Home > Dating Dr. Dil(5)

Dating Dr. Dil(5)
Author: Nisha Sharma

“The last time we went was what, five years ago?” Bobbi asked. “Right before your dating moratorium. God, does your waxer find cobwebs in your coochie?”

Kareena threw a napkin at her best friend. “Oh, shut up. You work more than I do, and I don’t see you getting regular checks for your jalebi.”

Their server arrived with plates piled high with biryani, butter chicken, veggie tandoori platters, and naan. “Here you go, ladies,” he said, his New Delhi accent as thick as his full head of curling black hair. “Let me know if you need more drinks.”

Kareena began piling food on her plate after the server left. Hopefully it tasted as good as it looked. She was starving since she hadn’t gotten a chance to eat all day. That along with her restless sleep meant she was eternally irritated.

Bobbi leaned across the table, her cleavage on display. “You would’ve had such a kick-ass thirtieth that your mom would be calling in from her next life to join in, and then give you advice on how to keep the house.”

Kareena snorted. “I doubt that. Besides, most of our mutuals wouldn’t show up. Everyone we know is either in a long-term relationship, engaged, newly married, or popping out children. Do you think they want to celebrate a single friend turning thirty? Their calendars are filled with cake tastings or mommy playdates. If they do, by some miracle, have an opening in their schedule, they’ll end up judging me and saying things like ‘you’ll know when you find the right one,’ or ‘you’re so lucky to be single without responsibilities.’”

Veera squeezed Kareena’s arm. “Don’t be like that. I’m sure everyone would’ve come to support you. Thirty is a big deal.”

“But only because we make it that way,” Kareena said.

Her best friends, the same ones she’d met during freshman orientation at Rutgers, the only other Punjabi girls in her seminar classes, watched her, patiently waiting for her to adjust her glasses, step up on her proverbial soapbox, and explain.

“At thirty, people have all these expectations of how many life milestones I should’ve achieved, but how can I do any of those things when I don’t have enough money to buy my mother’s home, my car is still in a shed in my backyard, and trying to find true love makes me nauseous? Even though that’s what I want. And in the past few months, that’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

Veera and Bobbi glanced at each other then back at Kareena.

“What do you mean?” Veera asked. “You’ve been thinking about true love? Like . . . dating?”

Kareena nodded. “I have the job I want. Now it’s time to get the family I want.”

“Girl, sometimes, life doesn’t go according to your spreadsheets and timelines,” Bobbi said. “Finding love may take some time.”

“Which I don’t have,” Kareena said.

“Wait, you said your dad has the money, right?” Veera asked. “Are you going to . . .”

“Try to find a guy in time to get engaged and ask for my dad’s wedding gift to pay off the house?” Kareena downed the rest of her drink. “That’s the idea.” She’d been thinking about it all day. Even if she put less than 20 percent down for the mortgage, she wouldn’t be able to afford the house. It was in a prime location and way out of her price range. Getting married was the only option she had.

“I thought you wanted hearts, flowers, and romance,” Veera said. “Please tell me you’re not giving that up.”

Kareena shook her head. “I’m making one promise to myself in this whole mess. I have to fall in love with this person before I commit to marry him. I want heart eyes, and racing pulse. Romantic gestures, and conversations about forever. I want all of it. He’ll be my jeevansathi even though our falling-in-love journey will be a little shorter than expected.”

“Jeevansathi,” Veera said. Her expression became dreamy, and she clasped her hands together. “That word is so romantic isn’t it? Life partner. For someone who puts up quite a shield, it won’t be easy, Kareena.”

“Like a needle in a fucking haystack,” Bobbi added bitterly.

“Oh, I know. My dad hinted at the same thing. And there is a good chance I won’t win. But I have to try. For my mom.” And for myself, Kareena thought. The house meant so much to her, but it would be meaningless if she had an arranged marriage that was built on compromise only. She didn’t want her life partner to be practical. She wanted him to be . . . well, she had a list.

“Where are you going to find these guys?” Veera asked. She grabbed a naan and began tearing it into small pieces.

“I think online is my only choice, to be honest.”

“Online can work, but consider other dating options,” Veera said. “People treat online dating profiles like they’re shopping on Amazon Prime, and it can burn you out emotionally.”

“Did you know Indians are doing singles cruises now?” Bobbi said with a grin. “And the moms go with their kids.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that,” Kareena said. “I have a short list of websites, and if I can’t find someone that way, then I may try a professional matchmaker or something.”

Bobbi and Veera glanced at each other.

“What?” Kareena snapped.

“Honey,” Veera said softly. “There may be one option you haven’t thought about.”

“The devil works hard, but desi aunties work harder,” Bobbi said.

Kareena volleyed between her best friends, and she saw the truth written all over their faces. The thought was so ludicrous that she almost bolted from her chair. “Absolutely fucking not!” she burst out. “The aunties are like loose cannons. Involving them would be disastrous. Besides, I want true love, not a clinically arranged match.”

“Your aunties are fierce,” Bobbi said. “They are your mom’s best friends and if anything, they’ll be as picky as, if not worse than, you. They know that they’ll have to find someone who is your true love.”

“They bring along so much drama!” Kareena’s brain played back a kaleidoscope of memories. There was Mona Aunty, who dressed up like she was going to a movie premiere every day. She always had gold rings on her fingers and a perfect blowout. Then there was Sonali Aunty who was the most religious of the group. She often used her beliefs as an excuse to say the most ridiculous things. Falguni Aunty was constantly feeding everyone. She’d show up in kurta tops and Crocs and say that everything was going to be okay. And last there was Farah Aunty, the retired software engineer from IBM who knew a little too much about internet stalking.

Together they were dangerous. Kareena remembered the time Farah Aunty burst into her school to verbally destroy her English teacher who refused to pronounce her name correctly. And when Mona Aunty took her to get her first Brazilian and insisted on being within earshot to make sure the waxer was doing a good job. Kareena still had nightmares about Sonali Aunty’s religious studies sessions, and Falguni Aunty’s cooking classes.

“Your aunties will be able to sniff out a man with your qualifications within weeks, which gives you time to date and get to know him,” Bobbi said. “And they know how much a love marriage means to you.”

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