If you leave me, I’ll never fall in love again

Familiar words? Those men never fail to amuse me.

The last one who cried not too long ago, perhaps a little more than a year now surprised me completely out of my wits. When we were together, not to-gether and every other time he was virtually living as a voice inside my phone whined about how he’s the loyal type, bound to a girl like glue. That’s why he took 3 odd years to get over his ex and his misery at that time was directed at me because he’d take forever to get over our incomprehensible relationship. I laughed. Scoffed. Then held the phone far away from my ear.

One year and two months later he’s married!

Maybe I’m easy -to -forget material. I shouldn’t have laughed so hard.

Looking for the perfect man?

Handsome. Intelligent. Teetotaler. Non-smoker. Graduate. Rich. Respectable. Well mannered. Charming.

According to the 250 marriage proposal ads in the newspaper last Sunday, almost all posses the above criteria. Even the divorced 50 – odd -year -olds are distinguished –looking. Intelligent. Teetotalers. Non-smokers. Graduates. Rich. Respectable. Well mannered. Charming.

Had I only intently read the papers a year ago, I wouldn’t have wasted my time looking for the ‘perfect man’ at social dinners, company functions and walked for that ‘save-the-people’ charity walk!

SIGH!

He proposed

In these desperate times of need I wish with my whole soul, heart and mind that Fuzz was here, not somewhere in that cold, dank and weary side street in Central London. It’s been sometime since Fuzz and I had a chat, a chat about our insecurities, gossip, men, love and the frivolous antics of our other buddies who live in different parts of the world.

This time the conversation stemmed on one scene, her proposal. Excitement in the air, fingers gripping the phone, I dance around my room in exhilaration. The news, such happy news. I’m a girl after all and marriage is a cause for great rejoicing and an excuse to bounce on my bed.

“He proposed, on one knee and all”. Fuzz without leaving any room for breathing.

“Oh how boring!!”. Didn’t mean to say that but the words tumbled out, dampening the excitement like the cold harsh weather of the bitter monsoon. Fuzz being Fuzz decided that the statement deserved an explanation, especially since it was such a mood killer.

So I begin my tirade of how I find the whole going down on one’s knee such a cliché. It’s hardly creative, isn’t love supposed to be full of surprises?

“I guess, maybe something like honey, meet my new girlfriend! Now that’s a surprise, isn’t it? “ Fuzz really had to comment on that one.

I continue while trying to ward off her giggles. I mean come off it, be serious. How exciting is it if he goes down on one knee and proposes to you at a restaurant? You can see that coming from a mile away, if you can’t, your myopic. It’s different though if he made a complete fool of himself and proposed in some crowed mall. But most of all I’d prefer a scavenger hunt. I think that’s an awesome way to propose.

“What about finding the ring in the Champagne or other alcoholic substance?”  quips Fuzz.

Urgh! I’d hate that, if I were nervous I’d gulp my substance, choke because of the damn ring and be dead before saying yes. Sounds romantic eh?

Fuzz grew silent at that, I could almost hear her heart beating. She is in an awfully contemplative mood and I kick myself for being a killjoy. I apologize but she laughs and tells me that she thinks a scavenger hunt is a good idea…

“ A good idea for what?” I scream.

Apparently it’s a good way of accepting the proposal. Oh goodness gracious me, she didn’t say yes because she wanted to build suspense and accept in the most creative way….  She’s such a tease! And I love her and wish her the best for her future with this man who’s sitting there bursting many a blood vessel.

Mundane questions

Life has a lot of interesting questions but instead don’t you feel like you’re showered with the silly routine ones that makes no sense.

How are you?

Everywhere I go, I’m bombarded with this question. There is nothing wrong with it. It’s just that those who pose this question don’t really care about my wellbeing, it’s more like they’re compelled to ask everybody they bump into. Besides how many people give an honest answer to that question anyway, most often than not instead of saying what they really feel, they fake a smile and then say “great’. I admit to doing that a couple of times simply because I do not want to discuss my problems with someone who’s more interested in moving onto the next person so they could smile and say “how are you?”.

When are you getting married?

I’ve been asked this question ever since I hit 18; its got worse after my brother got married. It’s scary that people think that humans were created for the sole purpose of procreation…well I guess you’re mind is kinda flummoxed now, yes you’re right we were indeed created for that purpose but things have changed, not everyone needs to produce offspring so I’ll just leave China to go forth and multiply.

Are you pregnant?

Great!!! Now that you’re safely married, people want to know when the Teletubbies would pop out. I’m not married (yet) but most of my friends are and I know what they go through because sometimes I decide to play an absolute wretch and attack them with questions they hate hearing.

You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend?

Uh, he’s the janitor. What is it with people who assume that any man you’re seen with is your boyfriend/lover… doesn’t matter if he’s an absolute stranger who happened to ask the time, or the Mc Donald waiter who recognized me because I’m a loyal customer (Double Yuck!!) as long as they’ve seen you with a MAN. Yikes, you’re in trouble!!!

Koheda yanne? (Where are you going?)

The sleazy Sri Lankan cops love invading our privacy by asking us where we go, rudely poking their heads right through our shutters and also smelling our breath. All this makes me a tad bit sick. They also from time to time love asking you whether you’re drunk, which makes me wonder whether we should be asking them the questions.