Marriage season upon us, tying us in knots

Marriage season upon us, tying us in knots

The Rajab month has arrived, with Rajab 27 falling on Sept. 2.
For Muslims, the day marks the ascension of Prophet Muhammad SAW.
For most Javanese and Sundanese, whose traditions are as much
influence by Islam as by Hindu and Buddha, this month is
considered an auspicious time to wed. I don't know why.

My friend Dee and I are both in our early 30s. I'm single and
she's recently divorced. Unsurprisingly, when we attend weddings,
we're both bombarded with questions from supposedly well-meaning
friends, who unfortunately often appear to be intrusive. To me,
they invariably ask: "Where's your boyfriend and when are you
getting married?" To Dee, it has always been the unsolicited
advice of: "He's a jerk, poor you, but don't get stressed, it's
much better to have a husband than not".

It's obvious why Dee and I prefer to attend weddings together
whenever possible, because then we can lend each other support
when people's questions become suffocating.

I still go to weddings. I actually enjoy them, plus I won't
let some snide remarks stop me from coming to celebrate a loved
ones' love fest. Other friends, attractive, successful
professionals in their 30s, stopped attending weddings long ago
because of the barrage of often insulting questions. I don't
blame them. If you play it too cool, people start rumors of you
being gay. If you happen to be moody and give a rather assertive
reply, there goes the whole sensitive spinster thing.

This weekend Dee and I were invited to the wedding of a
dancing buddy, a shy guy who turns into Ricky Martin once the
music starts. He met his bride in dancing circles, which gives
Dee and I some hope that there are eligible, straight single men
who like and know how to dance. His reception was full of dancing
enthusiasts, and everybody arrived wearing their glitziest
dancing shoes and carrying a mixed CD. Someone nudged the DJ to
start early, and people scrambled to the dance floor, forsaking
the kambing guling and chicken satay, surrendering to the allure
of Latin music. It was a pure blast.

I was just taking a break after a five-song salsa marathon
with a dynamic Latino when someone tapped my shoulder. Apparently
a college friend who works with the bride. Predictably, right
after the usual pleasantries, the ultimate question ensued. Upon
hearing I was single, instead of the typical "Oh you must be very
picky" response, she let out a sigh. Not judgmental, but more
like disappointment. Why, I asked. "Cause I thought that hot
Latino was your man and I was just very happy for you," she said.

I laughed so loud Shakira's voice disappeared into the
background momentarily. Honey, be happy nevertheless, cause I'm
actually happy right now. I'm here with good friends, and I just
burned 600 calories doing the salsa. Hot Latino boyfriend or not,
I'm really having a good time, so please don't tell me that I
should be feeling like I'm lacking something, Allow me to indulge
in it while it lasts, before I return to my normal life that
includes attending the nuptial ceremony earlier today. Life's
events regularly remind me of my single status already. Allow me
to deal with it privately. I don't need people to put me on the
spot and expect some graceful response all the time.

Naah, I didn't give her the speech. Instead, I gave her a peck
on the cheek and made a detour to the dance floor. Dee was
turning and flipping with a groomsman who's apparently a much
better dancer than the groom. And as any wise dancer knows, you
need a man who can lead to make the dance work. I needed to
wrestle that man away from Dee.

It's just another weekend for us singles here in Jakarta. You
just smile, and salsa away.... Nos bailamos, amigos!

--Miss Sassy