Such Good People