Desire

The crush is still very much on.

I am just waiting for it to get over.

It hurts to watch them together, watch her ask him to spend the night at her place.

I know that he sees me as a friend. Yet it hurts to see him use the same codes of friendship with our other friends.

They are not in a good phase in their relationship. He wants out, he is frustrated. She wants him completely in, and ends up choking him. ( Yes Bloyer, I now kind of understand how you would have felt).

I argue for her, I ask him not to give up on the relationship, I give her hope and strength. I do as a good friend ought to do.

But I do know that, if he brush his lips against mine, I would not flinch, and will invite him to my bed in a second. Desire is there, ever ready, ever watchful for a little slip in my reserve.

I desire him. I want to make love with him on the secluded meadow through which we jog, and when I jog I fantasize about us making love, the fantasy so vivid that it almost makes him stop and ask me if I am alright.

By word or deed, I haven't erred yet. But by thought, treacherous thought, I failed my friendship.

Bye Bye Bye

About Bloyer, and whether I should write to him again:

On that day, I saw a vertu phone. On that day, I saw a Land Rover.

But I did not see a Dalmatian. I only so brown dogs. No whites, no blacks.

And that means closing the book on Bloyer, never knowing what made us not to talk after the few days of intense connection over space and time.

Goodbye Bloyer.

For few days, you made me feel alive. For few days, you made me experience loving someone. Thanks you for that.

The choice not exercised

I think I met one of my soul mates.

But I am not going to do anything about it.

You see, Benny, one of my dearest friends, is with him. She loves him, more than she realizes, more than she is willing to admit.

And I love my friend, like more than a sister.

He is undecided about Benny. And I have seen it in his eyes that he too suspects the connection, like a dream that one has forgotten.

But friendships are too great to be sacrificed, even for soul mates.

So I will let this one go, and wait for another.

Almost, but not yet

Today I talked to Car.

Car is one man who will love me till end of my life and whom, try as I could, I can never love. Not after his freak out.

Car is one man who is a close friend. So when Bloyer vanished without so much as a goodbye, I wanted to call him up, and cry on his shoulders.

I sent Car an email, more of an SOS. But he doesnt call. I feel bad. I lost the man whom I thought was my soulmate, and now I lost a friendship.

But there were other, new friends who were as caring. I got functional. And Car called me when he finally saw my email.

What is it about?

I dont want to talk about it. Im fine now. Lets talk about our work.

Ok.

Two minutes later, I was telling him about Bloyer. How I felt when I received his emails. How I loved his blog. How I deleted each and every bit of info about him, defriended him, and yet my treacherous memory bring back every bit of conversation, every intense feeling, and his email ID to me uninvited.

Car listened.

May be you need to drop him an email once more. Feelings this strong should not be left alone.

No! I was angry at my fellow romantic, telling him how the rest of my friends wanted me to walk away from the carnage. Why does he want me to go back?

But still, he knows me well. And my guardian angel believes in second chances. But I need signs. I need symbols.

If between sleeping tonight and reaching home tomorrow after work, and if any of the following two conditions are fulfilled:

1) if I see a Vertu phone AND a Land Rover AND a Dalmatian - in real life ( incl dreams) , not in pictures or on web and recognize them as such

OR

2) I get a comment on this blog, on any post


I will email him.

If it is meant to happen Car, I will get the signs. If not, I wont.

Almost at the end of the tunnel- thanks to..

Wowie....

Now that Im back from the latest heartbreak episode, let me take a moment to thank all my friends and everything else which helped me get over this one without too much tear shed.

Not that any of them are ever gonna read this - heh.

1. Thanks Ruskie, for making fun of me. I was sobbing on the phone. You made me realize that I am the fabulous, awesome one here. And your "Sheesh woman! You fell for a page 3 jurno type?Eeeeeek!" shamed me into behaving more normally.

2. Thanks Benny, for checking, and checking, and checking some more that I am alright and am eating. Thanks, for pointing out that I should just have fun. Thanks for taking a look at his photo and saying "Honey... he is bald!" Gotta love that girl. And thanks for agreeing to be my wing woman and agreeing to set me up with your lanky native - wait, wait for it - just for fun.

3. Thanks Seke, for listening to me for four straight hours, trying to be my personal shrink ( hope you & Benny remain happy ) and finally naming him "Asshole from California." You made me laugh with your delivery and I laughed like a maniac.

4. Thanks Sri, for wanting to show off and thus buying me half of my window plant collection. You just made me realize that if I do dress up, men will spend a lot of money for me.

5. Thanks Hobbit, for noticing that I was sad, and not laughing at me when you heard my story. ( And for that, you are Whiney no more.) Thanks for promising to introduce all of your cute and handsome coworkers to me, once they are back from vacation.

5. Thanks to you who is out there, who brought some amazing new friends, awesome ladies, my way. Thanks Dude/tte!

6. Thanks facebook, for allowing me to defriend him. Ha!

7. Thanks blogger, for allowing me to leave a final comment on his blog, a remainder that he is not very different from those people whom he bitch about. Double Ha!

I still miss him a bit. But I have sufficiently moved on with my life to be happy on my own again, and to have fun.

Bloyer man

In my last post, I talked about two tangents : about men who make me purr with their words, and about the mistakes I made when I was a softie.

I think I can combine both, when I say that I will not email Bloyer anytime soon.

Bloyer is a lawyer who bloges. I loved reading him, and have been doing so for the past year. His blog is nice, good to read with him being sarcastic without mean.

I had emailed him a few times, telling him about a bit of gossip that comes my way.

One day, I got an email from him, wanting a photo of mine. And with that, he also commented on my blog.

One of my favorite bloggers, he had something to ask about my blog. How could I say no when he wanted a photograph of mine? I emailed it to him( mistake # 1).

He wanted to know more about me. I sent him my facebook link and invited him to add me ( mistake # 2).

We started emailing. He wrote good emails. Lovely emails. emails that made me wet and horny. And fall in love. with him. With a man whom I had never met, whose real name I did not know ( still dont) and whose face I have never seen ( have seen since.) Shall we call this mistake # 3 to infinity? No, you prefer them in increments of one? Ok. mistake # 3 then.

Falling in love, when you don't know what the other person feels about you - apart from the making you go week on the knees - is not good for a person's emotional stability. That weekend was one of the most miserable ones I ever had. I moped around, wrote him umpteen emails, acted like a crazy woman and finally, in all desparation, told him that I was falling in love with him. ( mistake # 4).

He replied back. Said he loves me sometimes. Sometimes.Wow. And that hurt. A little too much. And he all but called me a bitch for expecting quick replies to his emails. I was hoping for an email a day. No, we dont sms or call each other. and he must be thanking his stars for not sending me his mobile number.

Bloyer did send me his photograph. He looked a bit like Vince Vaughn. It was the tiniest picture possible. I appreciated the picture. and the I love you at the end of the email.

In the email, he said he wondered how I would be, as a wife. How much I would love him. I was tired, emotionally. I do not have it in my to prove my love to him.

So I wrote him an email. About how I would be as a wife, how I would look at a relationship. It was one of the most honest emails that I have written. And no reply till now.

In the early days of our courtship, he told me that he would let me know if and when he feel that this is not going to work. Um hello, a bit of help here?

I want to write to him, telling him how much I miss him. I want to tell him to tell me why he is not replying, whether he wants to call off the whole thing. I want to tell him, looking at his eyes, that I love him.

But I love myself too. And naive as I am, rosey eyed as I am, I know that loving a man who does not trust me enough to give me his real name is going to end up in grief for me.

So I have stopped emailing him. But each time I get a mail notification, I hope it is from him. Each day, I hope a little less. A teeny meeny mite less.

I always thought I would end up alone, that a family life is somehow denied to me. I had made peace with that fact and looked forward to a happily single life. And then he came along. why could you not leave me alone? why did you want to make me dream?

Idiot.

I should do whatever you want because you are an invalid

Sam was who had convinced me to sign off from the online 'meet new people' world.

I think of myself as a pretty straightforward person. However, the one place where I delude myself is the online dating scene. I think dating online is little better than an arranged marriage - with no chance of romance. But it is good as an ego booster. Very good. Anything thats let others judge you mostly on the basis of your best picture is an ego booster, right?

So, when facebook had one of the nifty applications for meeting people, I added it. Trust me, it is really an ego boost to see how many cute looking dudes have clicked 'Yes' on my picture. The makers of the application very smartly did not add the option to see how many people clicked 'No' on you. MuJo did not really like clicking 'No' on everyone, but BiJo happily abused the 'No' button to the extreme that it went on vacation, and reincarnated as 'May be Later' to BJ's disgust and MJ's relief.

That was where she met Sam. Now, Sam posted his profile pic as one in a group of three. And he had clicked Yes on her. MJ was too shy, BJ was too egotistic and I was too lazy to go and browse the male profiles. BJ sniggered. "He's the ugly one."

I was cautious: "Well, hard to say who is good looking and who is ugly - the snap is taken from a mile away - and without a telescopic lense."

BJ said, after careful consideration: " Dudes! when was the last time a cute guy posted a picture of his in a public forum where he was the most good looking of the lot? The good looking ones always, always have single person pictures."

MJ was full of human kindness: "Well gals... look at it this way... this guy is on a wheelchair."

"Hard to say. Like I said, who took this crap shot?" I love photography, and hate badly shot snaps.

"Probably thats what the guy wanted. Take a crapo shot, surround himself with better looking friends, and may be some idiot will click yes."

"Pretty sad... and anyway, no guy ever has take things beyond clicking yes. Finnish men seem to be..."

"...afraid of women."

"I was thinking of shy." MJ sounded wounded.

"Oh whatever. Click yes and make his day. He probably wont respond." BJ conceded.

Exactly 12 hours later, I got an email from Facebook, or more precisely, Sam. The gist of the message was as follows:

1. I am on a wheelchair
2. Hi beautiful, I'm Sam
3. I am on a wheelchair
4. Down woman! Keep your virtual hands off me! Lets take things slow and keep things casual!
5. I am on a wheelchair
6. Lets meet this weekend.
7. I am on a wheelchair

I thought the beautiful line was lame and the rest of it sounded like I shouldn't be meeting him. MJ thought it was unimaginative and boring. BJ was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard at the line, at the fact that he seemed to think Jo wanted to do him.

We know invalid people who are much more fun than people without disabilities. This guy sucks. Let's not meet him." we girls decided.

I talked about Sam over lunch to Benny. Benny, bless her own mushy heart, wanted me to meet Sam.

"Just once. Then you can tell him that you just want to be friends, or nothing."

And thus, the following weekend I sit alone in one of the busiest coffee shops. The guy is late. by 45 minutes. I had finished the smoothie and her book. I send an sms saying I am leaving, and gets one back saying that he is at the shop already.

1o minutes later, he enters the shop with his caretaker. I think that Benny must meet the caretaker. He is cute, fabulous and is very friendly.

The conversation went as follows:

Sam: Sorry I am late.

BJ: Fuck... this guy is ugly....

MJ: That's so cruel to think! To say! I think we must be even ready to kiss him if he wants to.

BJ & I: Drop down MJ!

I: I love making friends online. I think internet, as a dating medium sucks big time, but it is really great to make friends.

BJ: Also, tell him how you thought you were meeting his friend, not him.

MJ and Jo: Shhhh!

Sam introduced me to his caretaker, Jonathan from Nigeria. Pleasanteries all around. I get a call from Benny, excuses myself and calls Benny back. After trying to fight with both Benny and MJ, I give up and agree to invite Sam and his caretaker to the grill that the girls have organized.

As a meeting friends event, it was ok. Jonathan was nice, friendly and relaxed. Sam whined, talked a lot about his disability and ordered Jonathan around.

Benny and me tuned out Sam. I was happy in a perverse way, seeing Benny try her best not to snap at Sam for being all British overlordy to Jonathan.

And that was it - they thought. Pleasant goodbyes, and promises of tying to get together sometime.

But no, Sam had to open his mouth: "You may not see Jonathan too much. I will move him during weekdays. On weekends, I will have a female caretaker. And this weekend I am having a party, and Jo, I invite you."

Awkward.... it was Benny who invited him to the grill, not me, and Jonathan was being snubbed big time.

"Sorry dude, already have plans for weekend." I say.

Two days later, I get a call from him. When I was making love to Tony Stark. Ok, it was in a movie theater, and the rest of the women were also doing the same while the men crushed on Iron Man. Thanking the moment when I put the phone on silent ( I was expecting a work call at around 9pm) the call is rejected, with a little glee.

After the movie, I wonder if I should call back. It is 20 minutes after the time I got his call. It is 930pm. Isnt it a bit late? But I still do, reasoning that if it was any other friend, I would have.

Sam picks up the phone, and tries to convince me to keep everything casual. Not to be so damn impatient. And invites me home for a late night movie date.

I decline. And say my goodbyes and hang up. I dont think I could have been civil for much later.

And now I wonder:

1. How can giving a call back be wanting to jump his bones? I can be pretty wanting to jump your bones and be obsessed about a man, but not with this guy. That happens when I am wooed with words, words which make me want to purr like a cat and wrap myself around the man. Didnt happen here. Nach.

2. Why did I stand up for jerky behavior just because this guy was an invalid? I know. Its because I am a huge softie. Its not a very admirable trait.And that leads to getting ass kicked.

Now, there are two tangents here: One is about the men who made me purr with their words, the other is about the times when I was a softie. I guess I will deal with the softie part first.