I’ve mentioned this before: after someone is the Caucuses asks your name and age they ask if you are married. It’s a sign of the importance of marriage in society and likely also a sign they have a daughter, niece or friend that is near spinsterhood (approximately 25 years old). When I go through this directed questioning, I answer honestly: “Jason; 26; not married, but with a girlfriend.” Usually wonder comes over many of the older women who ask this battery of questions. “But Jason, 26 is almost 30 and you aren’t married? What are you waiting for?!” They are usually unwilling to hear that I have a girlfriend and that Americans view marriage differently and at this predictable impasse, the conversation usually ends.
Nowhere was this conversation more explicit than one day at work. At a coffee break with the office, I—the only male—was asked how my English classes were going. I said they seemed to be going well, which contrary to the last post I believe they had been. Then they asked about my “successes.” I told them that I thought my business entities lesson went particularly well. And before I could continue, a colleague interrupted me and dripping with innuendo asked again, “How are your successes?”
With five females giggling, I became increasingly uncomfortable and confused. My colleague continued, “There are a lot of young women in your class . . .” and like a frat boy keen on speaking in code, it became clear that she was using “success” in regards to me dating my students.
This linguistic lesson was paired with a back-story. Apparently ABA Armenia is the place where love blossoms. Like a dozen red roses or a college kegger, ABA Armenia has been the cause of love, marriage and impregnation.
“But I have a girlfriend,” I objected.
They continued.
Numerous employees of the ABA, Armenians and Americans, have found their romantic and personal lives seriously altered by their tenure here. Couples that went years in marriage without a child found themselves pregnant after beginning their employment at the ABA. A previous American director found love and a wife in the form of a student (the very situation the office ladies would like me to find). And on two separate occasions, the English course has acted as an aphrodisiac for young Armenian professionals learning legal English. ABA Armenia claims credit for at least three weddings.
The laughing did not stop. After elucidating all of these previous love stories, it was made clear that my lack of wedlock after a month at the ABA makes me the odd man out. They continued on about how the ABA is always “successful.” They said that because I’m “young, handsome and single”—again I correct them about the single thing—my English class is popular and predominantly attended by women.
For a variety of reasons I was uncomfortable at the prospect of being some kind of legal English sex object. I told them that wasn’t the case and that my classes were popular for other reasons than my higher than average cheekbones and my lower than necessary voice. Skeptical, one of the women asked, “Then why is your class so popular?”
“Free vodka,” I told them wanting to keep this conversation moving away from ABA “success” stories.
I continued to joke with the office administrator, asking if I could have my vodka budget comped by the ABA. She looked at me seriously and said, “That would be from the general budget and is a waste of money,” she crinkled her nose at the thought of vodka, “We’ll save it for an office picnic in the countryside.”
While this conversation happened awhile ago, this coming week is my last at the office and it looks like that picnic is going to happen. I do not know where we are going, what we are eating or heaven forbid what we’re drinking. However, I wont be surprised if this picnic is used as a last ditch effort to introduce me to the office’s eligible female family members.
After all of the work and cool projects I accomplished this summer, it looks like I’m slated to be ABA Armenia’s first “unsuccessful” American.
Nowhere was this conversation more explicit than one day at work. At a coffee break with the office, I—the only male—was asked how my English classes were going. I said they seemed to be going well, which contrary to the last post I believe they had been. Then they asked about my “successes.” I told them that I thought my business entities lesson went particularly well. And before I could continue, a colleague interrupted me and dripping with innuendo asked again, “How are your successes?”
With five females giggling, I became increasingly uncomfortable and confused. My colleague continued, “There are a lot of young women in your class . . .” and like a frat boy keen on speaking in code, it became clear that she was using “success” in regards to me dating my students.
This linguistic lesson was paired with a back-story. Apparently ABA Armenia is the place where love blossoms. Like a dozen red roses or a college kegger, ABA Armenia has been the cause of love, marriage and impregnation.
“But I have a girlfriend,” I objected.
They continued.
Numerous employees of the ABA, Armenians and Americans, have found their romantic and personal lives seriously altered by their tenure here. Couples that went years in marriage without a child found themselves pregnant after beginning their employment at the ABA. A previous American director found love and a wife in the form of a student (the very situation the office ladies would like me to find). And on two separate occasions, the English course has acted as an aphrodisiac for young Armenian professionals learning legal English. ABA Armenia claims credit for at least three weddings.
The laughing did not stop. After elucidating all of these previous love stories, it was made clear that my lack of wedlock after a month at the ABA makes me the odd man out. They continued on about how the ABA is always “successful.” They said that because I’m “young, handsome and single”—again I correct them about the single thing—my English class is popular and predominantly attended by women.
For a variety of reasons I was uncomfortable at the prospect of being some kind of legal English sex object. I told them that wasn’t the case and that my classes were popular for other reasons than my higher than average cheekbones and my lower than necessary voice. Skeptical, one of the women asked, “Then why is your class so popular?”
“Free vodka,” I told them wanting to keep this conversation moving away from ABA “success” stories.
I continued to joke with the office administrator, asking if I could have my vodka budget comped by the ABA. She looked at me seriously and said, “That would be from the general budget and is a waste of money,” she crinkled her nose at the thought of vodka, “We’ll save it for an office picnic in the countryside.”
While this conversation happened awhile ago, this coming week is my last at the office and it looks like that picnic is going to happen. I do not know where we are going, what we are eating or heaven forbid what we’re drinking. However, I wont be surprised if this picnic is used as a last ditch effort to introduce me to the office’s eligible female family members.
After all of the work and cool projects I accomplished this summer, it looks like I’m slated to be ABA Armenia’s first “unsuccessful” American.
