Or so it happens in my case.
- Parent (depending on whose turn it is) breaks the good news that someone wants to meet me. Now that someone can very well be a) a guy with his parents b) a guy with his mother c) a set of parents looking to marry off their son. I'm serious about my parents taking turns to break this delightful news to me. I won't be surprised if they play rockpaperscissors to determine who gets the honor each time.
- An hour before guests arrive: Wardrobe apt for a proper brought up young lady: check. Brazen hair tamed: check. Make up minus the copious amounts of dark kohl: check.
- Proper tea/dinner with the guests. Usually entails making small talk without revealing the fact that I work 54-70 hours per week. Of course, if my mother isn't there I'm very happy to air that bit of dirty family laundry.
- Stage two if you haven't met the son: Meet son. Hint at my commitment to work. Inadvertently establish that will not be serving him anda parathas like his mum (and have never made a parathas in 20+ years of existence). Will hopefully scurry off and tell mother of bridey hopeful gone banshee. (NOT my mother mind you, must be done in a delicate manner wherein my mother does not get wind of it)
- If they are interested (never just the guy, you know, its the hearty mother-son combo) one must pray parents don't consider him good enough, which has so far been the case.
- Give self congratulatory pat on shoulder.
