My Pickle is Ripe


It’s been too long. I’ve had sexandfessenjoon withdrawals – more fessenjoon and less sex, if you know what I mean. I’ve had the pleasure of participating in some quality family time lately. Home-cooked meals, clean sheets, and unsolicited love advice – really, what more could you ask for?

My mom especially had a lot of questions for me on this visit – how’s my job … which lasted all of 30 seconds before she interrupted to ask about my dating life. Here’s something you should all probably know about my mother:

For as long as I can remember, my mom told me to steer clear of Persian boys and she stressed the importance of being an independent woman.

Through the years, she became more emphatic with this advice – especially after her divorce.

Farrah, marriage is estupid. Anyvone who is married right now is unhappy – believe me.” 

Farrah, never depend on a man. Dey are all after vone ting.” 

And as much as I think my mom is a little cray at times, those words really resonated. More importantly, I thought she would be the last person to bug me that my biological clock is ticking… at 25.

vibrateBut the second I walked through the door of her home, she was like, “Who are you dating? Vhen do you vant to get married? Is dere anyvone in VAA-SHING-TOON who is good?”

My response is always the same, “No mom, I’m good for now… thanks though.”

But clearly, my persistence on wanting to focus on my career and life didn’t sit well with her this time.

At 25, I’m on the brink of torshideh. And once I’m pickled and “old” – I won’t be wife material anymore.

That’s probably the biggest fear for any Irooni family – their daughter can be the head of a Fortune 500 company but none of that matters as much if she doesn’t have a husband and child to back her ass up.

Now, I don’t want to be the head of a major company — or a millionaire for that matter. I just want to do something that I’m passionate about – and if someday, a guy fits into that picture, then great.

But if not, I don’t think it should be the end of my world. And as for right now, I’m so confused about how to reach my passion that bringing a guy into that picture could only result in compromises that I’m not quite ready to make.

This justification of course, didn’t make sense to my mom. The next morning, she got on the phone and hit up all her Irooni madar friends who have sons (with potential). 

Farrah, he is a PEZESHK!! PEZESHK!! He is very good and handsome – I svear to GOD.” 

(Translation: Pezeshk = doctor… aka MOM/DAD dream come true).

Farrah, he bought his last girlfriend a MER-CEH-DES.  It vas used but dat is still like 40 tousand. He is very good.” 

Was the mercedes black? Because if it’s any other color, I’m not interested.

Too gooshi mikhay?” 

(Translation: Do you want to get hit in the ear?).


As if this wasn’t enough – her FRIENDS started calling her with ideas of prospects, “Tell Farrah to vork on KAVEH … he is a dentist now!”

This was a pretty low-point for me – they had run out of all options so they were beginning to suggest my GOD-BROTHER.


After my mom realized that her efforts were evidently worthless – she decided that the only way to get through to me was to talk shit about her friend’s daughters who were older… and still single.

I told Parisa to hook up vit dat guy at my birthday party but she says she don’t like him because he can’t dance.  Dat’s it? If he can’t dance… marry him… and den take him to dance class.” 

shut up

Marriage feels like the never-ending race – once you get the ring and the wedding, you have to start answering questions about babies.

And there’s only so many excuses we can come up with.

Once our career is no longer a viable excuse, we focus on the little things – like his inability to dance (though I think that has to do more with the lack of rhythm… which can potentially translate to bad sex). 

Basically whatever can get the constant nagging off our backs even for a day – we’re down with it … at least I am. 

And sometimes, I won’t lie – I do think about the fact that at 25, I haven’t really had a “long-term grown-up” relationship and that maybe it just isn’t in the cards for me.

But why is that such a bad thing? Why do I have to be afraid of the fact that I might be “single and torshideh” for the rest of my life?

Our society encourages this idea that we are on this earth to reproduce and build our population – but if that were the case, why are there so many women who can’t even have babies? Or why is it just so damn hard to find a guy that means more to us than a friend or good sex?

I think that only we can determine our future and what is right for us. And while our tradition and culture may play a role in that – only we really know what makes us happy – and that’s all that should matter.

I know that I can be happy on my own and/or with someone else. I don’t think it has to be one or the other.

As long as I am happy with my outcome – then my parents should be happy for me too.







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