To the people who visited us this evening:

Sod off! Your expensive car and your expensive clothes, your degrees and your social status, ALL mean nothing since they have obviously not improved your sickening attitudes towards a woman who could have, in a parallel universe, been a potential bride for your son.

You come to visit us, in our house, when you have already been told that I am not interested. Yet you come, and you make it appear like you want to genuinely get to know my family for whatever social purposes and you make it seem you understand that I am not going to be sized up like a sack of potatoes. You come and we receive you, then you dare ask why I am not present. You, old hag with a PhD, mother of a 30-something ‘independent‘ engineer looking for a wife, YOU bluntly say you want to see me so you can describe me to your son. How lowly of you! Do you think all women are as cheap and available as you once were?

Did they not teach you that women are not objects? That even if you find a 100 who are willing to serve you coffee when you honor them with your visit, and let you look at them up and down, and let you go back home and call your little momma’s boy and tell him “she has short hair, she’s petite and she has a nosering and a ton of earrings, we’re not buying”, that even if you find a 100 women letting you do that, you do NOT find that marriage worship in my house?

I know why you came. You thought you could embarrass me or my family with social crap. You thought if you came and asked for me, I would somehow be polite enough to go out and meet you because it would be socially inappropriate otherwise. In the meantime, do you know what I was doing in my room? I was studying in my pajamas and eating ice cream. You see, I do not care about you or about your little king, just as much as you do not care about my intelligence and feelings. Quid pro quo, mofos. This one is not so polite.

You wanted to see me and you didn’t. It’s offensive that you imagined I would be willing to be treated like that, but then again, you don’t even know me. Did you honestly think my family will force me to shyly parade in front of you? Or that they will shy away from telling you that I will NOT bother to see you because your king is not with you, and that even if he was, I will not see you anyway? Why did you lie then, and say that you wanted to get to know us only?

You, old hag –daughter of some minister, you must have done rounds like this before. I am sure you have a candidates’ list of all the houses and the girls you have seen for your ‘boy,’ and I am sure you looked at everything in these girls. I am sure you know exactly which one of them has a longish nose, which has big ears, which has a lisp, which has an attitude, which has boobs too small for your son’s taste; I am sure you know all that.

You expected me to join your list and be proud of it. You thought I would be happy because your son will consider me as an option, if I was lucky. You imagined that I will let you degrade me such that when the king finally decides to come do the rounds with you, to check out the candidates you shortlisted for him and size them up again, I will be on cloud number nine because, oh my god, a man I don’t know shit about is considering me for his wife.

By refusing to be another BODY on your list, I retained my value which balanced people appreciate. I am not yours to buy, and I will not be part of your king’s imaginary harem when you describe these other women to him. You do not know me, and you never will. I am above your petty list, your examining stares, your twisted sense of social conduct, your disgusting expectations. Moreover, I am kingdoms above your little king.

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This entry was posted on Saturday, March 15th, 2008 at 7:10 pm and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.