Orientalist Gripes

I like being a working woman. I really do. I like the cash in my bank account. I like not having to take my work home with me, or pulling all-nighters to cram for a final or write a paper.

I don't like that question that haunts my every public move after graduation though. That evil, loaded question that is ubiquitous in this region of the world.

That question even haunted me in the middle of Christmas appetizers.

There I am, enjoying my perfectly chilled champagne, when my uncle's French wife calls me over to sit by her "parce-que je veux te gronder un peu" (because I want to scold you a little).

Frog: Eureka, comment est ta vie amoureuse? (Eureka, how is your love life?)
Eureka, visibly cringing as she anticipates that question: Ça va, tante grenouille. (It's alright, aunt Frog). Eureka clamps shut, refusing to elaborate further.

Frog, completely ambivilous to Eureka's visible loathing of the conversation, and of Frog, continues jabbering in rapid French.

Frog: Oh, but you know, I have such strong misgivings about you ever finding a suitable boy in this country. It is so difficult to form a relationship with Egyptians that goes beyond the superficial hellos and how are you's of social functions. When I was studying and travelling around the world because I am so liberal and cultured and so much better than everyone else, I made many many friends, but in all my years in Egypt, my only friends have been foreigners like myself, I could never make friends with Egyptians. It is so difficult meeting people here because they are confined to their little cliques, one cannot feel welcome. I must start setting you up on dates with boys I find suitable, because Lord knows you won't ever be married at this rate. How can you meet people here? C'est impossible, vraiment...

On and on and on she went, for a good 15 minutes of repeating herself, verbatim. All Eureka could do was nod in fake agreement because one really cannot argue with a psychotic French woman.

When Frog paused to catch her breath, awaiting Eureka's tearful gratitude for Frog offering to save her marital future, Eureka grabs the opportunity to cut her off saying she doesn't like being set up, and rushes to the kitchen muttering something about helping with the turkey.

In the kitchen, Eureka threw a tantrum, munched on semi-prepared food, and downed three glasses of champagne. Eureka spend the rest of the evening blissfully befriending a couple of bottles of wine in a last ditch effort to drown out the Frog's continuing lecture about meeting the right man and not waiting too long.

Yes this is what the world is coming to. Egypt's ardent desire to marry women off is so overbearing, that it has attacked and successfully indoctrinated unstable French minds as well.

Ho, ho, fucking French ho.

Merry Christmas!