Untying The Knot

Being stuck in a small and confined space such as in the family vehicle is a definite health hazard. Consider all the possible risks you face when sitting in the 'oh-so-luxurious' cabin of a saloon:

1) You may crash

2) You may get deep vein thrombosis (especially on long haul journeys)

3) You may die of carbon monoxide poisoning

But that is nothing compared to the one, scariest possibility of all which is, you may end up having a big discussion with your parents about a particular topic - marriage.

Note: I suppose you could call this post something of a 'continuation' to Sarah's latest entry here, where she tells about her experience sharing secrets - secrets that she would never have thought of spilling before - with her mother; and coming out of the experience feeling more mature.

Congratulations Sarah! It's good to know that at least some of us are growing up.

Of course, this wasn't the first time that I have talked about the matter. Indeed, I am no stranger when it comes to talking about marriage. But then again, past discussions with my parents have only touched on general features of the family institution such as why a mum's blood pressure automatically increases after her children grow up into their teenage years, or why parents are allowed to force their children to eat vegetables, and how parents have the power to override any logical and sane argument given by their offspring simply by saying 'Because I say so'.

However, this time around the discussion was more sober and serious. And that gave me goosebumps.

I cannot remember most of what was is that my parents were talking about; partly because of my current efforts in trying to eradicate the ghastly scene from any recollective memory, and partly due to my inattentiveness to what they had to say on the subject. But from what little I can gather, the gist of it was that they intended to , in the future, introduce me to several 'nice girls'.

'Nice girls'? What's that supposed to mean? Now, I am pretty sure of myself when I say that I meet nice girls all the time - and some nasty ones too, on really unlucky occasions. Given that situation, why would I need my parents to introduce me to some more nice girls? That is like having another slice of pie when you still have half a slice on your plate. That is being greedy.

Still, my parents were adamant about the idea. In fact, they wanted me to go and meet 'the family'. When I almost doubled over from choking on my own saliva, my mum asked me what was wrong with the idea. And then before I could retort with a useless answer, she further asked me was it because I already had someone else (without her knowing) that I didn't want to go and meet other 'nice girls'.

Well to be really honest, I am not all that adverse to the idea of meeting charming young ladies, or even their parents for that matter. I mean, if I find myself facing a question which I cannot answer (Jamil nak settle down mana lepas kahwin?), I can always feign rabies, or perhaps sudden death. But the thing which bothers me the most is, how would they look at me after that? How would they perceive my parents then? I am enough a source of embarrassment to myself, what more my parents. And the last thing that I need is for people to be throwing queer looks at them while I froth myself silly on the floor.

And then my mum said the unthinkable.

"Don't worry. We'll do all the talking"

Postscript: My parents will most surely be ticked off after reading this. So before I receive a harsh lecture and a good wallop to the rear, I'd like to take the opportunity to wish Happy Belated Birthday to Pycnogenol. The present'll have to wait until after that wallop arrives, I'm afraid.