Life and those not in it

At Jaipur this year I met this girl. It was brief and drunken but she seemed fun. And then she added me on Facebook and we began to chat and it got funner. And so we hung out a bit. Which became a lot. And then I realized that I had met the person missing in my life. Well one of them anyway heh. She's my age, and has my problems. This hit me like a bolt when she began to tell hilarious stories of her misadventures in love and lust, and I listened to her wisecrack about the boys and what they said and what they did and how ridiculous it all was and I could hear and see myself in her. I could hear the hope that cynicism was trying to douse; I could see the despair that strength was trying to banish. And it melted me. And I rejoiced that I would finally have a friend who was:
1. A girl
2. My age
3. Physically present in my life
and most importantly
4. Would always always ALWAYS get where I came from without my having to explain it because she too was single, didn't want to be and came with her baggage of body image and weight.

Here was someone who would instantly understand the history behind a statement, and never ever say to me with the best of intentions and all the love in the world 'I wish I had your life' 'You don't know how painful it is to be married' 'God I miss being single' 'Don't worry you have time' 'You have such a great job' and all the other kind, well-intentioned and infuriating things most of my friends and well-wishers who fit the criteria of 1,2 and 3 usually say to me.

Of course there is a complication, which is largely my own fault but more on that another time. The point here is to articulate what it is I find so immensely frustrating about talking to my peers about my life, and what's not in it.

I started rereading Venetia today, a favourite Heyer of many aficionados I know, but one that has never captured my imagination. But somehow it did this time. So I wrote to my only school friend, with whom I bonded over Heyer after all, and who LOVES this one, to tell her I was reading it and it made me wonder if I'd ever find my Damerel. And she, who has her own host of problems and trouble of course, wrote back to say that Damerels don't exist, and we women are raised to think we need men, but only she's beginning to think we don't need them--they just exist to make us stronger. And for some reason that straw broke the camel's back and I proceeded to rant all over the poor girl.

You see, I was raised to think that I didn't need men at all--only I discovered that I do. And I'm not talking about boinkaboinka. Then I struggled with guilt for years for daring to be so weak and pathetic, before coming to terms with what I wanted, and understanding that everyone wants different things. Sometimes what we want is because of what we've got and haven't got and sometimes we just don't get what we want, and sometimes we get what we want and it's painful and horrible and not nice at all, but there's no way of knowing how it will turn out for anyone. My sister and I often end up unable to say anything to each other because she is immensely frustrated with her career, but she has a house, a husband and an enchanting child I never get to see enough of, and I have a life where I don't have to come home exhausted after a frustrating day at work and deal with tantrums and not have the option of eating Maggi cos I can't be arsed to cook and instead have to think of a healthy nutritious meal that I can put together in the time I have with the ingredients I have.

Maybe if I'd gotten married at 23, or any of my married friends who tell me this had gotten married at 31, we'd all have entirely different perspectives. Maybe we'd be happy if we switched lives, because of the people we are and have become. Maybe our discontents are a result of what we want and don't have making us ignore what we do have, and maybe they are to do with the people we are and what we really want from life. We'll never know. But I do know that the loneliness and emptiness of my life is painful and horrific and often too much to contemplate without losing it. Thinking that I might never have children, that when my parents die all my family will be 15000 miles away, that at the end of the day my bed will always be empty and I, the most physically expressive person I know, will live a life with very superficial physical contact--these things are not about needing men. These are about things that come with the package of relationships. If I could be gay I would try. It's not about a man. And its not about friends because one by one their priorities change--and I can't blame them for it either. How can you make time to just waste with someone when you barely have time to sleep because you're dealing with work, in laws, kids? Just like I can't blame those guys I was ranting about for suddenly not having the time and headspace for me, because they rightly devote them to their new relationships. How can I demand you don't hurt me this way when you are not hurting me; it's happening passively? And how can I wish for you to stay alone like me when I know what comes with it? But how can I not be hurt by it once again not being me and by once again being released into wider community than the close knit circle we were?

It is an innately human impulse to seek companionship, to settle down as it were, and the older I get the harder it is to deal with what feels increasingly like my inability to do so. I don't know where it stems from--me, society, dumb luck--I don't know how I can know; all I know is that it IS and I have to deal with it. And its harder to deal with when I can't be around couples (as has happened to me now) or I can't talk to people about it without having to defend so many things. I end up spending all my time with other single people, who are four years or more younger than I am, and that comes with its own attendant stress.

It's not easy to deal with the things one has to deal with in a relationship. But it's not easy to deal with my life either, unless you genuinely want to be alone. Which I don't. And sometimes it hurts me and frustrates me deeply the way people dismiss this difficulty, when I am well aware of and consciously acknowledge the difficulties in their lives. And it also hurts me how I am so bitter, how I can no longer feel unadulterated joy for the happiness in other people's lives, how pictures of my super juniors' babies on Facebook make me want to smash the screen, when I am truly happy for them.

But mostly it hurts me how I am constantly haunted by my life and those not in it.

EDIT: This song seems to help in a stopgap way =) Ironically OA introduced me to it so it, also, carries mixed feelings. Which makes it very apposite for my life after all...

The Dating Desert

The other day (okay long ago), my boss began to discuss her cousin who is trying to get married. She said the girl was trying all the matrimonial websites, and really making an effort to meet people and so on, and it was really quite difficult for her. This girl is 26, btw. She's also smart and pretty, though dark-skinned, which is as much a cross to bear in the arranged market as my weight and age are. Anyway, the conversation led to dating and men and suchlike things, and then my boss said, 'All my guy friends my age are single. (She's 36) Oh, no wait, X just started seeing someone and Y is coming out of his divorce...' and so on. And it hit me! There's a window!

For urban Indian women today, you meet guys in college, and then when you start working. Lots of us meet them in B-school, or whatever postgraduate things we do. You meet them by the time you're about 25 or so and then you get married by the time you're about 28 or so. The interesting thing here is that, if you haven't met a guy by the time you're 28 or so, you suddenly realize that all the fun guys, all the guys you went to school and college with, all the guys you'd like to date are already long-term dating/engaged/married. This is not to say that there aren't single guys in your age group--it's just that they're all single for a reason. Usually one of the following:

1. Commitment phobe
2. Brutally dumped by someone and therefore has trust issues
3. Hopelessly in love with someone who is married
4. Deep issues, like The Architect, who needed a shrink and maybe even medication (this does not mean that someone with a mental illness is not dateable, it just means they need to be taking treatment!)
5. All-round player: oo look new shiiiinnnnyyyyy!

So then you are left with no choice but to date younger guys, except, if you, like me, are looking to settle down etc, the younger guy is at least the age difference plus two years behind you on that track. So then what? Then you wait, and once you're thirty-five, all the divorced guys start to appear.

I looked back at my life and thought about this, and I realized this is rather true. At 27, when I'd found my first relationship, I was so sure that I could hold out for more. But in the two years since my break-up, I'm beginning to see that the possibilities I had 27 no longer exist. I did not see this at that age, and perhaps i went about rejecting guys on the basis of things that I now think of as eminently adjustable to. My boss, when we had this conversation last year, told me how sh had also not really met a dateable guy in ages, and now, she's 36, she has. Not that that's evidence per se, but yeah. I now go around earnestly imploring all the young people I know to be very sure they're breaking up because they really don't think it'll work, not cos of some rather solveable problem. Or at least to prepare to cross the dating desert and hope they'll make it to the other side optimism and faith in humanity intact.

"Self-sufficient"

(Wheee two months!)

I was deep in serious conversation with the Object of Affections the other day and he said something that precipitated an epiphany around a subject The Bride and I have been debating for a very long time. 'I've always thought I'm pretty self-sufficient,' he said, 'but I have realized I'm really lonely.' And then it all came to me in a big whump--what the fuck does that even mean?

When someone says they're self sufficient, or they "don't NEED anybody" (as Lithium is very fond of saying whenever I am feeling particularly insecure of my place in his life), what exactly do they mean? I've poked and prodded and probed and usually it seems to come down to 'I won't make myself vulnerable to anyone'. On the face of it, that's a pretty worthy ambition to have. If you're not vulnerable, then you can't be devastated by someone (which is usually what's happened to make people wary of letting it happen again). This makes eminent sense. Only, it is also fairly impossible.

Think about it. What does it mean to be completely emotionally independent? Does it mean that you never call anyone when you're having a bad day? A good day? A bleh day? Does it mean you never think of any person when you need comfort? Does it mean you never show your emotions to another person? And, most importantly, in the case of people who say they have always been like this, does it mean you never have done any of these things?

For most of us, we have some sort of bond with our families. Maybe only one parent, maybe a sibling.We had at some point, a best friend, a gang of brats we played gully cricket with. A cousin who visited one summer and we spent hours talking to. A first love. A latest love. Homo sapiens is a social species. That's how it is defined; that's how it evolved and that's WHY it evolved. So why must we constantly try and deny this? There are some people who have has horrific lives of abuse and loss and they cannot say they had these things, and we tend to see that as tragic. Then why do we act like this is something we actively want to encourage, like it's a state of being that should be worked towards?

Because we're terrified. Heck I'm terrified. I live in a constant state of low-grade terror--that occasionally spikes up to high grade terror--because of the number of people I am vulnerable to. But somewhere along the way I realized the vulnerability is the flip side of love. In some ways the definition of loving someone IS giving them the capacity to hurt you. And they usually do, but that doesn't mean they don't love you, or even that they meant to. Sometimes, as happened with Boytoy recently, when he decided he's ready to find a real girlfriend and move out of our fake relationship, it's entirely incidental and even you know it. And you know, all the naysayers who told me this was a mistake because he was going to move on and I'd be hurt will be nodding right now, only if I hadn't let this happen I would never have had all the love he does give me still.

But I digress (as always heh). So what happens is there is a whole generation of people who hold their "self-sufficiency" high like a flag and drown alone in their loneliness, because they cannot even admit to themselves that they ARE lonely, let alone begin to do something to make life better. And that's what I told OA. How can it be strange for a thirty-year old, like me, to feel the pull of companionship? In my case, I would really love to make a plan that doesn't have to come with an inbuilt potential date of termination. In my case, when I'm plummeting to the depth of the pit where my demons live, how can I not want a hand to hold, a warm body breathing steadily next to me, or even in the next room? How can we persist in believing that this is abnormal and weak? There is no shame in needing companionship, in seeking a partner, in "settling" because you don't want to be alone. We are not programmed to be alone--we're just telling ourselves that because we're scared.

As for the the other ways to look at self-sfficicency, The Bride has done an excellent job of summarizing our views.

Weverb12 #23 communicate [LISTEN]

Describe a conversation that you had this year. Why was it memorable?

I'm sure I have had many conversations this year that were interesting, engaging and possibly even life or thought altering. And of course, most of them were with The Bride, as she says here (shameless me plug hee). Some were with Chocolate Boy, who has turned out to have been possibly Big Mistake of 2012, because of sigh him not talking to me anymore for no reason I can fathom. Several were with Amma, some with Scoo, and plenty with a random selection of people across the board. But if i were to look back and think of a conversation that I can point to and say this, yes this very conversation changed my life dramatically, it would have to be the one I had with OW, The Bride and S.

S is a friend from the days at Toilet, except he wasn't really a friend. He worked in the same team as I did, our tiny group of ten, and we had a ton of friends in common. But--he later explained this to me--he doesn't socialize with people in his team, so always remained slightly douchebaggy and distant. I ignored him. Then one day in 2010, I ran into him in a bar in CP completely unexpectedly and we made polite conversation. He disappeared again. Then, one day in July I saw something on his Facebook about living in Delhi and asked if he was here. Very enthuly he replied and said let's get a drink, which we did, since 1. I can't say no, 2. I was DESPERATE for friends and 3. Any excuse to drink.

Our hour-long quick drink became three hours and five drinks and so began a lovely friendship involving alcohol and hilarity. The thing I liked most about S was that fact that he had that trait I call Hyderabadi, where anything goes. You want to hang out and I'm having dinner with a friend? Come! That super openminded welcoming attitude doesn't exist in Delhi, and I really appreciated having the security of convivial company when I needed it. He was relaxed and tolerant, and would happily talk about anything, and felt no need to talk exclusively about what interested him, which again is super rare.

Then The Bride came to visit and I drummed up drinking company--after all the girl hadn't had a nice desi out drinking with friends in dive bar scene for so long hee. OW and S both came, and OW displayed some startlingly adolescent behaviour--which should have warned me, but sigh I must always believe the best of people. And we ended up, OW, The Bride, S and I, in my house till 3am, having a long ideological discussion on gender and and identity politics. And throughout that conversation I would find myself opening my mouth to say something, only S would say it instead. Or I would say something and he'd nod frantically and say 'EXACTLY!' And I discovered over the course of that conversation that this man (yes, man, not boy) is a revelation. He is actually everything I would want in a partner--not because we agree, but because we seem to approach things the same way, with the same mindset and attitude; because we both believe in live and let live, and persuasion, not yelling. I cringe as I say this, but he was kinda like the male version of The Bride.

Starting that conversation, I began to see all these sides to him I never knew existed and (you know where this is going...) today he is a very dear friend, and of course the object of my affections. And well, the object of HIS affections is his girlfriend of ten years. Yay MinCat, I sure know how to pick em. Though I should be glad this one is wrong only because of said girlfriend--nothing to do with who he is, which is usually the problem!

Weverb12 #10 lose [HOPE]

Did you have to say goodbye to a person, or even a cherished object, this year? Take a moment to celebrate the memory.

This year I have not lost anyone to death, thankfully. Last year I lost one of my best friends to what I don't know, but that pain is still here to stab me once in a while. I haven't lost any cherished objects either, so I guess it hasn't been that bad a day eh? I did lose another friend though, once again inexplicably.

He wasn't someone I'd known for a long time. He swept into my life off the internet, and he was just the right person I needed to meet then. I could say ANYTHING to him, and we talked about the strangest stuff. HE opened my eyes to many things, and was definitely instrumental in my coming to terms with myself and understanding several things about myself. He also introduced me to MW, and though he himself is remote and essentially robotic, did make an effort to understand my need to emotionally respond to things.

We had a vacancy and he was perfect, so I coaxed him into applying for the job. They loved him; he got it; and now he's in love with it. It was SO AWESOME in the beginning, having him here. He moved into Delhi from Gurgaon--interestingly I found him his house indirectly, and then he asked me to help him set it up and teach him to cook. We spent a month where I was in his house almost every alternate day. And how we talked.

I was in the middle of the dip of my double-dip depression, and though it made no sense to him, he took a lot of trouble to try and understand it. (He was prone to saying annoying stuff like, but you have no REASON to be sad! Snap out of it! Be happy! But everyone does that.) There was a car ride after a day spent at MW's, when I'd been super quiet and they'd put up little bits to cheer me up and coax me out of it, but it didn't work and suddenly on the way back the tears came. I drove most of the way back from Gurgaon with tears running down my face. And when we got to his place, he turned around, reached over and wiped them off my cheek, saying 'Don't cry. Please.' It was the sweetest thing he'd ever done, and generally pretty sweet for a robotic boys, or even boys in general. Yes, he was a dear friend.

And then I went to Colombia. He was one of two friends who tried to call and say happy birthday, but didn't get through. But we emailed. And then I came back, and things were different. They have only gone downhill since. I tried to ask him if something had happened to make him withdraw so dramatically, if everything was okay, but he only evaded my attempts. And then I decided that it was time to give up—I couldn’t keep being the doormat being all friendly with someone who was making it more than clear they didn’t see me as a friend anymore. But, like the Dragon, I have no idea why. I’m sure I’ll get over it, but that will always nag me.

Things that go bump in the dark

There is, in my life at the moment, a boy who we shall call Boytoy, partly because he could fit that definition, but mostly cos it'll piss him off when he sees it. Boytoy is, as the name implies, younger than me, and he is also, as the name implies, sleeping with me. Things being how they are, I am, at the moment, one of his harem, while he is all of mine. The reason he is not merely a boytoy is because the role he plays is more like that of friend, cuddler, midnight-panic-callee, things-around-the-house-fixer, driver-of-mother-to-the-airport and general all-round knight in shining armour. I also sometimes call him my fake boyfriend, because he kind of fulfils the role but actually is not. This is all a bit too line-blurry, but I am ignoring that because hey, if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

The reactions to his presence in my life have been varied. Some people say yay good for you. Some people say no! You're blocking out the possibility of a real boyfriend! Some people say you're going to get horribly hurt because you're going to fall for him (he was in this camp at the beginning). Honestly, I don't know. To the first I say thank you, to the second, but at least I have something--I'm tired of having nothing, and to the third, well no one ever escaped emotional pain by planning to avoid it now did they?

The funny thing is, while I DO love him very much, and I can't imagine my life without him, I also know that I will never want to be with him. We are fundamentally very different in ways that would destroy a relationship, but don't matter here. Which makes him a safe bet in many ways. Now, I know and understand all of this, but, of course, the rational-emotional disconnect means that I do sometimes get hurt, even though the hurt seems to be more my reacting to him than him doing anything, except on one memorable occasion. 

The other day I was thinking about why, whenever he talks to me about one of the other women in his life, especially when he says things like I want to date her, my instant reaction is one of extreme hurt and dismay, and all I can think is, but why won't you date ME? I don't want to date him, but I need him to want to date me? That's not fair. But why does it happen? I can't possibly be such a dog in the manger. 

The first explanation that came up in my head was that his not wanting to date me is simply a confirmation that I'm not good enough, which is of course the deep root of all my issues--I'm not good enough for ANYONE to want to be with me. And it's true, it does feed that particular monster, because, clearly, knowing me and being attracted to me and enjoying my company and all that still doesn't add up to wanting to be with me. But then it struck me--it doesn't add up for me either. I mean, I know him, I love his company  we're clearly compatible, and I still don't want to be with him. There must BE an X-factor. What is it? I'm damned if I know! All I know is I've only ever come close to getting it once in my life, and maybe I threw it away. Maybe I did something great for both of us--only time will tell.

Then, today, it occurred to me that, as my life is right now, I don't really have the resources to 'put myself out there' (and by resources I don't mean money in case anyone was wondering). I simply don't have the energy or optimism left to meet new people and believe in them, to nurture new relationships and maybe someday have someone else I can call with a midnight panic attack, or lie in bed and cuddle on a Sunday afternoon. I don't even have the slightest inclination to go find hookups--I want to stay right here in my cocoon thank you very much. And on some fundamental level I have given up on the couples life, on the whole let us build a life together. I've built a life on my own and it's actually pretty fucking amazing. It's not the life I wanted for myself, but it has fabulous things that the life I wanted would never have had. But it also means that I can't be irrevocably sure that I will have certain things that are small but contribute hugely to my own wellbeing. And at this point, I get them from Boytoy. And if he then embarks on a real relationship, all his protestations that things won't change aside, I will have to learn to live without them again. 

And that is something that just makes me gibber.

In which I thought of an awesome title but forgot it

EDIT: this was begun some days ago, so the timelines might get wonky halfway through.

Yesterday, when I was having the perfect Sunday evening involving me and a friend curled up on the couch watching a movie with G-Jams stalking about and then finding a spot where he could be in contact with both of us to settle down and watch for a bit before falling asleep, I had a click moment--which is how I define the moment when you actually realize something you've been building up to for a while. The while here was about a year, and the what was, of course, boys and girls and relationships and expectations.

So, in Up in the Air, which is the movie we were watching, there is a point where Natalie (Anna Kendrick, the young woman) has just been dumped by text message. She and Alex (delectable Vera Farmiga) talk about men and what they want from the men they hope to date. Gods bless teh interwebs cos I googled and the whole transcript turned up!

Natalie: I thought I'd be engaged by now. I thought by 23, I'd be married, maybe have a kid, corner office by day, entertaining at night. I was supposed to be driving a Grand Cherokee by now.  

Alex: Well, life can underwhelm you that way.  

Natalie: Where did you think you'd be by now?  

Alex: It doesn't work that way. At a certain point, you stop with the deadlines. It can be a little counter-productive.  

Natalie: I don't want to say anything that is anti-feminist. I really appreciate everything that your generation did for me.  

Alex: It was our pleasure.  

Natalie: Sometimes it feels like, no matter how much success I have, it's not gonna matter until I find the right guy. I could have made it work. He really fit the bill, you know. White collar, 6'1, college grad, loves dogs, likes funny movies, brown hair, kind eyes, works in finance but is outdoorsy. I always imagined he'd have a single syllable name like Matt or John or Dave. In a perfect world, he drives a 4-Runner and the only thing he loves more than me is his golden lab. And a nice smile. What about you?  

Alex: You know, honestly by the time you're 34, all the physical requirements just go out the window. You secretly pray that he'll be taller than you, not an asshole would be nice. Just someone who enjoys my company, comes from a good family. You don't think about that when you're younger. Someone who wants kids. Healthy enough to play with his kids. Please let him earn more money than I do, you might not understand that now but believe me, you will one day. Otherwise that's a recipe for disaster. And hopefully, some hair on his head. I mean, that's not even a deal breaker these days. A nice smile. Yeah, a nice smile just might do it.  

Natalie: Wow. That was depressing.I should just start dating women  

Alex: Tried it.We're no picnic either

So apart from the all kinds of awesome of delivery and deadpan wisecracks, I found myself nodding frantically at everything Alex said. "You secretly hope that he'll be taller than you, not an asshole would be nice." "Healthy enough to play with his kids." "Please let him earn more money than I do." (This is not really an issue for me with my income!)

Of course this made me think back to all the man ideas I have built in my life. I remember in high school a then dear friend and I made lists, involving 6 feet tall and green eyes that we then exchanged and promised to show up at each other's weddings to check off the checklist. Then one went off to college and whatnot and realized one was falling in love with bizarre boys, like OOF, who were most nondescript on paper and had nothing to do with the men one dreamed of. So I recalibrated. I went for things like, has to get how my brain works in this weird way--ref the monkey ballet, which I never finished sorry. Reads books, likes the same music, is, you know, 'cool'. Well time passed and that went out the window. BSW was balding, the next guy barely spoke English and was hardly cultured, though a lovely man--but in his case I wasn't in love with him so maybe he doesn't count. All sorts and shapes and sized came and went in my life.

Then we came to BBot. He GOT me. Like I GOT him. Like no one ever had for either of us--though in my case my family did GET me like that. He was not 'hot', but I had never been worried about that--the first things to go from the list were indeed 6ft tall and green eyes =D But that brain. So intelligent. SO. FUCKING. INTELLIGENT. I was in love with his brain. Everything about him gave my brain a hard-on. And he was funny. So funny. All the time with him was great. But you know, emotionally, it didn't work. We didn't communicate the same way; our insecurities fed off each other. He didn't need me enough.

Then there was the Architect. Who needed me so much I distinctly remember at one point thinking OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD GET IT OFF MY ARM and having to resist the urge to flail the arm he was clinging to to dislodge him. So then I recalibrated again. Intelligent and curious, I said. Someone who isn't intimidated by my brain and could also handle how social I am.

And now, I'll settle for someone who's interested.

I find myself giving my friends and cousins aged 24-28 advice that goes like this: Take a long hard look at him and make up your mind because now is the time it can happen. You won't meet the perfect guy. Some people might, but they're exceptions. And if you are so set on the perfect match, goals, tastes, families, expectations, etc--you might find yourself waiting forever. So prepare for that. Otherwise one morning you'll wake up like me, thirty and with a vast desert of no-hopers your only way forward.

Could I be flakier?

I shan't even claim to promise to try and be good about posting, not even to myself. It's embarrassing now.

MinCat now has her very own Kitteh! His name is G-Jams, short for Greebo Jameson, since I am, after all, Nanny Ogg, and I do, most certainly, love Jamesons. He is nearly 8 weeks old, and quite the firecracker! I think he's going to be a vocal cat. *bangs head on desk* He's incredibly loud for something as tiny as he is, and like to express his love by leaping upon exposed flesh, canines and claws at the ready. *wince* But he purrs a lot, and is warm and soft and fuzzy and he loves me. And I love him.

In other news, I went shoe shopping for the first time since April 2011, when I went to DSW in Union Square to buy a pair of boots. I've been hearing about how Shahpur Jat is awesome and all so I finally dragged my lazy ass there and bought a lovely pair of comfortable wedge heels. And then promptly wore them to concert last night, where I was official photographer for band frontlined by my beloved Flamenca (flamenco-singing Spanish friend), and in a moment of excitement re-entering the restaurant from the balcony, didn't see a tiny step and promptly fell over and sprained my ankle. Sigh. Lithium, who was present with a harem in tow, was most solicitous and, when I stood up and apologized to the woman whose hair I'd pulled in a desperate attempt to hold onto something, muttering, 'I didn't see that damn step', he proceeded to walk me down the stairs to the stage chanting step, step, step at every step. Smartypants. *mutters darkly*

When Flamenca and I were chattering away eagerly as we returned from the shops, a bald guy in hipster glasses who was blowing his nose uttered an emphatic 'Españolas!' to us, and we, two ridiculously gregarious people (Flamenca having just befriended someone who works across from me in the three minutes it took me to come down the stairs), were so lost in our conversation that we chorused 'sí' and returned to dissecting the character of whatever unfortunate soul was the subject of our conversation. A twinge of guilt made me look back and I saw him standing there, in a sea of motley traffic, his forlorn eyes framed by his hipster glasses, still blowing his nose.

The thing is, I am always collecting people. In fact, the Bride, when she was here last week with the express purpose of making it the best week of 2012, told me that that's what I do--collect people. By which she said she means that wherever I go, I manage to find interesting people. I think her visit came at a time of planetary alignment, because when I look back at the last two years I cannot believe I have good friends in Delhi. But then, I realized I do. And I also realize that putting people together is what I love.

Disco Dancer used to protest feebly, especially since he espouses the silo method of friend having--each group is each group and they CAN NEVER MIX OR THE WORLD WILL END--but I have always thrown motley collections of people together and ignored them while they sorted themselves out. And they usually do. Being hypergregarious I also know lots of people and a little bit about each of them--enough to say oh you both studied physics! or oh you both go hiking! or oh you both hate football! Which is really all one needs to start things. The cramp in my style this past year has been CB and MW and their ridiculously judgemental reactions to people. Whatever happens in the first five minutes will set the tone for ever. I'm always trying to explain that they lose out on really amazing people by refusing to consider revising first opinions--forget about revising, they will refuse to even meet someone who hasn't made a favourable first impression. And since they were my main friends and I was snivelling pathetic mess, I lived in terror of not having them around, and thus tamped down on that side of me. Then again, it's very easy to blame someone--I was depressed and lonely, so maybe that's all it was. Either way, I now have G-Jams!

The other things that make me giggle when I think of last night were the following. Flamenca has an Indian Spanish-speaking tour guide friend who is from Jaipur and dark and rajputly handsome. Like really my kinda hot, though I'm not entirely convinced by the gold earrings. Anyway, we have met once and he was apparently struck by me, and has been asking for a re-meeting. So he was there last night, and his eyes lit up when he saw me, and once they noticed the cut of my dress he began to address my chest. Lol. To his credit, it is an arresting sight when on display, and he managed to regain control in ten minutes or so. But then he began to hit on me. Which is nice, only why can't desi boys be subtle? He stroked my arm and said, 'Your skin is so soft.' I simply did not know what to say. What CAN you say to that? I made a joke about sweating so much and ran away.

Flamenca also has a Spanish friend, whom we shall call Spanish Builder, who she set me up with a couple of weeks ago. It certainly went well, only he never replied to my text saying I got home, and didn't call me when back from business trip as promised. He was also there last night, and after the concert was done we were standing about chatting and I asked him about his trip, and he said yeah it was all right. And then he said, I got your message but I was half drunk, half hungover and trying to get my flight and it was all so confused...I'm sorry I didn't reply. I laughed and said, no it's fine. (This is where I should have said that's all very well but why didn't you call EH?) And then he said, 'But I had such a lovely time.' Again, something very sweet--but what am I supposed to say to it? Two weeks later? If you had such a lovely time, pick up the phone and call me and we can do it again! It didn't help that Lithium was trying to be wingman and winking broadly and giving me a thumbs up from across the bar. *eyeroll*

Don't Buy the Cow if You Ain't Tried the Milk

So I was having a chat with a another friend int he same boat as me: over thirty, single and giving up hope of meeting a single over-thirty guy who isn't single for a good reason.* She has found one, and of course he has his issues--wildly insecure etc, etc. They've been dating two months, and she tells me, woefully, that the sex is not...er...stellar. And you know what I thought? I though to myself, hooo boy, there's the best reason ever to not be coy and 'wait for the xth date'.

Seriosuly.
I get a lot of flak for my whole go-with-the-flow approach to sex and dating--if I had a dollar for every time someone has sternly told me 'MinCat, if you want to make this work, you have to NOT SLEEP WITH HIM. TILL THE 5TH DATE!' (Or whateverth date.) I'd have enough money to visit the Light of my Life every year. Apparently, if you sleep with a guy fast, he doesn't respect you. He is no longer interested in getting to know you. You won't have a chance to get him to emotionally bond with you before you give him what is, of course, his ultimate goal, and then he'll leave cos he has it. Or he won't value this precious gift you've given him.

Tosh.
No, really.
All this might hold true for when you're twenty-five, or sleeping with a twenty-five-year-old, but really, I've found they have very little bearing on things at the point I'm at.

For starters, I have, by this time, had enough sex to know I like it, it's important, and it's highly unlikely I'll be happy in a relationship that involves mediocre sex. This might have something to do with having been single so long and in the market, playing that field etc, etc, but whatever the cause, it is a fact. Yes I will dump someone if the sex is bad. So I'd much rather know right off, instead of waiting till *I* am emotionally bonded with the guy and won't be able to walk away.

Second, since sex is so much fun, if you go one one date with someone boring, you can still get away from the experience with some good sex under your belt, as it were. And, believe me, when you get to where I am, you go on a lot of first dates with boring guys. And since you don't have a nice steady partner squirelled away, it's nice to get laid once in a while.

Third, if this guy is a child enough to think that all you're good for is sex, how exactly is withholding it going to do anything more reinforce a really stupid power equation? Because yes, I do think that using sex to manipulate someone, or as a weapon, is a terrible thing. It's one thing to not be able to engage with a partner sexually because you have problems, but to actually say yes I'd like to but I won't until you do what I want is really fucked up. (har har, see what I did there?)

Fourth, sex is not some precious gift that I will only bestow on the knight who deserves it. That's rubbish. Are you telling me that women don't enjoy sex? That we only do it cos men like it and that's how we hold them in thrall? All I gotta say is, honey, if that's your life, go find some other man to sleep with--you've got a lemon. Women can, do and should enjoy sex. There's absolutely nothing wrong with being like that, and there is nothing wrong with having sex with a guy because you enjoy it and you want to, right now, even though it's only the second date.

Fifth, men are not sex-craving automatons! Plenty of men want relationships--okay, maybe not at thirty, but then those guys often want friendship with sex on the side, cuddling, dinner, etc. Men also want women in their lives they can have sex with but can also go have dinner with. It's complete bullshit to stick them in that hole where all they want is sex. Of course, there are guys who do disrespect a woman for putting out, or really do only want one thing, but look at it this way, at least you're not emotionally invested when he walks away! (See #1 above.) Would you want to be with that kind of guy in the first place? Take the sex and leave!

All this aside, I do really think that we seem obsessed with playing this dating game by some severely twisted rules. We spend hours pretending to feel what we don't, and then are upset when people don't get how we really feel. We put tons of effort into going after what we don't want, because it's not kosher to want what we want. There's so much shit going on and it simply complicates life so much that it can so easily ruin one of the best things life has to offer--sex! So, yeah, Don't tie yourself into knots about the number of hours you have spent in socially-dictated acceptable situation with someone. If you want to jump him, jump him. Just use condoms.

*Really, they all are. Some have been screwed over by some girl and can't get past it. Some have mommy issues. Some don't want commitment. Some are just strange. Some are super picky. None of these is good or bad, they just are. 

EDIT
On Dan Savage this morning:
Yes, Dan, thereare still plenty of straight guys out there who are put off by women who go "too fast," and oral sex on the first date is typically perceived as too fast. It's part of a misogynist mind-set, IMHO, that says women who are too sexually assertive are not "relationship material." Or maybe it's some ancient male fear of the insatiable nympho who will drain his male power by overwhelming him sexually. Or, more generously, maybe these men think going too fast just speaks to poor judgment (although straight men rarely apply that logic to themselves). Whatever the cause, I've experienced it myself, and I found the solution to be to date more sex-positive feminist men who take responsibility for their half of the pacing. I've found that feminist men actually appreciate women who are sexually assertive, while many non-feminist men are happy to accept the attentions of sexually assertive women while at the same time harboring contempt for us.

The Rational-Emotional Disconnect

You know how sometimes someone does something that hurts you (like a friend who you haven't seen in a month comes to your birthday party and then wants to leave soon after, and isn't particularly nice to you, and then calls you about making a plan to do something nice for someone else's birthday) but then you know, rationally, that it's not a big deal (being nice is not their thing, it's not actually your birthday, and said person has warned you several time that they are thoughtless, and you know they are in a tantrum mood and therefore what to expect from them). At this point, you are upset. But you also know that saying something will get you branded as irrational.

Then there's this scenario, where someone does something that irritates or annoys you intensely (your parents are stressing out about someone you're seeing), and while you know they mean it for the best (you have had a series of bad relationships, said person is insolvent or from a vastly different background). Again, you are upset, and again you know that people will keep throwing logic at you.

I was thinking about this once, well okay I was thinking about how often I am upset but I can't get past it because I can't do or say anything because I am a rational person, an 'adult' and I like to think I can and do behave in a rational manner. This often leaves me feeling very frustrated. So, when Dragon picked BBot, I had this whole thing where I was choking in misery, and when I was talking to Disco Dancer about it he really upset me because he insisted on saying, well, she is an adult, she made a choice, you can't dictate how long it takes someone to attach to someone, or blame them for who they choose. Which were all very valid points, point, moreover, that I kept making to myself. Then why did it make me cry?

It occurred to me that everyone operates on two parallel levels--the rational level and the emotional level. As we get older we tend to start privielging the rational level over the emotional one (to wit, you can't stamp your foot and demand that you be important to someone--you are or you're not. But it still hurts like the BLAZES.). So then we discard, nay ignore, the emotional response, because the rational one is the one that will give us the right behaviour in the end.

The problem is, there has to be a balance, and unless the rational and emotional level are both acknowledged and dealt with, you can't really get past the hurt completely--you become harder, cynical, whatever. And, while it is true that most of the time the rational level is right, this does not mean that the emotional response doesn't exist. (We tend to flagellate ourselves for even having an emotional response usually.) So when you're dating, and a person behaves a certain way, you beat yourself up saying, see? You KNEW they'be a jerk. Then why did you have to be stupid and get attached? Now deal with this shit and move on.

I call this the Rational Emotional Disconnect, and it is the single most debilitating problem I have with all the things I do in my life. Until I can align the two levels and their responses I find that I simply can't get past things that happen to me.

For the longest time I thought the RED was only one way--you have an emotional response and you suppress it. But then it struck me, that often, once you're in a relationship with someone, you start to privilege the emotional over the rational. If you love me you should know better. You know, some days it's not that your partner doesn't love you, it's that they're having a shitty day, or they're tired, or stressed, or you didn't communicate your upsetness. So the rational response has to be heard too before anything can be done.

I've started to try and do this thing now where, when I'm upset, I sit down and think it all through, all the emotional stuff and the rational stuff. I say it to myself, or to a friend (read, The Bride), and then, once I've exorcised the reaction as it were, I can stand back and figure out which was what response and which one is the better one to use in this situation. And let's not assume the rational one is always best--sometimes an emotional response is what the other person needs from you--but then we all train ourselves to deny emotional responses so much that we can't bring them out, which then makes the other person feel bad and suppress theirs and the endless cycle of people are so cold begins.

Like Lau Love

So, while discussing Mr Darcy*, MinCat's latest I-think-I'm-in-love-with-him, with The Bride, I came up with this theory of love. It all began when I went to an event involving a friend I have had one very unexpected and positively delightful drunken encounter with--an encounter never referred to again, which is a bit sad.

Now, despite the strong feelings I have for Mr Darcy, I am never quite sure what they are. Sometimes I look at him and it reduces me to that post. Sometimes I want to smack him. Sometimes I think that he is so different from me, it could never work, and yet this is exactly what I love about him--we are complementary. Sometimes I think it is not that I want him, but I want to be the kind of girl that a guy like him wants. The only thing I know about him is that he makes absolutely no sense to me: I can never tell if he's serious or not, if he means what he's saying or is messing with me, and this drives me nuts--making me sometimes want him and sometimes hate him. Is it the mystery that I want to solve, not the guy I want to be with? Etc.

In all the conversations I have with The Bride on the subject of Mr Darcy, I refer to my feelings for him as the lau feelings, right from when I first realised I was in denial of said feelings. (They are the bane of my life at the moment.) Anyway, cut to said event, where I found myself finding excuses to fondly and adoringly pat that friend, and stand close to him, and sniff him. All the body language of flirting was present and accounted for. And I found that I was feeling decidedly more warm and dewy eyed than I ever do around Mr Darcy. Which made me think that I can't possibly be in love with Mr Darcy then, because when I'm in love, I don't get warm melty pit of the stomach feelings for other guys.

I proudly announced this to The Bride this morning, saying that it can't be love, it must be lau, and she promptly asked me if there was a difference between lau and love anyway? And that's when I realised that I have a beautifully graded and (then) badly articulated theory of liking and love. It goes like this: (take me by the tongue and I'll know you...er...sorry.)

It all begins with like. (This works for any relationship by the way; it's my overall theory of love.) You meet someone, and you find a spark. Something about them. Sometimes it's mental chemistry, sometimes it's physical, sometimes it's a joke, or a shared interest, sometimes it's boredom--there is something. You explore it and you are surprised and happy because there is a spark. You meet again/spend more time together, and you realise it's more than a spark; it's a connection. Yay! The more time you spend together, the more connected you feel. Super! You find out things about them you like, and things you don't. As time goes by, you like them more and more, and the things you don't like fade away--they're totally worth tolerating because they come with the good stuff.

That's when you reach the extrapolation point. This is the point at which you realise that things are so awesome. You start to think, wow this is like fifty percent of this person and it's such a great connection! What would it be like if it were seventy percent? Or eighty? Or even a hundred? Then you begin to extrapolate what this person is like, what you and this person together would be like, how your relationship might be. You are now officially at the lau stage. This is where you introduce the friend as soul sibling, cosmically connected, most amazing person you know, brother from another mother, etc. This is where you think, I'm falling for this person. This could actually be it. This could be the person it all works with!

Time passes. You get to know them more. You find out more and more and like what you find out less and less. The joy of the connection starts the wear off and the annoying things come back to niggle. And then you reach the tipping point. One of several things happens:
1. You realise that the person, or the relationship, doesn't match the extrapolation, and you don't like it. So it doesn't turn into love, and fades back to like.
2. You realise the person matches the extrapolation, but your projection of what you wanted was not right, and you don't want this, so it fades back to like.
3. You realise the annoying things annoy you way more than the liking, and it changes to dislike or indifference.
4. You realise that the extrapolation doesn't match, but you like what you're getting anyway and it turns into love.
5. You realise that the extrapolation does match, and it turns into love.

 So the difference is essentially that lau is more like infatuation, and can turn into love, but not always. And once it has turned into love, it can turn back into like or even move to dislike. However, I think three things are important here:
1. The longer you are in love, the harder it is for it to switch without a catastrophic changing event (kinda like the law of conservation of momentum). Eventually you reach a place where it doesn't matter what turns up, you love the person. The kind of love can change. With BBot, for example, it went from sexual-romantic love to platonic love, but I still love him deeply.
2. The speed of conversion is often proportional to the time knowing each other, but, especially in the like to lau to love part, the time doesn't necessarily have any bearing of how fast the conversion occurs.
3. (This one is especially for me) Until you accept you love someone, it remains lau. So, until I consciously accept I love someone, it can't be love as love should be, and will not be able to give me all I want from love. Even if I really love Mr Darcy, at this point it won't have the positive effects that love would normally have on me, because I am unwilling or unable to accept it and embrace it consciously.

Phew, that turned into a bhashan!

 *This is how that nickname came about:
Me: to be honest i think the most annoying and attractive thing about is that he makes absolutely no sense to me
The Bride: does he stand next to bookcases looking aloof?
Me: hhahahahaha YES!!!! thats it he has a new nickname mr darcy
TB: hehe sounds dangerous you know how my mr. darcy story ended
Me: hahahahahaha well i dont think i would object to mr darcy calling me love of his life and proposing marriage
im just saying
but thats it exactly
he infuriates me with his aloofness and his distance and his non neediness goddammit
TB: haha
me: and his goddamn intelligence and his ability to use it
and his bloody fucking interest in things he doesnt know
and his curiosity
and worst of all his appreciation of these things in me
the intelligence and curiosity
lol
iiiiii got it baaaaaad

evoL, yarP, taE*

So I got back from that dream trip last night.
That's right folks, your very own MinCat finally, FINALLY went to Colombia!
For two weeks, which felt like a lot until I got there and met all the backpackers doing six month trips. But still. I went to Colombia.
COLOMBIA!
Land of aguardiente, salsa and hot men who think I'm hot!
Two weeks of city hopping, staying up till four, consuming ridiculous amounts of booze, flirting, dancing--in a nutshell, fun!

No, not really.

It hit me when I was sitting in a hostel in Cartagena (Cartagena!! historic architecture! LOTS of HOT caribbean men who love culos caribeños!), the night before my birthday, choking and fighting back tears as I talked to OW while waiting for the nice Argentine couple to come have a drink with me.

It was like that everywhere. In Bogota, as I packed to leave for Manizales. In Manizales, as I sat in the bus station waiting for the bus to Medellin. In Medellin, as I stood in a bar, all dressed up, against the wall watching as everyone talked to one another and no one talked to me. In Tayrona, as I hiked up the mountain, through the gorgeous rainforest, and saw animals right out of Gerald Durrell. In Tayrona, as I sat on the second most beautiful beach I've ever seen, with the sun setting, the stars rising and a hammock awaiting me atop the cliff. In Bogota as I made a really bad but much appreciated Indian dinner for my friends, so I could turn thirty not completely alone. In Bogota, as I finally got drunk and danced at my friend's birthday party.

I went to my phone, as a live vallenato trio performed in the next room, and every single person there was drunk and dancing, and I wrote (yet another) self-indulgent email to The Bride (god bless her patience), about how I must be boy repellent, and it was quite amazing.

The next morning, I woke up and reread the email. It made me cringe. What had happened to me? Here I was, thirty, a good six months past the biggest slump I've had. Six months ago, I wouldn't have cared if a boy looked at me or not; I'd have been out there in the middle of the floor, dancing with someone. I would have asked people to dance. I would have been smashed out of my head in Medellin, partying with the lovely people I met. I would have been dancing with joy at being on that beach in Tayrona, ecstatic at having seen a peccary and a yellow-fronted amazon parrot. I would have found the couchsurfer in Cartagena and been dancing to bring in my birthday.

What has happened to me (again)?

I thought that all the fears that plague me, all the things I think can't happen or won't happen, were a direct result of where I was. I thought I was alone, and no one asked me to dance because they were stupid desi boys. I thought I always end up in the friend zone, or against the wall because no one here understands or appreciates me.

But it turns out that all this was inside my own head, and of course I took it with me. To Colombia, to New York, to Spain--it didn't matter where I went, I've dragged this chip around with me, nurturing and caressing it, holding it close and taking it to bed with me. And the only time I've ever taken my own advice, that I plentifully give out to other people, I WAS happy, I WAS in a magical place where these things disappeared into insignificance. All I have to do is really just let the goddamn chip go, look for the good things in my life (of which there are PLENTY), and live my life, as much as I can as much as I want, and not make myself feel like it is incomplete or I am waiting for anything to happen or anyone to come along.

And yeah, I had to leave India, land of epiphanies and great life-altering realizations, to figure it out.

*Do ya get it? huh huh huh?

100 Years*

(Old post. Left in the drafts. And yet, it kinda works still.)

MinCat's back y'all. This blog is like my little warm safe wormy hole. Is anyone reading even? Not that I'd blame you if you'd given up...

Once again I run back to you my dear blog, because once again I'm stuck at dame lo que quiero. The question, as always, is QUE es lo que quiero? What do I want. I don't know anymore. Sometimes I think I need to see a hypnotist...

Three days ago I was wondering if I made the biggest mistake of my life because I left BBot. Now I'm wondering why I'm breaking rules over someone else. Someone else. Story of my life. Forgive me, best beloved, I'm a little drunk and a lot lost. So expect a ramble.

This year's love had better last caterwauls David Gray, and well, I think I couldn't agree more. Is there a love this year? You tell me. I drove under the influence, to get him home, when all I wanted was for him to stay. I think of him six hundred times a day. Even when I'm with someone else. And yes, by with I mean in bed with. He's emotionally unavailable, completely guaranteed to drive me crazy with insecurity if we ever end up together. But oh god, when he's touching me, I can't think straight. When he's talking to me, I'm interested. For him, I will listen to Bob Dylan. I tell myself I don't want to, I should not, and then I try and make sure we can spend time alone together. I spent fifteen minutes trying to catch the spot on me that smells like him tonight. I want to wrap him around me and never let him go.

I thought I was all cool now and I could handle sleeping with someone I like. We fool ourselves often, no?

*cos it's playing now, and it's kinda apt no?

Out of the mouths of babes

Even if put there by scriptwriters.

The kid on Californication (which I just discovered oh my god) says to her mother: you gotta love him for who he is, not his potential.

There's a line for me to live by.

Give us a break

So this morning the Good Men Project had two lovely and highly contradictory articles up. (Actually one of the reasons I love them is precisely because they do that--post all sorts of perspectives at all strengths.) The theme this week seems to be online dating, and the first of the pieces (in the order in which I read them) was this one, about being a man while on a date. The second was this one, about giving men a break because in the dating world, all the onus is on them. (I wonder how I'd have reacted if I'd read them in reverse order?)

Summarizing for those too lazy to read ;), the first one says that when it comes to the first date, be the man, take charge. Pick the location, pay for the date, text her the next day. The second one says that its 2012, men have to ask out, hold the door, propose, bring home the bacon, pay for dinner, etc. Cut them some slack.

I gotta say, I loved the first one. Yes, I can pay for dinner or go Dutch. Yes I am perfectly capable of getting myself home, and if I want to talk to you, I have your number and I can call. But when it comes down to it, even if I'm not evaluating you as future provider, etc, it's nice to let go and have someone take charge once in a while. I think that, in the context of me, and my peers, we've established that women and men are equal. Unfortunately, in the process, we seem to have established that the acceptable way to enact this equality while dating is to be discourteous--don't call, if you do you're needy; if a guy does something kind like offer to carry something, he's being sexist, just cos he's a guy and you're a girl; don't give people advance notice of things, you should keep them on their toes, etc.

The main reason why I'm totally with the first article is very simple: it's a first date, and you're essentially there to get a sense of the person. This does not mean a woman cannot be assertive and take charge. However, if you buy into the whole women are in power in the dating marketplace thing, since they, ultimately, are the ones who decide if anything is going to come of it at the beginning, then they are the ones who have to be given a good sense of who you are, so they can then decide fairly.*

Of course, having gone on god know how many terrible first dates in 2011, and having dated a pathological ditherer who drove me CRAZY with his inability to pick a restaurant, and generally never having been on the receiving end of a date like the one he describes there, I'm not exactly unbiased.

The problem arises when either or both parties thinks that this is or should be the norm. If I received a first date like that, I'd return the favour on the second date. Of course the problem that crops up there is that, whether they admit it or not, the standard desi man does NOT like women who take charge. Once you do, you're bumped. Which brings me to what's unfair about the dating world for women--we have to be equal and step up and take on our share of things, but do it in a delicate unobtrusive way that will not bruise the fragile egos of the men.

Conclusion?
Don't date.


*Notice that I'm saying this is in the specific context of dating today where women are supposed to have all the power. Haven't seen much of that vaunted power myself, but still...

The Reticent Mr Snuggles

The Dragon and I once write a children's story based loosely around a rabbit called Mr Snuggles who was, well, reticent. It caused much hilarity because it was so lame and Mr S was a code word we had for a boy I was then crushing on. The reason I bring this up today, however, is that I've noticed a remarkable level of reticence in boys I date. Is it just me?

Granted, I am one of those people who will tell you what I've done all day if you ask me what's been up, but still, I've noticed that, when making plans to meet up, boys are supremely reluctant to give out information, even in response to a direct question. Often they do this across the board, resulting in my dithering for five minutes about whether I'm prying before deciding to say "You never answered my question" and repeating it. Though how on earth 'What time?' when trying to figure out if one can meet for a drink a certain evening can be constituted as prying I don't know...

Perhaps they don't see it as prying, and it's just how they are--not seeing the need to give me information as important enough to be addressed, and definitely not as important as their need for information.

In which you are given more unsolicited advice on relationships from atop my soapbox

Moving forward from this post, there are there are other and far scarier things in relationships than someone not being your everything. Take parents.

Nothing is scarier than being with someone whose parents are irrational about you, and the person you're with dismisses it. 'No, they just need time to get used to you.' 'No, they can't understand what a girlfriend is; they'll be fine once we're married.' (Yes, personal experience. BBot's father used to leave the house when I entered. His mother used to harangue me with 'generalized' theories about love and marriage, unsubtly hinting that I was bad for her son and it would never work. Heh, guess she was right eh?)

Don't get me wrong--lots of people are hard to deal with and always will be. The problem to me is when the partner is like no my parents are FINE. No. Not okay. You have to accept that your parents are at least a little nuts, and acknowledge that they could cause problems. This is the only way I can honestly believe that you're on my side. My mum can be scary as hell, mainly cos she will take your trip as if she were your friend, and is rather merciless about it--totally not aunty behaviour and thus nothing any desi boy is prepared for. I know this. I tell her to behave. I deflect the teasing when I can.And I warn them to expect it and show no fear, as it were.

Then what about when the person you're with displays behaviour that you can't like. You try, but it doesn't work. You get hurt. You talk about it, they promise to fix it. The whole week they are good. Or say you broke up with them, and they want you back. New rules are laid down and they are following them. But somehow you can't trust them, and you wonder if you're being unfair. I've done this with BBot so many times--berate myself for not trusting him to follow through on the promise of better behaviour, even though I know he hasn't in the past. Don't do it. Don't resent the person, but until they have proven that they are truly in the past don't forget what they did to hurt you. Forgive, but don't forget, because you learned something, you had to recover from what they did; you have to heal yourself and learn to trust them again--why should you let it happen again? You'd be stupid if you weren't even a little wary!

But somehow women are expected to just let things go, in a way men aren't.Oh he's just a guy. And guys act like they're naughty rascals and you should just slap their wrists and let it go.

I'm tempted to make statements like "women are always more grown up; we're less fragile; we are more resilient. It's a sort of species trait, as it were". I don't know how true this might be, but I can't help but think it has quite a strong element of truth to it. But then again, maybe I just keep only SIW in my life and ignore the other women because for my purposes of friendship I don't need such a huge pool, but when it comes to dating I gotta keep em all around. Either way, there are still less SIM then SIW that I encounter. But setting aside the argument about gender traits, the goal in a relationship should be balance--that sometimes you can be the kid and he has to mollify, and vice versa, etc. Indian women, we often have this sort of ingrained tendency to just make things easy for guys.

Must. Fight. It.

May-kaaran

Each year, when my sister is here and my cousins visit, we gather around the table for my grandma to prod our palms and produce occult pronouncements like "Ah yes, you'll want to get married after you have a physical relationship"--to The Snoog, who proceeded to gulp in shock till Scoo dived in to the rescue.

Now Nona is famous among many for the accuracy of her occult pronouncements (you can't really argue--once you have a physical relationship, you are more open to marriage, unless you're a bit of a ho like me). She told a friend of mine, who desperately wanted to study in Germany, that he wouldn't--but he'd study abroad all right, and use his German. He studied in the UK and is now in Switzerland. She told me, on the 2nd of January 2011, that I shouldn't fret about work--it would sort itself out in 15 days. Penguin called on 17th January. She told me at Deepavali that after 15th November all the things that had been bothering me over the past three years would begin to chill out--I found Career, evolved the right kind of relationship for me, and have a truckload of friends in Delhi now. She also told me I'd be promoted, and I was, on the 1st of November or something like that.

This time, her pronouncement for me was this: You'll have a very good year, with a very interesting middle. Will I go to Colombia, I asked. That's a very specific question she said. Okay, I said, Will I travel? Yes, short trips, about 15 days at a time. And also on work. Oh, also, you'll find yourself in a permanent relationship in May.

It was my turn to gulp like a beached goldfish.

What does it say about me that the one sentence I've been waiting to hear from her for ten years, when it finally came, my reaction was: What! May?!?! No! That's too soon!!!

Of course we've been referring to the proposed arrival as May-kaaran, or May-man. Though apparently there's a delectable double meaning in Tamil that I don't remember.However, Universe, if you're listening, May-kaaran better be able to furnish our house from Fab India ;)

Sledgehammer*

Many things have been bubbling in mah heid of late, especially the day I was fretting over BBot and the night I was crying for something--I still don't know what. After that night I wondered to myself why I hadn't called anyone. There are definitely people who would have soothed me telephonically, people who know what's going on and are unequivocally on my side. I thought maybe it had something to do with my wanting someone from our gang to be on my side, but I know that's not true, because of how much they did support me through the whole thing.

One night though, it came to me. While my life might be am embarrassingly open book with no boundaries, I hate letting people see me vulnerable. And then one of my friends suddenly confessed, in a moment of candour, to something, and it made me smile, because of our complicated history. I knew in that moment that he trusted me---something neither of us might have expected 2 years ago. And I realised that I trust him too. And then I realised that I don't know how I feel about trusting all my wonderful new friends in Delhi, mainly cos they are new, and experience etc. etc.

But then  I started thinking about how this trust starts, and how it becomes the ultimate foundation for love of all kinds. There is a point when you do reveal your vulnerability to someone, and in that moment, when they swoop in, scoop you up and protect and nurture you--that's when you know you can love them, and that's when you start. That's when the seed is planted.

Also, turning that around, can you love someone when you have not seen them at their lowest and most vulnerable?

*for those who haven't watched the show, his tagline was "Trust me, I know what I'm doing".

The great meeting

So when I came home for New Year and Her Ladyship, I called the boys. The Punjabi (which I realise is a bad bad nickname cos hell I live in Delhi!) asked me what I was planning for New Year and I said nothing at all, bumming at home. I never go out for New Year's and I wanted to be at home. He then asked if he could come over, since there really was only him and Disco Dancer in town. After the debacle of OOF at my birthday party we are all understandably wary of parties, and both TP and DD told me to tell my mum, no OOF! We'll be fine!

Then, the day I was leaving Delhi, TP said to me, oh, by the way, BBot is in town, you should invite him and his other friend.

I was in shock.

It's FINE he said, don't worry. He'll come and if he doesn't behave, I'll kick him out.

Something in me rebelled. Yes, I'd been hoping that one day we'd manage to be friends again. It would make everyone's lives easier, and well, I miss him. But like this?

For one thing, wouldn't it be better to meet in a neutral place, not MY house? Second, since he shut the door, and rebuffed my attempts to reopen it, shouldn't he be the one to open it?

Both TP and DD dismissed objection #2. DD said that I was being silly, because I dumped him I had to make amends. When I said I did, I gave him my best friend, he said please that's got nothing to do with this--she's an adult. Touche. But I'm not completely comfy with the way that everything is on me cos I "dumped" him. As if it was easy for me. As if he never did anything wrong. Etc. TP also reacted along similar lines. He also said, look I've never asked you to meet him before this; I'm telling you, he's ready for it. I explained that what scared me was that BBot has never met me halfway--maybe 10%--which is one of the reasons we didn't work. And I did not want to let myself believe that he would actually make an effort and meet me halfway. TP told me not to worry, he would guarantee BBot would.

I talked to Appa, who told me it was fine, we should all be civil and friends. I said okay.

But deep inside I was in turmoil.

Why?

I don't know.

Well, I have some theories. But those are for later.

I freaked out for two straight days. I was calling people. I cried myself to sleep after three months. I felt worse because the person I'd have called was the Dragon. Bombay Boy told me I needed to figure this out in my own head before I saw him, and I knew he was right. So I said no, not in my house. We compromised with the party as TP's grandma's which is ten minutes from where I live. I told the Poo she had to come with, cos I really needed someone unequivocally on my side at the party, someone who got that I didn't "dump" him, and didn't think that the supposed dumping sort of gave BBot martyr status--as if he's miserable now and not really much happier.

Then another friend called to say he was throwing a surprise party for his wife's birthday, and agreed to have BBot come too--so we met in a neutral place. This friend, for whom I can't be bothered to think up a nickname, despite the fact that we're all friends, is someone who has actually heard about the whole BBot story, right from the start, and is much closer to me than him. He promised to keep my glass full and let me hide behind him if I needed (thankfully he is the one person I can actually hide behind), and I went to the party.

BBot came. We shook hands. We made small talk. TP stuck around to be buffer. We were relaxed and cheerful. People who've known each other a long time, and have very close friends in common, but aren't close themselves. We even managed to talk about the Dragon, and hold our own alone for five minutes.

It was over.

And then the mindfuck began.
Which will get it's own post if I'm ever ready to talk about it.

But all told, we're fine; we can socialize, and even refer to the fact that we knew each other very well. New Year's went off well, with a few very minor possibly awkward situations, which he handled with grace. (Me too!) I wonder if part of the mindfuck stems from the fact that he couldn't do it to save our relationship, and still he gets to be the victim.

But I think mostly being around him is a stark reminder of how easily I was replaced in his life and in Dragon's, making it not a 2 year relationship I have to get over, but an 8 year one.