I had absolutely zero interest in allowing my father to arrange my marriage to anyone. While my friends may have ended up in perfectly content matches, I couldn’t give in to the archaic practice of this whole arranged marriage business. Or marriage in general. Or commitment, for that matter. No. Freaking. Thank. You. If I wanted to answer to a man for the rest of my life, I’d just live with my father. Thanks to a culture where our twenties meant draconian aunties swooping in to play matchmaker, I had to battle the nauseating notion of lifelong commitment.
