The Marrying Type | Nirushan Sivagnanasuntharam

My mom always hoped that Lara and I would break up. Her distaste for the idea as Lara as a daughter in law had to do with the fact that Lara was from a Chinese family (my mother naturally preferred that I be with a girl from a Tamil speaking family like ours). As far as she was concerned Lara did not exist; every time I brought up Lara’s name she would look away or change the subject. Lately I’ve been trying to avoid my mom, as she keeps asking me if she can introduce me to a nice Tamil girl, even though I keep asking her to drop the matter.
    Truth be told, my relationship with Lara appears to be nearing its end; she’s hoping to go to study in Scotland and thinks that it is best that we break up before she goes. However, I believe her desire to leave the relationship has more to with my mom’s reluctance to acknowledge her as my girlfriend and prospective wife, than does her wanting to go and study in Scotland. I’ve tried several times to point out that if my mom saw that we were serious about each other enough to marry she would come around. Lara, in response, has told me that she doesn’t think that’s the problem, adding that she’s not interested in marriage right now and likely won’t be for another two years at least.
    “Two years?” I said when she first told me.
    “Well I may not come back right away when I finish school,” she said. “I may stay and work or travel in Scotland or around Europe. Even if I come back I definitely won’t want to marry right away.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “I’m sure.”

On the train home from work one day in late Winter I saw Dinesh, the son of a family friend, one of those sons who my mom viewed as being more successful than me because of his decision to marry a girl from a Tamil speaking family. Although we hadn’t seen each other in years, we instantly recognized each other.
    “Congratulations on getting married,” I said.
    “I’m not married yet,” he said. “The wedding is still three months away. You are coming right?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Oh good. How about you, any marriage prospects?”
    “Not right now, unfortunately.”
    “Oh trust me you don’t want it. You don’t want the headache.”
    I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. Before I could respond he told me that he had to get off at the next stop and that he would call me soon to make plans to hang out.

We met at a pub downtown called the Eager Beaver about a month after our random meeting. The delay was largely due to Dinesh who wanted to pick a weekend where he wouldn’t have to wake up early the next morning and when his future wife had other plans.
    “I think it’s good for us to be apart and do things with other people,” he said. “Right now, even though we’re not married we see each other all the time. Too much if you ask me.”
    “You don’t live together do you?”
    “Oh no, god no. I think it would make sense, but you know our culture. She’s quite traditional when it comes to things like that. She has never even stayed over at my place for even one night.”
    As the night progressed Dinesh went on to tell me how much he envied me. He’d seen pictures of me out partying on my profile online. I told him that my life isn’t glamorous as all that and that I envied him as I’ve wanted to marry my girlfriend Lara for quite some time.
    “So what’s stopping you?”
    “Well she wants to go away to Scotland to do a master’s degree and then maybe do some traveling after that. The selfish part of me wishes she doesn’t go so I can see her, but I also want her to be happy. I see how much she wants it.”
    “Oh you don’t need her man,” said Dinesh. “ Just let her go. There are plenty of fish in the sea! You still are young and have your whole life ahead of you. Why do you want to be tied down?”
    “Well I happen to be in love with her.”
    “No just let her go.”
    “I hope that’s not hope you feel about Rukmani,” I said. “Your wedding is coming up soon.”
    “I know. But to be honest with you, I wish – I wish I wasn’t marring her. I wish I was single.”
    “Then why are you?”
    “Because I have to. Trust me, let the girl go. You’ll be happier for it.”
I didn’t plan on it being a late night, but from the beginning it was clear that Dinesh had other plans. He kept emphasizing how rare it was for his fiancée to be away on a weekend and that it would be a shame if he didn’t take advantage of the opportunity. Once our plates had been cleared away I found myself agreeing to accompany him to a nearby strip club. If he hadn’t had been so eager to go it is likely I would have declined.
    On the way to the strip club he asked me if he could trust me to keep this just between us.
    “Well I might mention it to some of my friends.”
    “Okay your friends, but not like anyone in your family.”
    “Your wife won’t find out.”
    “She’s not my wife yet.”
    Only half of the tables at the club were occupied. We’d been sitting less than a minute before a waitress in a black skirt and v neck blouse approached us to ask what we would like to drink. By the time she’d brought our beers a few minutes later we each had a scantily clad stripper in high heels rubbing against us.
    About a half hour later I watched Dinesh grinning blissfully as a stripper in a maroon bikini and black high heels led him away from our table. Over the next forty five minutes or so as I waited for Dinesh’s return my attention alternated between the stage and my phone. In that time I was approached by four other strippers, but as attractive as they were I turned them all away without a second thought.
    On the way home Dinesh confessed to me that it was the first time he had ever been in a strip club. He’d always wanted to go but had no one to go with and didn’t want to go alone. He thanked me several times on the way back and then through text messages for the next few days for taking him. He also made it clear that he wished to go again soon. I didn’t make any promises – in fact I even suggested that he go by himself next time he got the urge.
    “It’s not the same when you go alone,” he said. “I’d feel like a loser. It’s also nice to share the experience with at least one of your buddies.”
    About a month later I did relent and accompany him to the strip club again, but only after he promised to pay for my cover to get into the place and two beers while there. This time we ended up staying even longer than the first time. On the way out Dinesh admitted to me that he had spent much more money than he had planned to and I made it clear that I was never going to back to the strip club, not just with him, but with anybody. Over the next couple of days he sent a few text messages to me, thanking me for going to the strip club with him. Then almost a week later there came quite a different text from him, but one that did not entirely surprise me. Rukmani had noticed that there was some considerable money missing in his bank account and he didn’t know what to tell her. Before I could get around to responding to this text he called me on my cell phone.
    “Hi Surrendon, I’m so sorry for bothering you,” he said. “ You did get my text right?”
    “Yeah.”
    “So what do you think? What do I tell her?”
    “Tell her we went to the casino.”
    “Oh yeah I didn’t think of that. She doesn’t know me as a gambler, but I think that sounds believable. I just had a tough night, happens to everyone. Hey, while I have you on the phone, have you or anyone you know tried online dating?”
    “I know a few people who’ve tried it and succeeded at it.”
    “So you think it’s worth trying?”
    “Yeah I do. And why are you asking by the way? You have a wedding coming up remember?”
    “I know – I was just asking for a friend.”
    “I see. I’ve got to go but you behave yourself okay?”
    “I’ll try.”

I met with Lara for coffee. She came wearing the long undulating earrings that I liked and tight fitting black pants that accentuated her best physical asset, her butt. I tried hard not to look as I could sense that bad news was coming and looking would just make the bad news more painful to bear. Thankfully she didn’t wait long to deliver the news: within ten minutes of ordering our lattes she told me that she had accepted her admission to the university in Scotland that morning and therefore she would be breaking up with me.
    “It’s not that I don’t love you, Surr,” she said. “ You know how much I do. The thing is as I explained to you before, I just don’t know if and when I’ll come back. And I want to be free when I’m there – I’m still young. I want to be able to go do things and not be held back.”
    If only we could show my family somehow how serious we were about each other, but she being away, across the ocean in another country, another time zone, would only have had the opposite effect. I had to move on, I could see that now, but I would need time, lots of time, to get over the pain of this. For the rest of our meeting I spoke little and tried to listen as attentively as I could to Lara as she spoke enthusiastically of Scotland and the university she would be attending. It was the longest hour of my life.

“I hear you and Dinesh have been spending time together,” my mother said when I was over at her place one Sunday.
    “We went out a couple of times yes.”
    “How many times did you see him?”
    “Just twice. But we do talk sometimes through text and email also. Who told you about this?”
    “His mother. She’s concerned.”
    “Oh why? She thinks I’m a bad influence or something? Why?”
    “Well you’re living this bachelor life style – so people are taking you for one of those young men who are not the marrying type. And men who don’t want to marry and just have fun their whole life are looked down upon.”
    “Not the marrying type? So do they think I go out partying every night and sleep all day? I maybe go to two parties in a year. I have a good job. I read a lot. I go to the movies only a few times a year. I do my own laundry. I cook for myself. I hardly drink. I don’t smoke. Don’t do drugs. Have no criminal record, not even a parking ticket.”

A little bit over a week before his wedding Dinesh sent me a text asking me to call him at my earliest convenience. It was to do with his wedding. I called him during my lunch break.
    “I’m thinking of cancelling the wedding,” he said.    
    “Are you serious?”
    “I can’t do it. I’d be miserable. I want my freedom.”
    “Oh my god. You’re going to be out a lot of money. The banquet hall won’t give any of your money back at this point I’m sure. Not even the caterers or the limo guys or anyone.”
    “I know. But I have to. It would be far worse to go ahead with the wedding and then have to divorce or separate later.”    

The next day my mother phoned me while I was at work. I didn’t answer, allowing the call to go to voicemail. The message was marked urgent.
     “Surrendon, I have some bad news. Dinesh and Rukmani’s wedding it’s – it’s cancelled. Also, we’re being blamed for it. Can you imagine that? They think you are responsible for filling Dinesh’s head with crazy ideas. Call me back please as soon as you can.”
Later that evening my mother called again and again I allowed her call to go to voice mail. This time as last time the message was marked urgent.
    “Surrendon! Why don’t you pick up the phone! Mrs. Rajanatam – er – Shanthi, she’s been calling me, threatening me – threatening us. She says we are to blame for her son cancelling the wedding. And she’s demanding money from us to cover wedding costs. Please call me back! I’m your mother! I need to know, what did you tell that boy? What did you tell him?”
    The meaning of my mother’s voicemail was lost on me. I was still in no position to pay proper attention to her pleading words; all I could think about was losing Lara. I thought she was the one. She was supposed to be the one.

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