My recent trip to Los Angeles found me with exactly enough time to meet Lily, a twenty-nine-year-old girl who is originally from Indiana. Although her trendy street fashion says LA, her personality remains that of a Midwest girl. As we walked down Canon Drive to view all the high end clothing boutiques and hair salons, Lily asked me all kinds of questions about what I’m currently doing and if I’m still having to meet guys introduced to me by my family. Although I was rather embarrassed to tell her that my family had sort of lost hope in my getting married, I was happy to report that they were so distracted with my sister’s wedding to insist on my meeting anyone as they normally do.
“I’m so tired of the dating scene,” said Lily, obviously frustrated. Lily went on to tell me how she had been on over twenty dates in the past year, had two relationships that didn’t last more than two months, and the longest lasting relationship she’s had in her twenty-nine years was the one between her and Dash, her eight-year-old Rottweiler.
“You complain about arranged marriages and all, but seriously girl, I would LOVE if my family did that for me,” she said. I couldn’t help but stop mid-walk and just look at her perplexed.
“You want an arranged marriage?”
“If it means getting married to a guy my family trusts, have kids, start my fucking life, yeah girl… I want an arranged marriage.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Here I was writing about the things I hated about having my family try to arrange my marriage after way too many bad meetings set by them—nevermind my father arranging my first attempted arranged marriage to my cousin that was unsuccessful. Read more