Ok, now that the stock for single Indians is up, you need to be on your game if you want to date one. One, SRK is short hand for Shahrukh Khan, one of India's premiere Bollywood celebrities.
If you are Indian, you can skip the rest of this post and spend the next four minutes savoring your desirability.
Matt Forney is a Chicago-based author, journalist and radio host.
He blogs at Matt and is also on Gab, Instagram, Sound Cloud, and You Tube.
Forget about Aishwaryi Rai and every other smoking hot Bollywood actress you’ve ever seen: the average Indian girl has a Coke can physique and bad genes.
While not as disgustingly obese as the average American, even fit Desi girls are packing more poundage than any girl should be legally allowed to have.
I think she’d be happy I found love with a gentle man.
I was weird: into books, writing, big ideas and sad movies. I met someone in the midst of finding my voice on the page: I fell in love with my teacher. There was something about his eyes, his words, which reached right into the heart of me and made my pain and beauty feel witnessed. He didn’t know how white women followed me around in stores, or how people judged me on the street. But he got the heart of me: that sometimes I stare off in the distance thinking about my mother’s small hands, or how much I miss my grandmother’s smell. I cry when I read about another Indian girl going missing, and that’s something. My son’s hair is light brown and his eyes are a special type of gray, still trying to decide what they are.
He was hapless, a thinker, goofy, with a big head like mine and a ton of weird interests, but he was white. It was profound, and everything I could hope for in a man, but the problem was he wasn’t Native. I finally understand my sister’s struggle when she’d take her mixed children shopping, and people mistook her for the kid’s maid. But my sons aren’t any less loveable for being mixed, and while one is darker than the other, both of them will have a right to sing the songs of my nation and stand with me in honor.
I think she’d be glad I’m with a man who lets me write, but I know she’d be disappointed he wasn’t Native. There was thousands of brilliant Native men out there, and I probably would have found one had I held out a little longer, but I don’t think I’d be better for it. The thing people live for, after years of watching you be tortured by it.
I imagine her quiet disapproving nature as she watches my children play, and how she’d secretly be scared for their futures. I found someone who respects me as Indigenous, and who might be a corny white guy sometimes, but for the most part, he’s willing to learn how to help me pass on my lineage.