I have been wanted to write for days, after all as is the law of nature time keeps moving ahead and with it wittingly or unwittingly so does my life. I have been caught in the frenzy of wedding madness for the last few days. Not mine of course, but does that even surprise anyone?! I thrive well in chaos, chaos brings emotional turbulence and turbulence makes me tick, a wedding environment encompasses all this, therefore by association I love weddings.
The last few days have well and truly been a wild, unpredictable and often an incomprehensible emotional ride. There are no stories of unfulfilled sexual fantasies finally satiated. That only happens in the movies and American sitcoms, not in my life. Feeling extremely bloated from water retention doesn’t add to my sex appeal either. Hence on the personal front things have been just plain bland.
I’ve been perpetually tired, hungry, sleep deprived, cold and cranky for the last odd month or so. Things are now somewhat better now that my friend has left for the states and I finally have my room back. At least I can now sleep again, which does wonders for state of being.
I was having a strange conversation with some friends last night over a couple of drinks at Zenzi. Yes, I know, drinking on Monday’s is not generally recommended for good responsible working adults, but when have I claimed to know better?! A friend of a friend was visiting town for two days with a colleague from the U.K and the conversation somehow steered towards the number of hot people they had noticed during their brief stay. The count was at eleven. An insignificant amount when you take into consideration the eighteen million odd people that exist in this city.
Really now, what really constitutes as hot for someone?! We are all made out of the same basic body parts, yet the oh so subtle contours, shapes, lines and angles at which these parts are arched that makes us so vastly different from each other. Does physical appearance really, really matter in the end? Sure it is enough in the beginning to ignite that spark of attraction that may often times lead to some sort of an attraction between people, but is it really enough to ever sustain any meaningful relationship? What really constitutes as a meaningful relationship anyways? Is it fulfillment of sorts? If it is so then when is it that we reach that final state of contentment with another human being in our turbulent state of existence?
The musings of these strangers on the contemplation of hotness or its lack there of made me think of the people that I have encountered in the last six odd months or so since I moved back home. I may have possibly made eye-contact with say about ten thousand people, out which I barely remember a couple hundred odd faces, out of those two hundred I may have interacted with about fifty on a personal level, out of which five remain memorable. Out of those five three are emotionally unavailable, one is in a relationship and the other is a taint on human existence. In a city of eighteen million people, roughly half of which is men, there is absolutely no one worth dating. Now that’s a depressing scenario.
I’m weak and shallow. I crave attention and physical affection. It doesn’t take much to please me; a little attention from the opposite is all that it takes initially to make life a tad bit more interesting. Honestly who doesn’t want to be thought as sexy and desirable by someone of the opposite sex, hell I’ve been s damn deprived I’ll even settle with the same sex for now. But my ultimate honest confession, this only takes me so far. The truth of the matter is that I need someone interesting, smart and fun to establish a relationship with. That leaves me with very little to no options at all. I’m old fashioned and boring. For me a great date is a lively, interesting, and invigorating conversation about literature, film, politics and religion at a cozy, quiet bar over a few drinks. The good news is that I’m easy to please; the bad news is that apparently most men in Bombay don’t read. Nothing is sexier than a sexy mind, maybe I’m the only one that thinks so. Sometimes I get so lonely alone that I cry out in sheer frustration.
Many a times I reach out in my sleep hoping to snuggle a little closer to Matt or Paul but all I encounter is the cold, hard, empty bed.
I want a meaningful connection, but sometimes I get so physically frustrated that the search for meaning seems meaningless. My better self tells me to watch out and not let my physical urges get the better of me, but my naughty, horny self just tells me to go fuck, fuck, fuck!
I’m not hard to get, all someone has to do is captivate me in an interesting enough conversation, add a dash of Kafka and Camus in there, garnish it with a heated debate about the Israeli Palestinian and wola, I’m ready to drop my pants. In a world where everyone assumes multiple identities, it’s hard to find someone, anyone that I can identify with.
Okay I admit, I’m frustrated, but I have great reason, after what seemed like an eon of dating drought I have managed to meet three supposedly great men in the last two weeks! I sometimes catch myself grinning from ear to ear at the endless possibilities that this could lead too. Sadly, the excitement of it all is slowly dying and what lingers behind is plain disappointment.
The Bollywood actor that could potentially be a star seems entirely avoidable as he is obsessive and clingy. I don’t enjoy being called sweetie and honey by someone I have just met, let alone someone whose name I didn’t remember for the longest time. The investment banker is just plain bland and boring (maybe just the right thing I need at this point?) and then there is the cute, hot, dumb bar boy who I am currently obsessed with.
Cute, hot, bar boy is tall and handsome. He has lean arms that are just the right girth and a broad chest that I’m dying to see shirt less. He has an assortment of scars that embellish his body that makes him oh so alluring. He rides a motor cycle and lives exactly ten minutes away from me. Need I say more? I want to peel is clothes with my teeth. Cute bar boy also happens to be the dumbest man I have ever met, maybe. I have relentless flirted with him since the day we met and he just doesn’t seem to get the message. Subtlety is not my forte and apparently he doesn’t understand open advances either, the few times that I have seen him, which would be exactly twice to be precise, I have talked more with his friends than actually him. I could contemplate the possibility that just maybe he isn’t all that interested in me, the thought is honestly frightening, so I’ll leave contemplating the worse for later. Right now I just want to have him cornered alone and jump his bones, only if he would just call me!
My search for meaning has taken me far and wide, when I’m finally ready for a meaningful relationship, I’ll settle for the good Marathi IT engineer from Kolhapur that mom picks for me. Right now I’ll be perfectly happy with a nice romp in the sack with hot, dumb, bar boy which, of course I will regret later.