She phoned me the next day. Twice.
The first time was to inform me that, although he wasn’t a graduate, he was employed (a huge bonus over here) and that he was looking to marry someone who had a foreign passport, as he would like to travel abroad a bit and it would make things easier, although he doesn’t intend to actually live abroad.
Yeah. Right. Whatever. Anyone want to say the words ‘passport hunter’?
So I came up with the simple excuse that my dad does not approve of anyone who is not a foreign passport holder. Sorted, right? Wrong.
She goes on to tell me that he’s not like that at all, and then she tells me that he’s her BROTHER, which supremely pissed me off. Because obviously her brother is the best thing since sliced bread. They all are – it’s amazing how many age-appropriate, wonderful, good-looking, kind-hearted, strong, steady, hard-working, deep-thinking, make-Edward-Cullen-and-Mr.-Darcy-combined-seem-like-prats guys there are out there.
Really, it’s impressive.
Until you meet them.
Then you make yourself a huge mug of hot chocolate/tea grab loads of chocolate and biscuits and crap and watch your DVDs of Twilight and Pride and Prejudice (the Colin Firth version) back to back, because there is no hope/comparison.
I extricated myself from the predicament by telling her that I would pray on it and think about it. She then said that killer sentence that I hadn’t thought of yet (to busy trying to let her down gently): “I’d love to have you as a sister-in-law”.
Oh hell no.
Seriously, I’ve known this girl four years and I keep ‘losing her number’, and I could wind up being related to her? *i shudder*
Anyways, I kept my cool, told her I’d get back to her by Friday and managed to end the call.
Only she calls me a couple of hours later to ask if we could meet up in person to discuss this, as she feels that it would be best discussed face-to-face.
Not to mention a little too late.
I told her I was busy for the rest of the week (white lie) and that I didn’t know what I’d be doing next week and that I’d call her when I was done praying and thinking on it. I hung up again.
At this rate, the only thing I’ll be praying for will be the patience not to lay into the girl for bugging me out.
Why are people so persistent about something when you can’t tell them the real reason why you’re refusing them? (like: wannabe-sister-in-law stalkers are just as scary as all other stalkers and you freak me out, or: I don’t actually like your family, or: he looks like I could squish him with my little finger, or: he’s minging.)
And now, I’m going to have to phone her up and waste my phone credit to tell her what I could have told her tonight, except she wouldn’t have accepted it and would have gone on a long monologue about just how great he was, and hope to God that I don’t get the monologue next time either.