Last evening as my dad and I were walking home from the mall (where he bought me walking shoes and Snuff by Palhanuik) we got to talking about life in America and marriage. At some point I made a joke about how if I wanted to live in America I should probably marry Chef and suddenly we’re talking about marriage and he’s telling me that if I really want to live in America, perhaps I should look for potential grooms in America. Now, I’m not like all dead set against arranged marriage. I don’t think it’s uncool or horrible or too trad or whatever. I mean, when I was in America all those Americans would be round eyed and ready to be sympathetic when they’d ask me, “SO… do your parents like want you to have an arranged marriage?” Unfortunately for them, my parents don’t live up their ideal of the patriarchal Indian male dominated household where girls are objects for marriage. They were, however, given their dose of shock when I’d tell ‘em I do not think arranged marriages are made in hell. That’s a very popular notion. It’s easy for people (esp Urban Indians) to talk of arranged marriages in one tone: of forced marriages. I am against forced marriages but I know a lot of my friends who got married to the boy/girl their parents chose. They dated them for a while, figured out if they were compatible and then went ahead. Gone are the days, at least amidst urban educated folk, that boys and girls see their respective better halves only on the day of their marriage.

Anyway, I digress. My dad wanted me to look at boys and see if I liked and was compatible with any. I was like, no fucking way dude. I cannot for the life of me see myself married to some Tam Bram. Then my dad went off about how if I want to get married, I ought to get into a stable relationship like STAT so that I have enough time to consider compatibility and other issues. He said how it doesn’t matter if the dude’s Indian or not, or what religion he is or what he does for a living etc as long as I’m happy and he will be able to take care of me. Blah, right? The usual liberal parent crap. So I said, “Okay dad… but what about age?” And the smart man that he is, he caught on: “Do you want to marry (Chef)?” I was really nervous, let me tell you, my mouth was DRY but I said yeah and asked if that was okay.

TO my utter surprise, he’s absolutely cool with it and even said he’d talk to my mom! Ha ha. SHe already knows but yeah, she does need some convincing. This is a great relief to me. I was pretty certain my father was going to go a little ballistic and be really strained about it.

THe only problem from now on is that the closer we get to actually getting married, the colder my feet are going to get. I realise now that I am extremely committment phobic. I’m terrified of living in the same place for too long, with the same person, in the same house, same country, same job…. I told Chef that and I told him not to freak out if I freak out. I just need to be reminded that it don’t get better than him. At least I’m not thinking about that ‘one last fling before I get hitched’ because let’s face it- no one’s ever been able to satisfy me like him, so what’s the point in even looking? Besides, who could give up all that delicious food.

Chef’s daughter Bella told him she thinks I’m never coming back. Her exact words were, “Dad, how many times did you change your mind when you were twenty five.”

In all honesty, I can see where she’s coming from. I know that it’s been his insecurity all this time as well. I can’t imagine what he must be going through. ALl said and done, in the end I AM a 25 year old girl and he is 54. As far as numbers go, it doesn’t look good. When we go out, he’s the envy of his older buddies but deep down inside, they think he’s setting himself up for failure. But he’s a smart man. Not to second guess him or anything, but I sometimes wonder if he’s holding himself back or simply isn’t as into me as it seems so he can protect himself? Am I being paranoid? Coz the thing is, if I were in his place I’d treat me strictly as a good time. I’d avoid getting too tangled up and I’d avoid taking any talk of marriage and babies too seriously.

It’s been a freaking hard one week. I’m mostly okay during the day. But sometimes in the evening, I’ll think about rolling a joint and shooting the breeze with someone and I realise there’s no one in the world I want to smoke a J with except him and there’s no one who will listen to my BS with as much humour as he does. I miss that. At night of course it’s a whole different story. Let’s just say my fingers aren’t nearly as effective and the pretence isn’t half as exciting as his physical presence.

I realise that Bella doesn’t want her father’s heart broken and I respect that. I only hope he isn’t going to be taken in by her talk and feel the need to distance himself from me. If he did think I was untrustworthy, he wouldn’t talk about sending me money, right? To my savings account. For to go to Italy next year. And he wouldn’t be applying for a fiance visa for me, right?

I’m so good at living in the moment that the past and future seem distant entities. I have three more days here with the Chef and then I leave for home. I will be indefinitely absent from his touch, his long winded tales and his cooking. I made the mistake of not accepting this situation last year when I was leaving Canadia. I took it rather badly at the time. I’m hoping this time is different because Chef and I are not calling it quits.

In the rare moments that the leaving does freeze me, I wonder if I can make this relationship work. I have a terrible track record with long distance relationships. I cheated on my first boyfriend at age 18- he lived in my hometown and I lived in Bombay. Getting over Canadian Boy (CB) was most excruciatingly painful but I was released from the cravings fairly quickly. But the thing that concerns me most about Chef, is that sometimes… sometimes I will look at him and think, “What in the fuck am I doing?” How, for instance, do I explain to my parents I want to be with a man older than my father?

I always thought I would end up with someone that I could grow old with. Unfortch, my current partner’s gone and gotten old already. Ha ha. The worrying part is what will become of our relationship when he’s so old, I have to be his eyes, ears and feet? More importantly, what of sex? If I stray (read: cheat) on him while he’s in his geriatric wheelchair, I’ll be hardest core bitch in the world. If I survive all of that, the scariest part will be that, as life plays itself out, I am doomed to lose my parents and lover possibly within five years of one another.

So is this what I really want? The trouble is Chef is a wonderful man. I love how he loves me. In and out of bed. He brings me chocolate when I’m on my period, cooks me my fave meals, does the laundry and the dishes, listens to my ire over politics, buys me pretty things…

Also, he’s Italian. Everything you may or may not have heard about Italian men’s sexual prowess is true. Honest to Orgasm. I think this trumps everything else about him. Ha ha. My mother used to say you should never marry for sex, only for companionship. I think she got it backwards.

Three more days. I told him we’re going to have to meet up in six months and do a little review. Sooner or later we’re going to have to decide how to make this work. That probably involves me leaving India for good and I’m not really really excited about that.