‘None of this!’ he says drily. ‘Yeah, you sometimes get aunties and stuff trying to matchmake but not to this scale.’
‘Does it matter where in Turkey they’re from?’
‘Not at all. I reckon my mum would be pleasantly surprised if I brought a Turkish girl home, but she knows I’ve never dated one so she won’t be too shocked if I don’t.’
‘My parents would have a thing or two to say if I chose someone from a different culture,’ I admit.
‘So how come you’re dating Hamza then? He’s not Bengali is he? So why—’
‘Hang on, we’re not dating,’ I hurriedly interrupt. ‘We’ve been out once, that’s it. Twice if you include the chocolate event. Which you can’t. So it’s just once.’ I know I sound defensive but I can’t help it. I don’t want people to think that Hamza and I are more than we are.
‘You know what I mean. He’s not Bengali so how come you’re considering him?’
‘Well, desperate times and all that,’ I try to joke, smiling at Adam. He doesn’t smile back, so I figure he wants a real answer.
‘We’ve never explicitly discussed it,’ I say. ‘But members of my extended family have started marrying outside our culture and the older I get, the more lenient my parents are becoming. I get the feeling they won’t mind. But obviously, being Muslim is the main thing. Non-negotiable.’
He ponders this for a minute and I appreciate the fact that he’s not jumping down my throat for a change. He glances down at my biodata again and I can see he’s struggling to make sense of it all. I guess our traditions can be a bit difficult to understand.
‘So? Would you meet me after seeing my biodata?’ I ask playfully, trying to lighten the mood.
‘I dunno about that, ZaraTheExplarer,’ he says with a resigned smile, gesturing at me to follow him back to the office. ‘Your pictures don’t exactly do you justice.’