Will I Ever Find True Love?

It's something I have always wondered since I was 13. No, I didn't develop early like Rachel Green of FRIENDS, the sitcom. But I had an elder sister who was about 17 then, and had a series of boys lining up to take her out. My sister got married at 21, to the love of her life! Yes, some people do have all the luck! I was insanely jealous because my brother-in-law is quite the catch!

And so in every boy I dated thence, I looked for Mr. Right. I went out on my first date at 15. It was my sister's friend. He was 2 years older than her, which means he was 21 then. I'd thought he was the bees knees. Yes, yes, I realise, he was probably too gross to get a girl his age; or he was just a creep who liked them young. Anyway, that lasted a few months and went into the pooper when he started dating a friend of mine, who was 13! Well, so we know that he WAS gross, and also a creep!

And thereafter there was no looking back in how many men let me down - The guy who wanted to marry me when I was 18, the guy who came in his pants just as we held hands (no pun intended), the guy who was obsessed with my best friend and went out with me to take revenge because she'd dumped him (rightly so, you might say), the guy who used the F word as punctuation, the guy who was addicted to (other) women wearing leather underwear...to name a few.

And these are some who liked me, but I thought of them as friends, so they went out of their way to screw my happiness - The one who never kissed (me) but did tell, the married man (a childhood friend) who said we should have sex because we didn't when we were 15 (don't ask me what that means!),the one who threatened to tell my then boyfriend that I slept with him (the "pal" guy), the one who'd cry if I said I was too sleepy to talk on the phone at 3 AM, the guy whom I met just once and who said he'll move cities for me and that he'd thought of me and masturbated, the one who promised to kill himself if I didn't sleep with him (and then broke his promise even though I didn't! No integrity, I tell you!), the guy who wrote letters with vermillion or sindoor to make me think it was blood...to name a few yet again.

And then there are some who I thought were my soul mates, yet unavailable to me - The guy who looked like Jim Morrison and drank like him too (married my friend, ended up in rehab, of course), the guy who taught film-making at NID and turned out to be gay, the guy who wrote poetry and strummed the guitar but never took a bath, the guy who had wonderfully long hair, BUT heard that it was indeed long everywhere (eww), the guy who had the best lips but never flushed the loo...to name, well, you know, a lot.. :D

And so when Roberto and I started having long-distance problems, I realised that I was better off being addicted to the internet. And slowly I found a friend in the internet. Whether it was companionship or gossip or information or simply trivia, it had everything I'd ever wanted in a man and yet never once let me down. I began to rely on it more and more for every little thing. And then, this was the last straw. I started using "The Magic 9 Ball" a so-called soothsaying online site, in hopes of knowing what my future holds for me. And this time, even the internet showed me my place!

Click here to enlarge the image below!



WILL I EVER FIND TRUE LOVE? HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

Anti-Climax in a Bookstore

Ahmedabad lacks two things. Good men, and good bookstores. They say that some women (like Joey and me, may be?) may even prefer a good book to a man. It's true. I'd rather re-read an old favourite than try out a blind date.

So there I was at Crosswords, the only thing that can pass off for a bookstore in Ahmedabad. I went to look for Orhan Pamuk's "My Name Is Red".

Anyway, so I did what I usually do. I plonked myself on the floor at the Indian Fiction section. And I stacked a whole lot of books that I wanted to check out. And by that I mean, reject with disdain.

I was having a quiet time. I was just beginning to enjoy myself tching tching about the downfall of Indian literature, when I saw HIM standing oh too close for comfort.

Nice cologne. First thought. Tick - No body odour. Thankfully. I swear I don't intentionally start ticking off a mental list, but it just happens. I am so much in search of "my kinda guy" that it's almost like breathing now, you know!

He picked up Amitav Ghosh's "The Glass Palace". Immediate thought. Tick - Likes the same books as me. Some people don't like this book, some people love it. I am one of those who read it repeatedly for relaxation, i.e. I worship it.

He knelt down to look at a few books in a lower shelf. I got a chance to see his shoes. Loafers. With socks. Green and pink. I was really surprised. I am constantly looked down upon by my friends for wearing socks that are bright and most often don't match my outfits. No I am serious. My friend MN, got me 32 pairs from Dubai last year. Pretty, different colours, with stars, ankle length. I will always remember her. As I will, this man with the green and pink socks. Tick - wears lovely socks. Tick, tick - wears PINK!

I found myself giving him a side-long glance. Hey, it's been like years since I did that. But come on, this man and I did have some karmic connection, no? I liked his clothes. Simple. Muted. Faded jeans. Frayed at several places. Gray sweatshirt. Looked worn out.

Rule 1 of dressing down - only 1 item of your clothing can be loud.
Rule 2 of dressing down? Sometimes socks will be the entire outfit.

This man had me eating out of his hand. But waittaminnit. He wasn't even looking at me. That's odd. But okay, some men just take longer than others, right? And then he sat down on the floor. Tick - not fussy about sitting on the floor. Ah, soul mates. He went through each book slowly. He even picked up my friend's book, "A Grasshopper's Pilgrimage". I am partial towards my friends' books. That made me feel fondly for him. Tick - Reads peppy books written by friends on spirituality. Then, he turned towards me, didn't smile immediately. Looked. For a exactly 3 seconds. And smiled. Head rush. Tick - pearly, eventoothed smile.

I smiled back. I think. Don't know. I was scared he would ask me for my number. I was scared he would speak and burst the fairytale. I was scared, I admit, of being let down. Again. So I did what I knew best. Went back to my books and viciously, yes, more viciously than usual, pulled them down, albeit in my head, muttered audibly and put them back into the shelves.

And each time I did that, this gorgeous, almost perfect creature would give me an understanding smile. Damn, he was cute. But I knew I had to walk away.

He didn't make any attempt to follow me. I sighed. He WAS looking at the books and didn't mean to hit on me. I hid behind the music section so that I could get a clear yet distant view of his moves. He browsed more books, I couldn't see what though. I consoled myself, "It's okay, he must be gay in any case. Too good to be true baby. Go home and cry over your complicated relationship."

So I stopped stalking the poor man. I browsed the music section for a bit and then went to the check out counter. I saw the demi-god ahead of me 2 lines away. And this time I got a clear view of the books he had. It was then that I knew. It WAS too good to be true! Far away from "my kinda man".

What was he carrying you ask? "Five Point Someone", "One Night At A Call Centre" and "Two States". Chetan Bhagat. Not one. Not two. But three.

I have dated men whose idea of reading was Playboy and Gentleman. And men who had archived and serialized years of copies of Autocar and Inside Outside. And men who read Business Today for pleasure. And men who preferred women's magazines. But this is where I draw the line.

I hugged my copy of "My Name Is Red" and walked out. Relieved. Happy. Free.

Disclaimer: I have nothing against Chetan Bhagat. I don't know him. But I don't appreciate his books. I have nothing against people who read his books, they just can't be my boyfriends.