Facebook has decided, based on the sites I visit and the things I like, that I should sign up to an assortment of marriage brokerage sites. Not dating sites, marriage sites. Big difference here. I get a lot of pop-ups for Shaadi.com. It’s the “world’s largest matrimonial service”. In addition to being a woman looking for man or a man looking for a woman, you can be a mother looking for a son-in-law or a father looking for a daughter-in-law. You can go looking in certain communities: Punjabi, Urdu, Bengali… Pick your religion. Pick your mother tongue. Pick your caste/sect. Shaadi.com is the one stop marriage shop.
Why am I talking about this, you may wonder? I’ve decided to ask my parents to arrange my marriage.
No, not really. But if it were socially acceptable for a white girl living in Vancouver to do so, I think I would.
It is often said that arranged marriages actually have a better chance at making it than “love” marriages. Why is that? I believe that, when two people enter an arranged marriage, that they have already made the decision to get married and stay married. In most cases, it’s what they’ve grown to accept their whole life. They trust that their parents will find the right person for them and, if they make the choice early on, the marriage often turns into a loving relationship.
So what about “love” matches. Honestly, I think a big part of the problem isn’t love. It is, as Greg Sczebel put it, the lack thereof. What most people equate to be love isn’t love at all but raging hormones and emotions that result in a whole lot of lust and when that fades away, they decide that they don’t “love” each other any more. All the shine and glitter is gone and they’re left with the harsh reality that the relationship was based on six pack abs and perky breasts (neither of which will last a lifetime).
Is there hope for love yet? Sure there is. Is there hope for a lasting marriage? Of course. But it always has and always will take two people making the decision to stick it out no matter how far south certain body parts may go.
Little Miss Virgin 