This has to be fake.

by f

courtesy Postsecret Favorites via Flickr

Read: “I want an Arranged Marriage”.

No, you don’t.

No, you don’t want an arranged marriage.

(I understand it’s an emotional argument to make. I also understand that I can’t make blanket statements. I am going to violate every cardinal rule of argument or political correctness — you know, that convention that prevents us social anthropologists from saying that one tradition is inherently better than the other.)

The writer has chosen not to reveal her name. This is smart. She is clearly confused and her thoughts are badly organized. If she gave her real name, she would have been pilloried across the internet.

This story was a mishmash of disjointed orientalist stereotypes, and it should not have been run. I love the Frisky’s GirlTalk segments as a rule, but this is awful. I hope against hope that this doesn’t turn into a farce of Gilbert-style proportions.

Anon begins her story at the cusp of her sister’s wedding. The event is in Goa. Her sister met her fiance at a Buddhist monastery. At 31 she has had a long history of unlucky love. Hopelessly addicted to interfaith relationships, she says, she subjected herself to a lot of heartbreak. I’m not sure this has much to do with the interfaith aspect as it has to do with her shitty radar.

Just after Anon lands in India, she hooks up with Firoz. At 24, Firoz is seven years younger than she is. Though she swears she will take a break from fucking and wooing men, that vow disappears as soon as she encounters fresh dick. Her optimism swells as she understands India is a magical fairy land of primitive customs and smoking hot men.

She wants her fairytale romance —and resultant marriage — to happen so badly  she will do anything. To Firoz’s great credit, however, he takes her on a real ride.  He manages to get everything he wants from her: sex, attention from a foreigner, someone to listen to his made-up problems. He pays for Anon’s food with money he receives from his other girlfriends. He makes half-hearted promises to talk to his mother about “their situation” but warns that “she might not understand.”

And then she says, “I love you, too.”

But when Anon — super-sleuth extraordinaire — discovers Firoz’s other women, he gets rip-roaring drunk. He offers an Alfred E Neuman-esque answer to her disproportionate anguish: “I am zero baby. Please find a good man.” This is the equivalent of “what, me worry?” coming from a drunk adolescent.

Devastated by this (very fake) betrayal, she visits a few holy men. She is from a long line of well-educated foreign women who consult quacks; Gilbert from Eat, Pray, Love consulted at least three of them. A holy man promptly gives Anon weird sex advice (“have a 24-hour sex marathon in the spirit of Osho, a guru in India who believes we should get sex out of our systems before we can convert it to divine love”) and then lets her know that something is fucked with her chakra. Again, whatever that means.

Now that I am done reading, nothing can convince me that this isn’t a plant by some conservative kook. This is even worse than Eat, Pray, Love. This sounds like the work of someone at the Spearhead. This piece incorporates every new-aged entitled East Coast yuppie cliche I can think of. The writing is dull and uninspired. The chronology, battered. This is glaringly obvious to almost anyone who reads this travesty. I hope the negative feedback makes the Frisky publish a clarification. My eyes remain peeled.

3 Responses to “This has to be fake.”

  1. I really hope that its a plant from some conservative kook at the Spearhead. Because, if it isn’t…I want to know what is wrong with this woman’s mind…

  2. I still think this is an elaborate fantasy piece in the vein of EPL. It’s absolutely insipid, and shouldn’t have made it out of the slush pile for that reason alone.


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