Dating in armenian

I could easily envision the home we could create, with kids running around, holding on to her apron strings. My conundrum began all the way back in second grade at a day school for my ethnic community.

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Girls gravitated to my wavy hair and easy smile, and on the last day of my junior year, I approached an Armenian-American classmate and asked her to lunch. And I so wanted to fall for her—her cute freckles gave me hope. I didn’t bring up my anxiety about the pressure to marry within our community.

My whole life, my father beseeched me to marry a woman of Armenian descent and have children to carry on our bloodline.

At 32, while working in a remote village in Armenia, I met the perfect potential fiancée—a woman who had everything my father wanted in a daughter-in-law.

The fate of our race lay in the hands of my classmates and me. Surely I could wed one of the pretty schoolgirls and have my own family like he did.

But later, as a 20-year-old in college, I was well aware of my attraction to men, even though I hated feeling that way.

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