It's one thing to strop on the Asian daughter shackles onto a teenage girl who doesn't know better than to lust after a career in porn. It's a complete other to go Mullah on a 32-year old professional woman with a superior feminist complex. I mean... do I LOOK like an impressionable twat?
For those of you who haven't seen me, the answer is- no, I do not. I'm quite prude and scary in a fair, fat way.
The good fellow I'm dating is one of the nicest, most down to earth, sensitive blokes I know. All my friends, in fact, feel sorry for him, having found him latched onto me. Compared to the imbeciles I've been with in the past, this one is a complete jackpot in the chivalrous, respectful and sweet department. So you can imagine how maddening it is when my Father takes it upon himself to spew utter rubbish about the poor man to anyone and everyone he meets. In the last 8 years, this wonderful, wonderful, long suffering bloke has been subjected to the vilest harrasment possible, with rumours about his character being spread to the far ends of the earth by none other than my precious parents. They've managed to concoct filth about him being a shady drug pusher, an addict, a two-bit unemployable johnny who is apparently sponging off me, a criminal and a whole host of lovely labels that I do not care to detail out here.
I put up with it through the first two years of dating, assuming it was the natural order of things with Sri Lankan parents. But when the two years stretched to 8 and in the interim they started pulling out all stops in the nasty department for no known reason, it started to get on my last nerve. And it's a very fragile nerve, that one.
I can deal with them nagging at me about the state of my room, my hair and my hemline. What I cannot stand is them taking liberties to play with another person's life and reputation when they have no right to. It can be my boyfriend or someone else's next door neighbour, I don't care; there are some levels to which one does not stoop. They put this poor chap through hell for just existing. Not only have they created absurdities about him, but also blame him for every thing I do that has nothing to do with him, too. Every single action of mine is directly co-related to his evil influence on me.
For fuck's sake.
Two years back dearly beloved's mother passed away after a battle with cancer. You'd think the decent thing to do would be to at least put aside your prejudices for a single day and attend your daughter's boyfriend's mother's funeral. But no, they chose to bastardize that too, spreading ugly stories about his family and getting pissy at members of my extended family who chose to attend the funeral. So much for me expecting them to come around in times of tragedy.
Before you impart advice on how to deal with this situation, trust me, I have. I have done everything possible, from trying to speak with my parents (letters, e-mails, direct conversations both nice and not-so-nice) to seeking intervention from the family priest in the hopes that my dad would at least listen to a man of the Lord. But apparently, even the Lord's servant has been adversely influenced by the demon that is my boyfriend. The Boyfriend's tried addressing the issue with my parents himself too, but to no avail. Not only have they point blank refused to meet with him even ONCE in the last 8 years to at least see what his face looks like before they form opinions about his character, but every other attempt he and his family have made to break the ice have been met with nothing but the most cruel responses.
I just do not get it.
To add insult to injury, my parents go out of their way to rub it into me as to how this treatment is specially saved just for my relationship and no other. My brother, for example, has recently procured himself a girlfriend who they can't get enough of. Myyyyy... you should see the way they fall over themselves cooking dinners for her and going to tea parties with her family. It's great that the poor child has not been subjected to any hassle, but I just cannot find it in myself to sit comfortably and play happy families when any of this unbelievable fawning goes on. It will take some time for me to adjust to how my mother, who after years of prudely opining that a girl going to boy's house is the next best thing to a cheap Thai hooker (in reference to me visiting my boyfriend in broad daylight), is suddenly beside herself with joy when my brother's girlfriend pops over at night and stays long after dinner up in HIS BEDROOM.
Look, I know this all sounds like your typical girly rant about daddy-Vs.-darling issues, but the thing is, come on, noh? I'm 32, goddamit. At some point of time you have to trust me with making my own goddamn decisions in this world. It's not like I'm even close to the TYPE of woman who'd fall for a drug-pushing spongebob. Nothing about me or my history indicates that I can't make a responsible (if not overtly paranoid) decision. Furthermore, the boyfriend himself has been nothing but an absolute showcase of ethics and maturity throughout all these years, not once putting a foot wrong and proving my father correct in any of his accusations. He's even been unrealistically patient with all this, when he has had enough reason to lodge a complaint against my parents for harassment and causing emotional harm. in fact, I've advised him several times to do just that- take my dad to courts for the vicious slander, but he refuses, sitting in the hopes that they will like him someday. Not happening, dude.
If you, like many others have, are thinking of advising me to move out of home and start controlling my own life, then I'm sorry but I've been there and bought the t-shirt already. four years ago I did take my life into my own hands and found a nice little place almost two doors down from my parent's home. And like all good, decent, broad-minded fathers do, mine decided to have chest pains and be rushed to the hospital as a result of the 'stress I was causing him by slapping him the face with my move'. My mother, the doctor and the rest of the world accused me of trying to kill my father.
And so ended the move, as well as the part of me that thus far thought I could ever be independant.
Sigh. So now what do I do? Every day just gets harder to cope. Boy is very nice to have stuck around this long after all this shit being meted out to him, but there's just so much he can do without causing further drama. He sits and twiddles his thumbs as we speak.
I, on the other hand, will explode any moment now. Can you hear the ticking?