Even after my own parents throw up their hands in despair at my marital status (or the lack of it) and stop bugging me, there are others who will persist, good intentions intact. The results are sometimes howl-a-rious. See here:
Surrogate mummy: What happened to that boy in Bangalore?
Me: Who, Dee? He’s still in Bangalore.
Surrogate mummy: You should marry him!
Surrogate mummy: I think you like him!
Me: I do! That’s why we are friends.
Surrogate mummy: So tell him that you like him!
Me: Why? He already knows.
Surrogate mummy: No, you tell him “I like you”. Then he’ll say “I love you” back. And then you can get married!
Oh dear, who will tell her that saying “I like you” to a man is likely to have the exact opposite effect and send him running miles away from you. And what’s more….that he probably thinks that the very mention of the word ‘marriage’ is adequate basis for certification to an institution (the asylum type, not the marriage type!)
Then there’s always my dear friend-turned-mother-hen (Mother Goose, silly goose?) whose number one goal in life these days is to land a husband. Which objective she pursues with single-minded dedication. Except she does it by trying to convince me (?) to get married. First thing in the morning she buzzes…
Mother Hen: So, why don’t you call X?
Me: Now? Why?
Mother Hen: Why not? Yeh kal kal karte karte train nikal jaayegi!
Me: No, I managed to get it on time. That’s how I got here.
Mother Hen: No stupid woman. You better hook the guy or you’ll lose him.
Me: Darling, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but we broke up ages ago.
Mother Hen: So? You know how men are!
Me: I do?
Mother Hen: Yeah, full of themselves, never willing to admit they were wrong. So you go back and call him!
Me: And say what?
Mother Hen: That you want to meet.
Me: But I don’t want to meet!
Mother Hen: Settle down, woman. It’s high time. You’ll be much happier.
Me: I am happy right now. We should go man-hunting for you.
Mother Hen: I think I’m not the settling down type.
Me: Then why do you want to get married?
Mother Hen: So I have someone I can come home to.
Me: What’s wrong with your TV?
Mother Hen: That’s not enough.
Me: Oh for…! Why don’t you call Y then?
Mother Hen: No way! I don’t want to go back to him.
Me: My point, precisely.
Mother Hen: Arre, but that’s different. I think X is perfect.
Me: Then you get married to him!
Mother Hen: Me? No way, can’t stand him!
Presumably this is the ‘It’s a crummy job but someone’s gotta do it so go hook him!’ school of thought. I steal quietly away to my boring-but-blissfully single existence away from mummies and their bandages for my supposedly ailing heart.