At this moment, I feel lonely. There’s only that much I can surf the Internet. There’s only that much I can play a video game. There’s only that much I can work out. And there’s only that much I can converse with myself about the several issues that plague my mind.
Now I really want to talk to someone. And I don’t have….someone. Yea I could reach into my whatsapp and message anyone of those first five names.
But….I don’t want to
I’ve never had any expectations from anyone. Why should I? At the end of the day, who am I to them? A friend? A boyfriend? A colleague? A relative?
No, at the end of the day I am simply someone who isn’t as important to them as their own self. They will do what suits them best, what benefits them the most. And if for even a second, they consider me while making a decision, I am grateful.
I have never felt hurt by betrayal.
I assume at the very beginning of every relationship that regardless of how close me and the person will be, their selflessness will be rare, their availability will be based on convenience, and their loyalty will be conditional.
Am i cynical or am I being realistic. I really don’t know. I guess I lend just a portion of my trust to every person knowing that it will be broken. It’s enough to satisfy their need for closeness. But not enough to empower them. No, that’s reserved only for me.
I am unable to comprehend how to fully trust someone. How to fully believe that they will always do right by me.
Maybe it’s because I know that I am too selfish to always do right by someone.
So I’ve stamped everyone with the standard which I think I would measure upto in a relationship. If they’re better than it, great! If they’re not, well, I really can’t seem to care.
thats too bad. i would totally fuck you
Awww that’s so sweet! I am very flattered! Every time someone says they’d fuck me, I just feel so happy inside
are you into boys or girls?
Women. I realized I sound like a pedophile when I say that I like “girls”.
"So tell us how you both met!"
So, let me tell you the story of how I got married. I was 26 and had just completed my MBA. I started working at an IT firm and at an employee group dinner, I met this beautiful Indian woman, Pooja. We struck up a great rapport and started hanging out with each other quite a bit. A month later, I asked her out. She said yes. We started dating. We introduced each other to our parents. Her parents liked me. And my parents adored her. After 2 years of dating, I proposed to her. She said yes. We got married.
How cute was that story?! Like a fairytale romance right?
But, I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you weren’t at all entertained by the story of my marriage. Was it too bland? Were there not enough hurdles that my wife and I had to go through? Maybe, it was boring because there wasn’t a third person! MAYBE, it was too normal.
Personally, I’m a romantic. I grew up with my Bollywood movies and Shahrukh Khan and was taught from a very early age that the sky would rain rose petals and random people around me would start dancing when I met my beloved. Then, Hollywood introduced me to the concept of a “soul-mate”. And it forbade me from accepting any less than a woman who shared the same quirks and favorite tv-shows and jokes and hobbies and sexual stamina as me. Moreover, it insisted that such a woman actually existed. So by age 17 I was expecting a fucking spectacle to take place when I met the woman of my dreams.
Here’s the thing. Normal is no longer good enough. It’s no longer good enough to just meet a person and fall in love with them. No. It has to be more elaborate. It has to be more exciting. It has to be nearly as good as the best romcom you’ve ever watched. It has to be good enough to be made into a TV show. When you recite the story of how you met “the one” to friends and relatives, they must be taken aback. At least one of them needs to let out an obligatory “Aww”. At least two drops of tears must be shed. At least someone must say, “Man, that was perfect. I wish my love story was like this!”.
It’s why people will falsify and add non-existent details to their love stories. It’s why not liking the same band becomes an instant deal-breaker.
It’s why people didn’t mind waiting 9 years for Ted fucking Mosby to meet his wife.
It’s why his kids didn’t scratch his eyeballs out for telling them not just the story of how he met their mother but also how he met the mothers of all the kids in New York City.
It’s why I thought that me walking past the same girl at the same time every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, actually signified something.
And it’s why I actually hear college kids around me being under pressure to have this fascinating romantic tale which involves some miracle or some strife or some magical almost impossible meeting between them and their luhhvurr.
Sure, I wouldn’t mind meeting a woman on the subway by accident and having a whirlwind romance which involves disapproving parents, a couple of exes, a dash to the airport to stop her flight from taking off, and an unrealistically beautiful wedding on the banks of a river with impossibly blue water.
But chances are, that won’t happen.
And I should be fine with that. And you should be fine with that too.
Who knows, maybe you won’t even find someone to be with. Like ever.
So learn how to bake. I’ve heard cupcakes help.
P.S. I’m not really married. And I’m 21. Sooooo…Ladies?
You’re torn between what you have, what you want, and what you should want. And that’s when you wish someone else could make the decisions for you.
I know that one day, I’m going to regret my inability to communicate my emotions effectively. I’ll just keep self-destructing till then. Hoping that people read my mind. And getting mad about the fact that they can’t.
If I try hard enough
#i fucking miss my country
If I try hard enough, I can smell the interiors of my Hyundai I20.
If I try hard enough, I can taste Pramila Aunty’s delicious chole bhature.
If I try hard enough, I can see my best friends huddled together, smiling back at me.
If I try hard enough, I can hear “Dhoom Machaale” being played at the musical fountains opposite my house at exactly 7 pm.
If I try hard enough, I can touch the cold rails of the rickshaw as I get into it.
If I try hard enough, I can feel the warmth of my mother as she hugs me when I wake up in the morning.
If I try hard enough, I have created my very own time machine.
And India is just a few stops away.
How would do you describe your college years? What have you learned? How have you changed? Sorry for the questions! I'm also coming from India to study in states!
Umm college has been a really long life lesson. An eye opener. Sure it’s the best four years of your life and you’ll have a lot of fun, but then again who doesn’t.
For me, college was more about becoming independent and adapting to a new society. I was very sheltered back in India. And then I was thrown halfway across the world into a country where they spell aluminium and colour wrong. Today I can actually deal with my shit without going to my parents for literally everything. To give you an idea of just how pathetic I was before college, I didn’t care to make my own bed and clean my room (my maids did it), I didn’t know how to do my laundry, I refrained from walking into the kitchen to even get myself a glass of water (I would yell for my maid to get it), I sure as fuck didn’t know how to cook, and I was horrible at managing money. Not that I’m a spendthrift but still.
Apart from that, I’ve just been exposed to so much after coming here. If you’ve lived in India all your life like I have, you know the shortcomings of our society. There’s so much censorship, there are so many close-minded fucks and you just don’t have this kind of a college community where you can openly discuss everything under the sun. That’s what I got here. Different cultures, different groups, different individuals, different issues, and different viewpoints. And I have received as much if not more education outside the classroom than I have in it.
I’m more tolerant and more informed.
And lastly, the people in this country love to talk. Small talk is an art that they have perfected. And they find even the most boring shit interesting.
For an introvert like me who couldn’t make small talk even if someone held a gun to my dick, the whole culture of talking so much was frightening at first. But it helped. I’ve become better at communicating and expressing myself in a group. I’m a lot less shy. And that’s a good thing, right?
Makes sense. I believed that it would make them a bit proud but it was too much to hope for. Indian family members seem to never be happy but mine could be the exception rather than the example. Oh that's pretty cool. You're already a good story teller so it'll definitely transfer well. So, since you're a Psych-y, what am I thinking? Lol.
Yea I’m planning to pitch NBC a story of my life haha. Let’s see if they’ll take me up on that.
And you’re thinking…”Man I hope this guy doesn’t guess which blog I’m running”