The Online Date Fiasco

I don't think I even knew there was such a thing as on-line dating until, a couple of years ago, this guy I used to know brought over his new girlfriend for a visit. She was a very beautiful Iranian and she had come to our small town to study Microbiology, she told me. He had a slightly different story. They had met on an Internet Dating Site, and she had flown over to marry him. Or so he told me smugly, very transparently smugly at having landed such an attractive fish. The whole thing struck me as very weird, to say the least, because:

1. People from abroad, if they come to study in India, generally study in cities like Pune, Bombay, Bangalore, etc. We are a nice town, but not exactly famed for our educational institutes.

2. This was the first I was hearing about people crossing International boundaries in order to marry just on the basis of an on-line acquaintance.

3. I had known this fellow for many years and he had never struck me as marriage material for anybody. Some people have an especial problem with letting go of their teenage years - that was this guy . He was 28 and had as yet neither held any kind of job nor was making any effort to find one. He was still living off his family, being extravagant with his older brother's hard-earned money and his widowed mother's life savings, and zooming around on a motor-bike to see the girls on College Road.

Still it was none of my business and wouldn't have been either if the budding romance hadn't started coming unstuck on my door-step. The beautiful Iranian came to see me on her own the very next day to tell me 'the whole story'. She had apparently taken a liking to me and thought I deserved it. She admitted that, okay, she had come with marriage in mind, but having taken one look at the 'real him' on arrival at the airport itself, she had decided that this wasn't 'it' for her. I was going to go back on the next plane, she told me, but he said, since you're here, why don't you stay a while? Besides you want to study Microbiology, don't you? I'll put you through college. So she stayed. She had since found out that he had lied on many major points - he did have a Mechanical Engineering Degree, but he had flunked twice before getting it and no employer was hiring him; he had not set up a factory as he said he had; he was not about to open a Pharmacy Shop like he said he was, that required a Pharmacy Degree, which, of course, he didn't have. And, worst of all, it didn't look like he was going to 'put her through' anything beyond his suspicious, over-possessive attitude - college had begun over three weeks ago and he changed the subject every time she brought it up.

"He lied about everything!" she said, bursting into tears. "And he's so mean to me - like... like he owns me or something."

"Then why," I asked in amazement, "aren't you done with the visiting yet?"

"What?"

"Why don't you go back to Iran? You have a return ticket, don't you? Get on a plane and go. Look, I hate to say this, but you were an idiot to come in the first place and a bigger one for staying - why on earth should he put you through college anyway? And how come your family let you come like this? I thought you were all pretty conservative in Iran. Anyway, go back. Or....." I paused, remembering all the media stories about Iran. "Will you and your family get into serious trouble or something if you go back?"

She had wiped her tears and was looking annoyed. Iran is not like that, she said sharply. That's the American Media and they are all liars.

Same like your boyfriend, I thought, and asked, "So then why are you still staying?"

"He said," she said, "that he will change if I stay, maybe with my help....."

It always galls me when girls make such bloody fool talk. I don't know what it is, an over-glut of B-grade movies or third-rate romance novels?

"Yeah?" I inquired, sarcastically. "How are you going to help? You're going to run the non-existent factory or tend the non-existent shop?"

"I...I will find a job."

"Doing what? You're not qualified for anything. You're not going to get into Microbiology this late and you wouldn't have got a seat there on just 61% anyway."

"Maybe I'll get something like typing..."

"Can you type?"

"No...."

"Well, that's a requirement for a typist. I don't know what they do in Iran, but here in India it's an absolute must. But, listen, why do you want to stick around with such a liar anyway?"

She gave me a pathetic look.

"He needs me," she said.

"I give up," I said.

She didn't think I ought to though and she went back and told him everything I'd said. The next thing I knew he was yelling down the phone at me. How dare I interfere? Did I know he had spent over two thousand dollars on 'this bloody girl'? Did I know that he had been buying her expensive Hotel food and Mineral Water and Soft Drinks every single day for the past three months because 'this bloody girl', she wouldn't touch anything home-cooked? Did I know he had renovated the house and bought a PC for her personal comfort? Did I know he had bought her an expensive puppy? How dare she complain about anything to anybody? Who was going to return his money? Me?

"Listen," I snapped. "If you've spent so much, you're a bloody fool and it's your problem. But your money doesn't change the facts - you lied to her."

"What the hell's it to you?"

"It's nothing to me - but if she wants to go back and you don't let her, I'll tell you what I'll do - I'll call the Press, the Police, and the Embassy and have them look into the matter."

There was a sharp silence from his end and then a sharper click before the line went dead.

The next day his mother came to see me, clearly anxious to make certain that her precious son didn't wind up in jail. If it had been my son I would have made certain he did - before he fooled around like this with some girl. But to each their own, I suppose. She started telling me what a tremendous pain the girl was - she does nothing, except criticize, my son is jumping through hoops for her, she wants something, he goes and gets it - he got her that awful dog, which is an even greater pain - but, no, nothing is good enough for her. He lied to her, I pointed out. She gave me a puzzled look. But, she said, what does that matter when he's being so good to her?

"Aunty," I said, trying to stay patient, "just tell him to let her go, or he's just going to wind up in some serious trouble."

"Of course, he's not stopping her if she wants to go," she said hurriedly. "We'll send her back, don't worry. Besides he's going away to the US soon anyway. He's got a job offer."

"Really? What job offer?"

"Well, you know, the sort of work he does."

"No, I don't. What sort is that?"

"Well...er... he knows more about that than me, I'm sure. Well, I've to be going now. You don't worry about anything now, okay?"

"I wasn't worried about anything to begin with," I said dryly.

However, a couple of weeks later, I phoned the girl and she sounded very perky. Everything is just fine, she assured me, I've started going to college. They gave me admission on the foreigners' quota. He's paying for it and everything is fine.

Okay, I said, and forgot about the matter.

Two weeks after that I got a long-distance phone-call late at night. It was this girl.

"I'm calling from Iran," she said, "I went back after all."

"For a visit?" I inquired. "When are you coming back?"

"I'm never coming back!" she said. "All my stuff is still there, but I'm not coming back! Never! I hate India!"

"Does he know you're not coming back?"

"I don't care what he knows," she said. "I didn't tell him or he would have made such a fuss. I left all my stuff behind, do you know? It's all still there, but what do I care? Are you going to tell him when you see him?"

"It's not likely I'm going to be seeing him ever," I informed her. "You ended a beautiful friendship."

"Really?"

"No, not really."

A pause.

Then she burst out, "You know I miss him so much!"

Oh, Good Grief, I thought.

"He was so warm and soft and snuggly - and he used to lick my face every time I was sad."

"Excuse me?"

"My puppy," she said. "That's the only thing I regret in all this. He was the first dog I ever had, do you know?"

Last I heard she's thinking of writing a book to commemorate the experience. People, keep an eye out for an upcoming best-seller - 'Not Only Without My Puppy'.