Do you know how this whole “arranged marriage” thing is supposed to work? Because Husbandrinka has no clue. This weekend I told him some wonderful news–I found a perfect future husband for My Beautiful Daughter (MBD) and I wanted to know what the next step is.
“What do you mean future husband?” he asked. “She’s eleven years old.”
“Yes, and he’s twelve,” I told him. Which is a perfectly acceptable age difference. It’s not like I’m marrying her off to Anna Nicole Smith’s ex-alive ex.
“They haven’t even gone through puberty yet,” My husband, ladies and gentlemen. If you ever find yourself in need of marital advice, you know where to turn.
“That’s why I said FUTURE. I’m not an animal, you know.”
“Why do we need to plan this now?” I can tell that he wants out of this conversation and possibly our marriage.
“Because he’s perfect. Did you miss that part? He’s perfect and we’ll never find anyone better.”
“Shouldn’t our children find their own mates?”
“Yeah, right. I can’t leave my future happiness up to them. This guy is perfect and I want to lock him in.”
“I don’t want any part of this.”
That’s why I’m turning to you.
Hear me out.
This guy, lets call him Max, mostly because that’s his name, is super-duper cute. Even my daughter thinks so. But more important than that, from a few pointed questions that I’ve asked, his parents own some impressive real estate. Also there’s an aunt who lives in Costa Rica and loves it when Max visits. Preferably with his future mother-in-law. What? Don’t you want me all kissed by the sun and shit? Alright, Max and MBD are in the same karate class and although he’s three belts above her, he never, ever tries to hit her.
I’ve had my eye on him as future son-in-law for a while, but this weekend he did something that made me realize that I had to move and fast.
We were leaving karate, and MBD announced that she wanted to check out some new fashion at Old Navy. I assumed that Max would just go ahead home, but he stayed with us. And not only did he stay with us, but he held MBD’s bag while she shopped. And not only did he hold MBD’s bag while she shopped, but at no time did he complain about it. And when she held up a shirt with a puppy on it and said “ISN’T IT ADORABLE!!!!” he agreed. Not enthusiastically, like “I want one too” but in that “whatever makes you happy, dear” way.
Which is more than I can say for Husbandrinka.
I’m not sure about the next step. The rational thing would be to contact his parents and let them know, but I’m afraid that they may be some old fashioned freaks who will think that I should supply a dowry. Which is like a mortgage, and I’ll probably have to get pre-approved, which may take time.
If anyone knows anything about this procedure, please let me know. Because nothing good happens when people choose their own mates. Just ask Husbandrinka.
Holy shit! Did you know that cleaning ladies had names?!