of true love

It is a truth universally acknowledged that I love you is something most people in the West tend to avoid saying until they really have to. Not so in India. In India, I love you is usually synonymous with I wanna to do fraandship with you which, in turn, boils down to two things.

(a) The guy wants to get into the girl’s pants (or in the case of some Indians, salwaar).

(b) The poor thing wants a girlfriend so he can look cool, and frankly, any girl that says yes will do.

Not in AP’s case. In his case, a third, and a very rare (for a man) phenomenon was taking place. He thought that because N was nice to him, and they were friends, they must be secretly in love, and therefore it was his moral responsibility to take the first step.

Wondering who AP and N are? Read the first two parts of this story here and here.

To me it seemed like a bad idea for a rotund, balding, criminally emotional man to even bother pursuing a tall, hot, casual sex-having woman. But he didn’t listen, and I was duly appointed messenger to slyly convey his love for her. It wasn’t an easy task.

First, she hated his guts. Fatty Fatterson? Not in this life! When I told AP, he was so crestfallen, he started smoking twice as much as he did, while maintaining a just-friends front for N’s benefit. He would avoid looking at her even as her boobs spilled out of her why-does-she-even-bother sphagetti and her hand reached for her crotch under the waistband of her tinier-than-Ana’s-panties shorts as she lay on the mattress in the living room, watching TV. She often shifted to her side, making her supple (34C) breasts look larger than they were, and some days I could swear I saw AP’s eyes well up. (Well, mine too, but out of my inability to look away. D was either too nice or too careful, but I never caught him staring.)

And then, one day, she started finding him amusing. I can tell you that months of moping can be wiped out with a smile and a You bought me a zippo for my birthday. That’s really sweet, especially when followed up with a lingering feel-my-boobs-yet hug.

She will fall in love one day. I’m telling you she will.

Well, the bugger was right. She did! She actually fell in love.

(But with someone else. More later.)

Have you ever had to play go-between? Have you ever been proxy-approached or proxy-rejected? Ever had a roommate that pranced around practically naked, leaving you embarrassed every time you looked at them? 

of privacy

D (the ex-husband) and I had been married for just over a quarter. As with all newlyweds, privacy was highly desirable and in our case, something we didn’t have. We lived in a house with aging parents and only one western toilet, which was unfortunately attached to our bedroom.

We lay in our bed one Saturday, discussing in hushed tones what we could do about our situation. It was the middle of the night, so it was eerily silent; we could hear nothing except for the sound of the crickets, the wind whistling in through a partly open window, and my mother-in-law’s incessant snoring. Continue reading of privacy