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The Big Fat Indian Wedding With A Gora

The Big Fat Indian Wedding With A Gora

The Love Trip – Part 7: Our love story moved from India to UK.

Read Part 6: Finally, He Proposed!

“Will you marry me?”
“What,” I thought it was a joke.
“Will you marry me, Meetali?” he was dead serious.

I said yes. I said yes, mid-dinner, with a Tinder date. I can't imagine how he must have felt, because the rest of the dinner was just me on the phone, planning a wedding with Adrian, the love of my life from UK. 
Sorry Tinder guy, it was just a case of wrong place, wrong time, wrong guy. 

Adrian was my right guy. The perfect guy. And now, after weeks of wondering who or what we were, after weeks of bear-sharking, after weeks we were a couple – a formal proper couple with a future. 

He asked me to come meet his folks, and bring mine too. “Let's make this formal.” 
My folks, of course, were a little skeptical about all of it. They sent my 'London cousin' to go see them first. 
“Some background check is required, beta.”

The wait for the visa was longer than I expected, during which Aidy and I had a few fights. I put these down to distance, time-zones, and the resulting gaps in communication. As soon as I would lose my temper, I'd calm myself down knowing this would all be sorted as soon as I met him. And I was right. 

When I saw Aidy at the airport, I flew into his arms. It never felt better. This was home. I met his mum and dad. His dad, an introvert, was first a little distant with me, but soon he couldn't stop talking about life, books, and growing up in Ireland. I could see where Adrian got his gift of the gab. 

The reason I was hoping to get my visa earlier was because I wanted to be there for Aidy's birthday. Finally it was all so cut-to-cut, that I landed just the day before it. Jet lagged, I headed to the club to meet his friends (for the first time) and bring in the birthday. A few drinks down, all the women in the club were grinding with him, and oddly enough it didn't upset me. Let him have his fun, I thought. These girls only get the tip of the iceberg. I get to bang him every day at home. (I did say I was a few drinks down.)

Partying in LondonPartying in London

Read the full series here: The Love Trip

When his friends poured in, I immediately recognized all of them. I had heard stories about them from Aidy, and now it was turn to hear theirs.
“Do you know about the time Aidy slept with a pole dancer, and then later realised she was a hooker... he has a habit...” one of them tried to rile me up. All in good fun of course. I played along. “Right now, he owes me 80 grand...” Everyone laughed, except Aidy. In fact, he got into a fight with the guy who initiated this conversation. But I told him to calm down. There was nothing about his past that would bother me. I was his best friend, I assured him. He could tell me anything.

Aidy got a little too drunk that night, and I had to (struggle and) carry him home. The next day he made it up to me by gifting me a dildo, calling it the third wheel of our relationship. As if we needed any aids.

Drunken debaucheryDrunken debauchery

His mum took me shopping to Oxford street and bought me dresses and shoes and belts and pampered me with all the motherly love. We bumped into one of her colleagues and she introduced me as her daughter-in-law saying, “She calls me MUM. Can you believe it? It's an Indian thing. She's more daughter than daughter-in-law.” I blushed.

I spent a month at Surrey with him and his parents. We would go out walking every day. It was the perfect summer. We couldn’t stop talking about wanting to have babies and getting dogs and buying a house and doing really well at work so we could make a good life together. We would laugh about the fact that we actually hated babies and the concept of marriage and being tied to only one person and societal rules, but now that we were in love we wanted all that and more.

We wanted a big fat Indian wedding!

I came back to Bombay to get into Yoga School, and Aidy went on to study software. Wedding preparation were in full swing. Everything was booked – venues, tickets, jewelry, the clothes, the music, catering. We were all set to get married.

And then we broke up over one stupid fight.

Read Part 8: The Big Fat Indian... Breakup



Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are independent views solely of the author(s) expressed in their private capacity and do not in any way represent or reflect the views of

By Meetali Meshram 
Photographs by Meetali Meshram