freak marriage
Here I was sitting in the bride’s waiting room amidst of hub-bub of wedding prepartion, or should I say, ARRANGED marriage prepartion and all I can feel was ridicule. And my groom? One of my high school friends called ‘yam lou’! (One may, at this point, wonder at the wisdom of my parents in picking me a lifetime partner for me who held such a nick!)
It was a gloomy day indeed.
Needless to say my face was as dark as charcoal. Darker, actually. A slight comfort (or not) was that the groom was equally as unhappy as I were. At this age and era when people has abundant choice to choose their status, sexuality, nationality and even babies’ sex, can somebody tell me why do I have to go through this?
Am I that pathetic that I need an arranged marriage? Seriously?
To add salt to the wound, I don’t even have a proper wedding dress! Nor was the banquet tables properly set! (event organizer gene’s kicked in instantly) Nor do I have bridesmaids! Nor do I want to have my wedding in a Chinese restaurant! Nor is the air-conditioning cold enough! (ok, this is just plain bullshit) Nor is the groom the one I want to spend the rest of my life with! *No offense ok, yamlou.
And then I jerked awake, sweating and swearing.
And then after 2 days realized that, it may just be a sympton of me not overcoming the deep unease that my mum put on me that day when she said that one of my dad’s friend’s son and me are actually quite a match yet.
Shucks, mum, thanks. I’m scarred for life now.
