Calling Names

The entire world is conspiring to get me into bed with someone. Anyone.

This would all be fine, really, if not for the fact that they want it to be legitimate and the whole Till-Death-Do-Us-Part and joint tax payments return commitment.

Everywhere I go; people have taken to addressing me as Mrs. Bhumika Anand.

First, it was amusing; now, it’s incredibly annoying.

It is as if people take one look at a woman who looks like she’s in her late 20s and immediately assume that she is married.

Why?

Come on, she has to be. Look at her, she looks happy and successful! There’s surely a man behind that look, and the money!

And these are people who know damn well that I am paying my own checks; ordering whiskey for my own self (and paying for it); and looking financially independent because I am gainfully employed.

It’s worse when they are “friendly” acquaintances. Everyone wants to know if the date has been set; if the guy has been found; and when pray, will I feed them the marriage meal?

A little hesitancy to answer the question and you are subjected to the validation of the institution of marriage by the very souls who would’ve been bitching about their children, in-laws, and particularly spouses a mere five minutes ago!

I don’t understand it.

Why is everyone in the world obsessed with your marital status? Is it about knowing for sure that someone has a sex life or lack of thereof? Or is it about having another one bite the dust?

I’ve decided that the next time someone suggests I get married I’m going to tell them that I just prefer getting laid, thank you very much.

And when they address me as a ‘Mrs.,’ I’ll make it a point to correct them and say, “No, darling, I am not married, but yes, life is really very good.”