Identity

To blog or not to blog?

I've realised I have to be careful about whom and what I blog about. That might seem obvious but one can really get carried away, writing about themselves, it's so cathartic you almost forget that someone out there will know everything about me and there are some things I want to keep private.

This in particular applies to Alex. Poor thing, he's already been complaining to a friend about the aftermath of being with a journalist. Anything between Alex and I will be related to the effects of my family on our relationship, not factors which were personal to us.

Blogging is quite hard. I want people to read my blog but I don't want my friends to know some of this stuff, which is why it's anonymous, but I still tell people what i'm doing (to justify what on earth it is I do all day) and everyone wants to read it. I hope, apart from my family, who i'll never tell, I don't piss anyone else off in what i've written.

But I'll include friend's dating stories, as well as reactions from parents to potential suitors for their daughters, as this opens up another area of British-Asian culture which isn't well known. To be honest, I can't add anything personal in this section as my family disapprove of all men, regardless of colour or religion.

A tale of two lives

I'm realising living a double life is hard the second time round.

It's Friday and my evening started well, by meeting a friend for a drink. We had a couple of drinks (mine were non-alcoholic) and a cheese selection at a posh wine bar in the city, sat outside. I could have stayed out with my friend all night, chatting and catching up. But I had to leave early to get to my parents home. My friend was understanding, as he knows my family situation. But I thought, he must think i'm nuts, a thirty three year old still answering to her parents.

I've made 7.30pm my curfew time, for arriving home after work. My father still considers it too late and has already questioned it, but i've decided to stick to it.

Whilst I was on the train I started to worry about what would happen if I arrived home late. Then it struck me how stupid that was and how could I be doing this again? I've lived a life of freedom for so long, taking for granted being able to come and go as I please, yet here I was, thinking of the excuses of why I'd arrived home at 7.30pm, calculating what time I should say I left work, what time the train left London Bridge, what time it arrived at the station near our house, as i'd be asked all of these things. What in hell's name am I doing? If I have to justify why i'm arriving home at 7.30pm, there's no way they'll ever give me any freedom to live the kind of life I want.

I changed into Pakistani clothes as soon as I arrived home and went into the lounge where everyone was eating dinner. No-one apart from my sister-in-law acknowledged me. I sat there, eating dinner in silence with the rest of them, my parents, brother and sister-in-law whilst we watched Peace TV. Peace TV is an Islamic channel which my father and brother watch all day, interspersed only by praying. They sit there, watching Imams lecture about religion, make comments and praise the various speakers.

This is a completely biased channel which has no room for debate, no interesting documentaries. It's like an extension of my family, various self styled religious men lecturing on how to be a good Muslim, to a room full of men. There are no women speakers or audience members.

So i've gone from living the life I feel comfortable in, to forcing myself to fit into a mould created for me which, no matter what I do, I find impossible to maintain for longer than a few days. By the end of dinner I was beginning to feel suffocated and helpless. I'm not sure if my sitting on the fence, trying to fit the Pakistani Muslim girl mould whilst maintaining my Western lifestyle which I love can work. I think eventually i'll have to make a choice. I can see that now.

Dating

I've been single since the beginning of September when Alex and I split up, after a little more than eight years together. Being single and in Spain had been amazing and i'd had a great time.

But then I returned to Britain. Despite mentioning to all my friends I was keen to date, I wasn't interested in anyone they suggested. I was beginning to think dating in Britain would be a disaster for me.

Then a week ago I met a couple of friends I used to work with. They told me about their experience of a popular dating site they'd joined whilst single about a year ago. I couldn't believe some of their stories, they'd both had lots of success, had a lot of fun and met lots of men. The icing on the cake was that one of them, Karina had actually married someone she'd met on the site, she'd told me he was a friend of friend!
The other, Amber, had dated one guy for six months and another for a few months. They'd been taken out to fancy restaurants, posh hotels and had had offers of holidays in exotic locations. They were insistent I should join and given my situation, living with my sister, the family issues building up, I thought, why not? If nothing else, it'll get me out in the evenings and I might make some new friends. Either that or i'd have some fun stories to tell, like Amber and Karina had. They'd had me in stitches. Some of their dating stories, good and bad, will be on the site in the future.

So that evening I went online. It took ages as the site encourages you to write as much about yourself as possible, with the aim of attracting a lot of interest. Which I did so. My username was Salsa2326, as I thought that'd be catchy, and my opening line mentioned my salsa dancing and graffiti drawing (I thought that'd attract attention, not many people can graffiti, can they?). I paid my twenty five pounds and waited.

Soon enough my profile was attracting attention - I couldn't believe it! I was getting 'winked' at (a bit like being poked at on Facebook) and e-mails were landing in my inbox. But the attention wasn't from attractive, intelligent thirty something men as i'd hoped. I'd kept my specifications fairly general as I didn't want to discriminate, but this meant I was opening myself to contact from all sorts of men who were also looking for 'Love'.

From The Bronzed God (he wasn't, he was fifty years old but thought if he mentioned he was financially solvent that'd make a difference. It didn't) to Palsy (a twenty five year old teacher who, from his photo looked sixteen), it seemed my profile was attracting all sorts. It kept me in fits of laughter on a rainy Sunday and I had to pretend to my family I was on MSN chatting to a friend.