IF you are a single woman living in the vibrant, diverse community such as ours, then you would have been matchmade at least once.
This matchmaking practice, popular among mainstream cultures in this country, is a not-so-subtle underground industry run by the aunties who believe that you should marry before you reach a certain age, or you will be destined for a lifetime of misery and loneliness.
Not one single woman can escape this. These aunties could be everyone and anyone — from the elder colleague sitting at the corner of the office, a neighbour who’s sure she knows the “perfect” guy for you (through analysis of similarities in pay cheque and status), to your relatives who are determined to not let your mother die without grandchildren.
Or in my case, it was a mutual friend of my parents who knew a woman who had a son who was single, available and apparently, ready for marriage.
I cringed at the idea. I am never one who appreciates the concept of putting two strangers together at a table with hopes that sparks would fly.
Nor was I interested to meet anyone new at the time. But it seemed that my mother, bless her, had been cornered into complying with this proposal for a meet-up between this unknown man and I.
Her mutual friend was insistent, and I eventually found myself on a Saturday evening standing anxiously at the lobby of a mall, guided with a picture of the guy for a dinner date I did not want to go to.
ONE BAD DATE
It was easily one of the worst dates I have ever had to endure. For starters, he did not look like the picture which was clearly taken when he was five years younger and 9kg lighter.
Feeling slightly fooled, I sat across him in a restaurant as we attempted to carry on a somewhat decent conversation.
It turned out that we had minimal common interests and absolutely zero chemistry.
He did not seem to enjoy the food I suggested, and I could not for the life of me entice myself to be intrigued by his stories about his job, his boss and his real estate investments.
Slowly, an imaginary hole began to form on the floor of the restaurant. I imagined jumping into and disappearing in a swirl of vortex, taking me to a different time and place.
I began daydreaming about other things — did I water my cactus? Did I record last night’s The Walking Dead episode? Can this guy talk about anything else aside from his inspiring boss?
Two hours later on the drive back, my parents called me. They even had me on speaker.
My mother was curious to know how traumatising the experience was while my father was more concerned about who paid for dinner.
I told them that was the last time I would ever go on a blind date, and so far I have kept my word.
The experience made me wonder about the cultural pressure on young women in our society. As we make claims that we are a fast-paced evolving community with liberal ideas on marriage, there still remains some level of traditional sentiment on it.
There is an alarm that goes off somewhere when a woman of a suitable age is un-betrothed.
A troop of Special Agent Aunties from the Matchmaking Bureau will then emerge, bringing with them a select database of suitable young men who can “save” her from the possible devastation of dying alone in her kitchen.
IS MATCHMAKING A SUPERFLUOUS FUSS?
Not really. Despite my personal unpleasant account of it, observation tells me that there are plenty of people, especially within our cultures, who were united through matchmaking and have happy marriages.
However, the execution should be dependent on the willingness of the participants themselves. If a person is excited at the prospect of being match-made, then why not?
But if she isn’t, suffice to say that it will be like one of those old school movies where the bride is dragged kicking and screaming while being forced to marry a guy with a large moustache.
Okay, it’s usually never that dramatic, but you get the idea. After all, where is the sanctity of this pursuit of companionship if it is only done for the sake of fulfilling cultural expectations?
A geoscientist by day and an aspiring writer by night, Amal Ghazali ponders on everything, from perplexing modern-day relationship dilemmas to the fascinating world of women’s health and well-being. All done of course, while having a good laugh. Read more of her stories at bootsoverbooks.com