I’ve been with Suzanne for what… twenty years or something now. During that time I have never felt the need to get married. Everything about marriage is false, made up, over the top. I blame films, they’re all like; “Oh look, the princess is getting married!” They’ve never done a follow up to Cinderella to see how it was after the shoe-fitting? Did they get on? I mean you just don’t know. It’s easy to be romantic when everyone is getting flowers with a nice dress on and all that. But what is life like on a shitty day when your boilers knackered?
So looking at marriage and relationships and the different reasons people pick each other, they have a really simple way of doing things out in India – arranged marriages.
Arranged marriages are like online dating, except their mums and dads get together and you don’t get a say on whether he is the person for you. I don’t know who my mum would pick, she likes anyone really. She tends to feel sorry for people who look a bit odd. That’s what she likes about Elvis, when he was on stage sweating and he’d get a towel off someone who was a bit ugly. The fat lump, he’d never go for the nice looking woman. I think that’s what she would do with me – no one else would want this girl, why don’t you go out with her? My mum’s a bit too nice for her own good. On the other hand, my dad would go for someone who runs a butchers or something so that he can get some free meat.
So for the arranged marriage they give you a form to fill in with your details. Date of birth, height, blood type… why is that there? I mean surely you don’t pick someone depending on your blood type. Being bald, I think that should be on the form. Loads of women would say they don’t want a bald bloke. Or hairy! I’ve got hairy ears, hairy chest, hair on my back – just none on my head. Some women would be like definitely not but there’s not a space for that on the form. They’re asking for my blood type and I’ve never heard of that. I have never heard anyone complain that it wasn’t working with someone because of their bloody type.
Hair is important. If she was bald I’d want to know!
So then they want me to write down what I want in a woman. One of the questions is intelligence. Well, yea. I want an intelligent woman but not exam results. I just want common sense in a woman. It asks for technical qualifications so I put down electrical because I haven’t got a clue with that.
I don’t want someone who is into celebrity lifestyles. You know, I don’t want someone who is into reading Heat Magazine and all that. Wasting their time on that sort of shit. She can have magazines but not that sort. I’d prefer it if she didn’t watch soaps too because they are on every night now. She’d never get anything done. Jewellery too. I can’t stand too much jewellery. A mate of Suzanne’s use to wear loads of jewellery and I couldn’t concentrate on anything. It was like knocking about with a wind chime.
Then there’s the suit. I don’t really do suits. If I’ve got to wear a suit then I would rather keep it simple with a t-shirt rather than a shirt and tie. Keep it casual. First impressions can be important. With Suzanne, if I had met her mum straight away then I might have said forget it. Who knows, though? Sometimes you can just put two people together and they just get on. Look at Heston Blumenthal, that chef, he puts shit together that shouldn’t work. Viennetta with a Yorkshire Pudding on the top and people love it. People say that shouldn’t work, they shouldn’t be together but it’s nice isn’t it?
So then you meet the parents and they spend an hour asking you questions and in India they mainly want to know if you are a doctor or not. When I tell them I am not they all look pretty disappointed. Then when I tell them I own my own five-bedroom house their opinion of me completely changes. They start planning on moving the whole family into my house and want to meet again the next day to discuss plans for the wedding. Maybe even go to the temple and have a word with the Priest about making the announcements.
I mean that is proper mental. An hour and fifteen minutes and in India they have sorted the rest of my life out. I’ve sat in doctors waiting rooms with someone longer than that! I don’t even know her name and the family have got the pair of us married already.
So while I am looking into arranged marriages I have got caught up in the moment. I had forgotten I’ve got Suzanne at home. Last time I spoke to her there was a problem with the boiler again. She’s no idea that I am sat out in India talking about getting married to a woman I met about an hour ago.
Overall, it’s good to know that if things went tits-up with Suzanne then there is someone else in the world who would put up with me. I don’t think she looked at me as “The One”. There is no way you could find the one here where the population is over a billion people. They have enough trouble finding a parking space it is that busy here.
So there is no way you are going to find, “The One!”