Men! Ugh. *Pause.*

Samples of the new men I have met since I got to Bombay six months ago.

The Bachelor

Probably only the second guy ever to officially ask me out on a date. Met him at an admissions fair. His spoken English was like our written English. Seriously, with commas, semicolons and everything. I was duly turned on. There must have been at least a dozen fluffy-haired PYTs there, but structured English speaker guy came up to me, and chatted me up. I was kicked.

He called me over the next few days and proceeded to get to know me (Or rather, to get me to know him.) He seemed interesting over the phone, but I wasn’t comfortable meeting him one on one yet, so I stalled until I could set up a get-together. But he still called. And called again. He literally called every Thursday, to check my plans for the coming Friday/Saturday. I’d stall, say that I was preoccupied (which I really was!), and like clockwork, the next Thursday evening – another call about the weekend. Now I’m no president, but I just do not have the time to entertain the same damn call every week, wth!

When we finally met up at the carefully orchestrated group scene (you know, in case he turned out to be a psycho, or an idiot), a few oddities dawned upon me. He drinks only red wine (health-conscious or something). He had hit the big three oh and seemed strangely cool about it. I recalled every phone call of his being laced with at least two data points about himself – a quality or a qualification or an interest. And why did he approach me that day at the fair, I wondered? I definitely looked older than the other girls there. I was fairly soberly dressed too, just, like, just chic enough. Why would any given guy approach a serious-looking older gal over skinny lil PYT’s available in abundance? You know, I distinctly remember him asking me for advice on a career move. Really? Career advice from somebody five years behind you in her career path? Why?

Was this guy on the lookout for a bride? Was he randomly befriending women of his age and dishing hobbies and promotions in the hopes of finding a match? Was he in such a hurry that he had to periodically hound them until they met and talked life’s ambitions?

At the get-together, I got buzzed (as anyone my age should) and (unintentionally) flirted with the boyish-looking DJ and (unintentionally) ignored the poor bachelor. He never called me again. I guess he sensed I wasn’t ready for commitment.

The Disregarder

I don’t even want to write the whole story. The guy takes out all his frustration on me even though we just met, sits and rolls a joint (and takes forever to do so) in an open air cafe even though the rest of us were clearly not interested, peacefully smokes it and proceeds to peacefully consume a cake while the rest of us just wait politely to get out and hit the bar we planned to an hour ago, has utter disregard for my time (keeps telling me to ‘chill out’ even though I kept repeating how much I had to do, seriously, I never thought of chilling out man…). Why, you ask, did I put up with his crap? Because I am a nice person, and I thought he didn’t know any better. Chalo, that was over and done with. But the other day, he calls me (this includes several ‘Guess who’ tirades while I was at work) and makes small talk and suggests we catch up sometime. Why? Why would anyone treat me like a tissue and then suggest we catch up sometime? I don’t get it.

The SMS Bombarder

SB: “Hey xyz here, What’s up”

Me: No reply

SB: “Hey! Good morning!! What’s up ”

Me: “Hey, nothing much, (work something something…. ) ”

SB: “Hahaha nice!! So where you working and what u working on?? ”

I proceed to tell him about what I do and the very busy day I am having.

SB: “Hahaha.. That’s good then.. I’m up to no good!! Getting bored!! (proceeds to state reasons for boredom) So ya that’s all ”

Me: No reply

SB: “So how busy are you?? ”

Me: “Evidently, very :). My sympathies for the (boredom situation). ”

SB: “How come so busy? No time for new found friends? ”

Me: No reply

SB: “So what plans now? ”

Me: No reply

SB: “U getting my msgs? ”

Me: “Yup! ”

SB: “And ur just busy or ignoring me? ”

Me: “Refer to my earlier msgs? ”

SB: “Very busy?? Alright.. Why’s everyone busy? ”

Me: No reply

SB: “So boring! ”

Me: No reply

SB: “Ok I think I’ll stop irritating u otherwise u’ll get bored of me”

Me: “That would be wise.”

SB: “Alright then”

 

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Now come on, I’m on no manhunt, but wouldya throw me a bone here!

My December

I noticed the last time I wrote here was in November. While long gaps in between posts are characteristic of only every other blog, I certainly did not intend to start out this way. Not unlike only every other blog.

When I look back on the month gone by (and the year, Happy New Year anyone?), I can't help feeling mostly tired. It's been a crazy month work-wise - I've been taking on all sorts of new tasks and learning all sorts of lessons on communication, negotiation and management. Combine crazy work month with two application deadlines (key takeaway - newfound talent for creative writing) and the usual roller coaster love ride (We're perfect for each other; We need to break up; I love you, I miss you, I &%#^@*$^%). And add to that the bane of Bombay in the winters - Wedding Season.

Wedding madness it is I tell you, the number of invitations I got! Now I am only just getting into the twilight years of singlehood - understandably a phase of multiple simultaneous wedding invites from my fellow Indian whywait-ers, so I am not claiming to have had an event to attend every week or anything. But it was still crazy. The first couple of weddings - I didn't even know the bride or groom. I was always a friend of a friend, invited out of courtesy, there to meet the middlemen friends. Who knew random weddings could be the place of overdue reunions with long lost friends, huh? Ok I knew that. But still, it was all very heart-warming. So I came, I ate, I socialized (oh, newfound talent for genuinely fake-laughing through evenings of awkward social situations!) But then came the biggunn. My Best Friend's Wedding.

Yes, the friend I mentioned before got married. (Hey, I forgot to write about the kickass bachelorette party I helped throw her - that was fun! Yours truly was the makeshift bartender serving makeshift kinky drinks much appreciated by the brides). I can't really express here how overwhelming it was to see the girl I used to share tiffins with all decked in green and red, glittering all over (she has NEVER glittered, the woman wouldn't even wear eye makeup!), obediently touching walnut-like objects in front of the fire as and when the pandit asked her to. And don't even get me started on the bidaai. I didn't think she would cry. I didn't think Uncle would cry. Auntie toh cried. But Vi cried first. Then Auntie. Then Uncle. Then just about everyone. It always looks silly on TV, but, as expected, in real life, with your tiffin buddy, it was pretty hardcore.

Grand reception, elaborate spread, socializing with long lost friends and their moms. Also, Gujju food is seriously underrated. My friend looked like a princess. A princess in pink, glittering again. With movie star hair.

Gosh, it sounds like this whole blog is dedicated to weddings and boyfriends bloody! That is so not what I was going for. Let me change the subject quickly. Bombay rock scene. There! Yeah, something new I'm trying. Big city, small community. Trying to increase awareness about local gigs, new album releases and the like, with the help of a group that started out in Bangalore and is now spreading out in Bombay. Involves a lot of calls, a lot of coordination, much persuasion (damn negotiation, all over again). Might as well put my fledgling managerial skills to good use no? And hey if I absolutely HAVE to attend a few rock shows or interview cute bassists and drummers along the way, I guess that wouldn't be so bad.

PostScript: This doesn't mean the end of wedding madness. Still a couple more coming up, one of which I am actually looking forward to. And this time I will glitter.

25 years and my life is still

Trying to get up that great big hill of hope

For a destination

You look sleepy!

To all the idiots I've ever had the misfortune of passing by at the workplace - you know who you are.

I hate it when you tell me I look sleepy/tired (i.e. every day). Besides stating the ridiculously obvious, it is also inappropriate to comment on a woman's appearance, especially in a professional environment. You know why I'm sleepy/tired, because you have been sleepy/tired yourself. And if you haven't, then maybe it's time you wondered why all you do is work and sleep and nothing in between. Excuse me, but I have a life.

(Don’t) Marry Me

I was reading a blog today, one that I uncovered after the usual digging into blog roll after blog roll. It was my kinda blog – simple; I could see the girl didn’t have the time to explore snazzy design templates, which I liked – no frills, to-the-point. And her writing met my basic criteria of mostly grammatically correct, mostly fully formed sentences, with just that teensy bit of unintended humour here and there. I was enjoying her posts about her day-to-day life, finding myself relating to her packing-and-moving issues, lunch buddy issues. And then I read something about her husband. She’s married. Out of respect I finished reading that post, but after that I hit Ctrl + W.

I’ve done this before. I once met this wonderfully friendly girl, my age group, in a small city I used to live in. She was a judge at a singing event I was handling in the office cultural fest, because she was a singer herself. We got chatting; she was bubbly, and she had an interesting career. Now I didn’t have a lot of girlfriends in this city, most of the girls I knew were homely. Yes, I’m anti-homely. As I was talking to her, I thought this is nice. And she even voiced my thoughts and said out loud how nice it was that we met at this event else we wouldn’t have met. And then she started talking about potty-training her two-year-old. About how recent studies show that you shouldn’t impose the potty-box-thingie on the guy cuz it may make him shy and insecure later in life. We exchanged numbers, I avoided her calls, and phased her outta my life.

What is it about married people that repels me so much? Married people my age that is. My best friend from school is getting married next month, and I couldn’t be unhappier for her. I mean of course I’m happy for her. But it’s just that I still see this marriage thing as something we do later in life. I always thought we need three full decades behind us before we can claim to be ready to share our lives with other people and make offspring and all that. I am there for her, I want to celebrate with her, but every bone in my body screams ‘It’s too soon’ ‘You don’t have to marry at 25, you can wait another year’ ‘You’re not ready! You don’t know how to shop for veggies!’

And you know what the real kicker is? I am like ready to marry K. (Eventually, not right now. Right now everything’s fucked up.) Between him and me, HE is the one who freaks out about marriage, he is the one who curses his cousins for getting engaged, and I am the one who gently cajoles him into a state of acceptance of guys our age willingly settling down with the loves of their lives. To me, our future looks all rosy and fulfilling. But I am his equivalent in the me-singerlady equation.

Is it unreasonable for me to believe that married people are fundamentally different from single people? For instance, if my married friend and I are sitting at a bar, and we see a favourable-looking guy across the room, I’d think of how to make subtle enough eye contact that says ‘I’m interested, but I’m so not interested, so YOU come over.’ And my friend would think ‘How do I avoid this guy, I just got my guy to be on board with the going to the movies with male friends thing, we are not ready for this.’ This very difference in thought, does it not violate the very foundation of the relationship between my girlfriend and me? How will life ever be the same if we can’t check out favourable-looking guys together?

Does this have something to do with me not wanting to grow up? Hey I’ve grown up plenty. I have all my bills sent to me online, I own a smartphone, and I know how to check for good bhindi in the market. Heck, I even pulled off baking a cake last month. But start a PF account for kids I haven’t even met yet? Yeah I’m gonna try and make sure I have a date for New Year’s for now, thank you very much.

God I miss 21.