Introductions are in order here so let’s say it is safe to remember me as Bisma from Brooklyn. I am at that age where your dreams no longer matter because you must get married or suffer at the hands of all Pakistani aunties in the whole wide world.

My family and friends, with only good intentions, are constantly setting me up with rishtas and blind dates. All the chai time and dinners have been, to say the least, an interesting experience and a few stand out for many different reasons.

So as usual the never-ending hunt for a husband continues for my mom – just when I thought I was on a break – my dear sweet mother meets a teacher at her job. For more than 20 years, my mother has been a full-time elementary teacher for special needs children and a part-time husband hunter for me. She was smart – she brought around for dinner at Eid and slowly he became a frequent visitor. His name was Zekai (*), a teacher at a New York public school who was pursuing a MA degree. But the most important thing for Zekai was that he was born and raised in Turkey and he loved his country. Its refreshing to meet people who have a love for their nation but the US is already pretty patriotic so it was not something new for me.

Eventually we started dating – this was a slow process because he was older than me and there was a slight language barrier. He was terribly nice and a complete gentleman. It had been a long time since I was treated so nicely that I honestly thought this was someone I should take seriously.

As we started getting to know each other – we started meeting the people we were surrounded with on a daily basis. He took me to his school and introduced me to his students – I even spoke with his family in Turkey. It was sweet.

Zekai was mature enough to be aware of the “lost in translation” situation and mentioned it. I responded that I understood him but if he felt uncomfortable maybe he should start reading English newspapers on a daily basis – it would have been the best way to grow his language skills.

But what got in the way – was not his age, language, family, or friends. It was a whole country. Turkey got in the way of our relationship.

Zekai was on the board of some Turkish community group, he only loved Turkish food and made sure we went to every Turkish restaurant in New York, and then he introduced me to his friends – all of whom were Turkish. All the couples we went out with on group dates were also Turkish.  When he brought sweets home – they were Turkish sweets – baklava (which I won’t complain about but too much baklava goes straight to my hips).

One day Zekai called me super excited about some play on Broadway. Here I have to admit something shameful; although I was born and raised in New York — I had not been to a Broadway show yet and also I have never been to Times Square on New Years Eve (you may make fun of me now). So for the obvious reasons, I also became super excited about the Broadway show.  I even went shopping for a pretty dress – which is something I never do because shopping for clothes gives me anxiety.

I called Zekai the day before and told him about the dress so he was kind enough to drive into the city so I wouldn’t have to take the subway into the city.  We met with his friends at a Turkish restaurant frequently visited by them and walked over to the show. Inside, as we walked upstairs to our balcony seats the attendant handed the playbill. I never glanced at it until we were all seated. The playbill was in Turkish and therefore so was the play. I asked if the play was an adaptation of a play in English/American play and nobody knew or cared enough to find out. I was left to figure out things on my own.

I sat through the whole play trying to listen for words that were familiar to me in any of the five languages I spoke but I was unsuccessful. I was kind of annoyed – I was missing every part; the cries, the laughs, the drama, etc. After the play, we went to dinner with the cast of the play at a Turkish restaurant and everyone spoke Turkish. I smiled and ate quietly.

After the play, I became a bit distant because I needed space to think.  Eventually, we started meeting again but this time it was mostly at home. I was helping him with his thesis paper. He ended up graduating with honors and I even attended the graduation. Soon after, he invited me to go to Turkey with him and said he would even teach me Turkish. I was not the least bit excited and that is when I knew there was nothing more for either of us.

We became friends and to this day – we are good friends. I introduced him to a nice Turkish girlfriend of mine and it looks like things are going well for the both of them. I am happy being me and he is happy being Turkish.

But my mother on the other hand was devastated. She complained to everyone. I heard her telling my khala, “Any other girl would have nabbed him but this one – you know - my smart daughter gave him up and then gave him away. He was ghora and so handsome. I should’ve married her off when she was young. Acha, ab batoi yeh Michigan larkay kay baray may? Age kya hai?”

I guess you cannot make everyone happy. And for my mom the never-ending hunt continues…

Reporting alive and well from the hunting grounds in New York,Bisma from Brooklyn

P.S. I would like to take this opportunity to invite the readers, men and women, to share your story. Please take the following advice into consideration:

Please refrain from using bad language, ranting on women or men, and using real names and/or places out of respect for others.

Other than that, I wish you “happy sharing.”

(*) Names and background information have been changed/withheld to respect person(s) involved.

The views expressed by this blogger and in the following reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of the Dawn Media Group.