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Out On Singles Town

Out On Singles Town

Something interesting that happened to me in 2014 was meeting two different guys and deciding NOT to pursue relationships with them. I remember an Ally McBeal episode (does anybody even remember that show?) where she says,

“I don’t actually date, not for the fun of it. I audition potential husbands and if I don’t see any potential, I don’t waste my time.”

This is what I spent my 20s doing. I may have missed out on a few good men but I definitely missed a whole lot of fun. Fun, dating should be that. It’s about meeting a new person, about getting to know them, doing fun things with them and maybe chasing a dream of something nicer. I enjoy all of those things. The trouble with this husband-audition business is that it becomes too much like a work goal and when that happens, fun is the first one to exit the door.

This is not about random hook-ups. I am not that person. As far as I’m concerned there is nothing random about my interest. I value my time and mindspace so why would I want to throw it away on people who actively do not want to matter? The real fun of people is when they are being people with their unrealistic hopes, their politically incorrect desires, their lovable vulnerabilities and their unpredictable flaws. I’m looking for people to experience, not cucumbers.

I’ve done the girlfriending thing several times over and the till-death-do-us-part style partner once (and that probably was ENOUGH). Being the female half of a comitted couple is not fun. It’s about having to put yourself and your relationship into limited roles and explanations that everyone feels able to digest. In my experience, it has been about stifling boredom and disappointment, pretending public approval is enough to make up for squelched fantasies, dealing with neglect and taking-for-granted, trying to live up to ideals of Independent Fabulous Perfect Indian Woman and never pleasing anybody else. Oneself? Ha! Where is there space for me? Nobody wants to know that there is a ME under all those roles and restrictions.

Complaints aside, maybe there is a solution. After I hit 30 and especially after my engagement ended, the pressure to commit to one man has eased. This does have a lot to do with most of those pressuremongers giving up on me. Their snide comments have not just dropped, I’ve become invisible to them. That’s okay. Because beyond their judgemental, oppressive gazes, there is a whole world beyond.

This world is called Singles Town. It’s got good health and glowing skin from waking up early after a good night’s sleep. It’s got turning in early or spending a weekend tucked away with a book. It’s also got daring makeup, on-the-whim clothing and shopping sprees with girlfriends. And yes, it has men. Men who find their attention captivated, who want to have conversations, who want to impress, who want to hear what I’m saying.

These are not bad men. They are not even necessarily the kind of limited men I’ve dated before. They are intelligent, independent, smart and fun. When I stopped mentally measuring their appropriateness, their compatibility with me, their fit with my social circle and a million other things, I discovered how much fun they could be. 2014 has been a year of some very, very fun dates and conversations that went nowhere. And so what? They were fun.

Of the two men, one of them turned mean and the other went flaky after I said thank you but no thank you. Well, they were only human. I think it would have been a lot harder for me to accept these flaws in them, if I had started off thinking of them as potential longterm partners. Instead, because I approached each one just as a new person, it felt a lot easier to let them grow into who they would be in my life. This is such a new notion for me! I didn’t even realise I had the ability to not jump at a man offering commitment, as if he were my last chance at a happy life. To any of you who think I deserve your pity, ask yourself if you feel you would be able to do that? Hmm, I thought so. Well, saying NO to what might have been everlasting happiness, because I want to see if there are other kinds of happiness — that’s a kind of freedom that’s worth more to me.

Yes, I have to worry about my own safety each time I’m out. Yes, I don’t have anyone to care about my health and well-being (well, come to think of it, none of the men I dated ever did, even while I was with them; most Indian men, not trained to think about someone other than themselves, I think). Yes, I don’t know what the future holds for me. But you know what? I wouldn’t know what it did, even if I were in a committed relationship. People lie, they fall out of love, they weaken, they cheat, they die. All kinds of things happen that a commitment cannot insure you from. I’d rather not live my life under a mushroom, fearing storms and floods.

MeMaybe I will regret this. But I don’t think so. I see no point in regretting doing something that seemed like a good idea at the time. That’s the only reason I don’t regret sticking to the straight and narrow through my 20s. That’s what appeared to make sense then. Life is such a mixed bag of tricks coming at you, there isn’t much sense you can make of it, except post facto anyway.

Commitment in all the forms I see around me is limiting. I haven’t yet gotten to a place where I can envision a comittment model that gives me the same inspiration, freedom and joy about the next minute, that being solo does. And what’s more, I know even if it exists, it will need a lot of work and effort to build and sustain. I think I’ve worked really hard for all my adult life at this and I deserve a break.

2015, Singles Town, here I come!

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The Good, The Bad and The Ugly of Connections

I began 2014 fresh from a post-breakup hiatus and feeling ready to go adventuring in matters of the heart again. I don’t have the MARRIAGE agenda looming high over my every interaction and the past is not weighing me down much either. I figured this made for the best possible me to come back into the single playing field.

Now here’s what I find. Like every other aspect of Mumbai life, dating over here is stressful. The big trouble is conflicting agendas. Everyone has one and they are very clear about how they want to achieve it, how to measure its achievement, how much time they want to spend on it and where else they’ll go looking. My result-driven city has made a corporate exercise out of the experience of finding connections!

I identified the model after meeting one particularly focussed specimen (what to do, my professional skills come into play too!). We only met twice. Our first date was at a fancy restaurant, flush with alcohol, good food, uber-cool converations and trading smart retorts. On our second meeting, I suggested doing something non-spectacular, like a walk or just a chat over coffee. He resisted then hung on uncomfortably and finally descended to all the tricks in the book (coaxing, wheedling etc.). And finally, he got nasty when I said NO. Such a pity, he seemed like an intelligent guy that I’d have liked to know better. But his one-mindedness was an instant downer.

From this, I deduce the following popular strategy for date-meetings:

  1. Establish common ground with pop culture references.
  2. Exchange intelligent opinions and cool jokes (internet-dictated).
  3. Meet at a coffeeshop/restaurant/pub in areas like Bandra or South Bombay. (Juhu or Andheri might work for a second date)
  4. SEX.
  5. Do all this while not getting personal, emotional, attached or developing any kind of expectation.

I have no problem with sex, immediate or otherwise. But I’m hard-pressed to find the appeal of this model. I’m not sure which bothers me more — the ritualisation of something that I’d like to be spontaneous or the immediacy with which intimacy is approached and expected.

How about the last item on that agenda? I don’t know how one is to approach the possibility of making a connection while shutting away emotion. And also, if I didn’t have expectations, it would mean that the entire human race was presented to me as one uniform, homogeneous mass. I could pick any one at random, it wouldn’t matter. Which brings me to another person I met.

He alternates between so-good-so-close and we-dont-really-know-each-other. One day, he’s full of witticisms and a ‘you and me against this ridiculous world’ attitude. And then suddenly, he cancels without apology, reacts oddly to being asked if he’d like to hang out or worse, doesn’t even respond.

My friend tells me he’s very likely juggling. I think so too and really, that’s okay. I’m meeting other people myself. But the coldness of these actions makes me feel like I’m one human object of many that’s being shuffled around on his calendar. I have a real problem with this. For one, people do matter to me. From experience I know that being around someone you don’t really connect to, is a hell far worse than being alone. Secondly, you can always sense when the other person does not really feel much for you. And I think I deserve better than to be someone’s ‘random pick from the human race’. I want to be special and I want to treat people special.

Lest this feel like a rant against men today, let me hasten to say that I see this in both sexes but mercifully not in everyone. I met someone a couple of months ago, in a very different profession from mine. But I liked him because he was nice. We meet from time to time. We exchange texts, emails, chats. We enjoy each other’s company when there is an opportunity to. The word ‘date’ has even come up and passed without any awkwardness. We connect, it’s great and that’s all there is to it. So I know it’s possible to do this without the pressure or ugliness of agendas.

I guess it’s not magical unless there are monsters and strange creatures in addition to superheroes.

Because Dating Doesn’t Have To Be Drama & Disasters

The last time I spoke about dating, I was cribbing about Indian men, digital platforms and the world in general. But like the times I rarely speak about, I’m regaining my peace-equilibrium with the world I live in, that fails to please me, on occasion. And as with pizza, beer and brinjals (*aubergines*), I’m learning to enjoy it.

This post by 50DatesInDelhi made me very happy. She clearly had fun. I don’t know this for fact but at least as far as the limited view of her that exists in my life via her blog, she seems to not be overthinking it.

Last week, at an Open Mic, someone forgettable performed a piece that held us spellbound. Manisha verbalised what we were all feeling. And then that person came back to explain why they wrote it, what they were feeling etc. Manisha cut them short with,

“Don’t ruin it.”

Someday I will learn to be as brutally profound as that. But both these instances capture the essential wisdom that seems now in my tenuous reach.

Dating is a way to meet people and form connections. It is an unpredictable, no-results-guaranteed activity. But it is also time spent, pinned on a huge, big hope (whatever that may be for you). Why kill it with agendas that you have no way of ensuring are achieved?

I have actually been going out, between the time I wrote that last post and now. I’ve just not been thinking much about it. What have I been doing? Dinner, drinks, lunch, walk, movie, chat, the usual. Who are these people? They’re just, well, people.

This is not to say that I’m running blindly through men. Indeed, I’m not. I’m too snooty/chronically middle class to go out with just about anybody. Plus, time is everlastingly a constraint in this city and in this life of an identity-juggling sometimes entrepreneur. I have been going out now and then, with people I have found likeable, whose company has been enjoyable. And they’ve stayed that, not turned into fictitious hero figures in my head or co-stars in elaborate real world dramas.

I’ve been having great conversations. With men, with women, with friends, with persons-who-may-become-something-else. There has been laughter, boredom, book talk, awkward moments, romance, disgust, attraction, meanness. And the whole jing-bang has been so much fun.

Yesterday, I found myself in possession of a whole bunch of hours that were not promised to a deliverable, a client, a prospect, a meal, an activity or a friend. It felt like a good time for a bad movie. A message that I sent, got a reply much later. I was on my way to the theatre, anyway. We wasted an hour joking about book titles. Then we sniggered and sarcasmed through a movie that must have been made for just this. And then I came home, had dinner and went to bed. Today was a good day, full of work and feeling at peace because I was well-rested, my laughter glands well nourished and not feeling the weight of worrying about what last evening was supposed to have meant.

Date

I don’t know where I am heading with this. Chronic singledom? A string of meandering non-relationships? I have no idea and for a change, I’m not thinking about it. I’ve tried the relationships models on offer and they didn’t work for me. Maybe the people didn’t but either way, I’m not going to find out by brooding about it.

People can be fun. And that’s a new idea for me. I’m just enjoying it.

Can we please stop calling it ‘dating’ because Indians don’t do that word

holding hands - age 10, and age 8

holding hands – age 10, and age 8 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

No, we don’t.

We claim kinship to members of the opposite sex, exchange gifts on a designated day of the year and occasionally append a ‘bhaiyya’ or ‘didi’ to their names. We hang around in bunches when we’re in college and pretend we’re not specifically there for one person. When Facebook decides that India is a big market, they’ll probably add ‘is rakhi brother/sister of’ to their relationship options.

I’m confused. I straddle two worlds, one that recognizes and lives in the above references. The other whose daily relationship landscape includes hooking up, one-night stands, living in, asking out and multiple relationships. Where does someone who lives in both worlds at once stand and what is our language for it?

This new, urban India I represent, it has an oft-used passport, it’s on Season 6 of HIMYM (even knows what that stands for) and has a favorite browser and smartphone app. But it also has a life that’s kept separate (even secret) from family, consumes Bollywood-bedecked archaic rituals and is petrified of talking about sex (only talking about it, not doing it).

Attraction – should it be acknowledged or not? We can’t say. We’re simultaneously cool and appropriate.

We don’t live under strict rules of interaction with the opposite sex (though many of us were brought up with those in childhood and well into our adolescence). We’re allowed to hang out, even solo and be friends with the opposite sex. But we don’t know how to differentiate between the friendly interactions and the ones with a definite romantic/sexual motive.

I seem to often err on this. I’m friendly and approachable so conversations, interactions and associations abound. Sometimes lines get crossed, motives are misunderstood and feelings are hurt. Relationships and conversations are complex, this is true. But we don’t even have a language for broadly distinguishing what might be what.

We need an India-friendly way of saying “I’m interested in you but if you’re not interested or single, don’t worry, I’m not weird.” Subsequently we’ll also need an India-friendly way of saying, “No, thanks. That’s not possible. But it’s okay. We’re just two human beings and we’re alright.” And until then, ‘friends’ doesn’t cut it and ‘dating’? That’s just plain foreign.

India's Paradox: Thriving Press, Stifling Inte...

India’s Paradox: Thriving Press, Stifling Internet? (Photo credit: World Economic Forum)

The Dating Thing

Let’s do the dating thing.

I’ll ask you out. You’ll respond with a surprising

“Yeah sure, why not?”

I’ll hug myself in glee.

We’ll meet for a coffee that turns into drinks instead because we both got late. A mid-distant, not too noisy, not too intimate cafe that seems perfect, right until we get there. Each of us will get there on time, then wonder if this reeks of desperation. But we’ll greet each other like it’s just another one of the many ordinary things in the day.

As we wait for our order to arrive, we’ll run through the usual list of things slight acquaintances talk about after hello – the weather, the traffic, people we know, your job, my job and again people we know. Then you or I will say or do something incredibly wrong. Can you take the saying wrong part please? I’m rather proud of my words but I have no ego vested in my physical grace. That’s settled then. You can say something slightly sexist, racist, homophobic or politically-incorrect. I’ll trip over my ballerina flats, knock over my glass and fidget on the fake leather cushion, making weird, embarrassing sounds. We’ll each realize it only after it’s been done and be embarrassed but also slightly relieved at the other one’s faux pas. You can charm me by not noticing my clumsiness and I’ll impress you with my cool intelligence as we navigate our way out of embarrassment.

We’ll both settle into the delicious comfort of ‘I-like-this-person-so-much!’ before we realize it’s only a date, not even that, it was only supposed to be coffee. We’ll focus on our drinks-not-coffee for a long minute, hoping to cover up the unmentionable, companionable silence we just shared. This time you can drop the plate while I say something incredibly stupid (“Doesn’t beer taste just like piss?” and that’s what you’re drinking). We’ll both catch each other’s eye and laugh. But it won’t be the same thing. It will be the laugh of,

“Yeah, the same thing.”

Now that we’ve read each other cues correctly, we’ll launch into our next big talkfest as we both try to make sure this isn’t a total waste of time. News, local affairs, sports, books, music and an occasional bit of word play thrown in for good measure. This is supposed to be fun after all and we’ll both be working zealously hard to make sure we’re having it, being it. That should carry us through another 45 minutes or so. We really do get along quite nicely.

When the bill arrives, the waiter will put it down in front of you (they always do in India, no matter who did the ordering). I’ll do the awkward grab and you might do a smooth slip-slide so it’s in your lap and my hand doesn’t go all there (horrors, even I couldn’t be *that* gauche). I’ll gulp and hope you don’t mistake my clumsiness for cheapness so I’ll insist, probably more forcefully than I need to, that I asked you out after all. And in the split second that follows as you hand over your credit card, you’ll look away and we’ll both know, it’s over – the date and everything that was great about it. Because someone pointed out what it was, it stopped being a fun game of emotional hide-and-seek.

When we walk out, you’ll probably not remember to (or want to) hold the door and step aside for me. I’ll frown wondering which it is and try to remember how it was when we walked in. Not that it’s supposed to matter; I’m a liberated woman after all. Still, I’ll wonder.

You’ll turn to me, a fraction too soon for it to be regular, a little too late to be chivalry. And you’ll be searching for the same thing I was, a second ago, that crucial second that we’re now off-sync. You’ll catch my frown as it goes and since it’s not as charming as my smile, you’ll turn away without speaking. As I step up next to you, we’ll look at each other, smiles in place. But no matter, I’m only charming inadvertently. And your aloofness is not looking that hot either.

We’ll say goodbye and look for transport in different directions. But just as I think I’ll never hear from you again, you’ll stick your head out. And then, despite myself, I’ll find myself telling you that I really did have a lovely time. You’ll say,

“Really?”

with an expression that makes me melt in the seconds you never catch because your cab zoomed away.

And that’s how it goes. Magic created and lost in moments, like the sparkles on the sea under the sun. You can’t catch it and you can’t find it, once you know you’re looking for it. But you’re briefly, tantalizingly touched with the power of what might have been, what might still be. And this was just supposed to be coffee, just a dating thing.

English: A photo of a cup of coffee. Esperanto...

English: A photo of a cup of coffee. Esperanto: Taso de kafo. Français : Photo d’une tasse de caffé Español: Taza de café (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Badness Of Good Boys

I have had a startling revelation that will revolutionize the way we look at relationships and well, men!

Everyone knows Bad Boys are bad news. Meh, that’s last century’s news. And yet – or possibly exactly for that reason – we are drawn to them and spend a considerable bit of our prime chasing illusions of acquaintanceship with them. But of course the Bad Boy breaks our heart. That’s what he’s supposed to do. Then we sigh and move on….to another Bad Boy.

The cycle, seemingly fatalistic has one way out – or so we are told. As maturity (or possibly too much heartache) sets in, we shed our illusions of wild, fast, furious, exciting love and pledge our troth to another kind of man altogether. Enter the Good Boy.

From a love-lifetime of having experienced Bad Boys, we automatically conclude that we know his exact opposite completely. NOT TRUE!

The Good Boy is not necessarily Prince Charming, either. He doesn’t get romance and tenderness any more instinctively than the Bad Boy. The Good Boy‘s connection to mama will be elevated to monumental proportions (in that there will be a shrine to mama) while in the case of the Bad Boy, it was only an excuse for his bad behavior.

What’s worse, I’m discovering, there is a price to be paid, a fee if you will, for life’s lessons. So after going through the Bad Boys, you come to the Good Boy expecting to be healed and kissed and made alright.

Instead you come up against a formidable presence that requires your clearing up your messes before you step onto his carpet, so to speak. There’s no sympathy forthcoming (and I’m about to believe this is the version of sulking that Good Boys prefer). It’s time to play hardball (again!) and negotiate.

These aren’t ruthless. Of course not, these are Good Boys after all. But there is negotiation nevertheless. And there’s the overwhelming sense of guilt and foolishness hanging over your own head for your past mistakes. Obviously you’re coming to the table with a weak hand.

I’m thinking the whole thing is a set-up. The Bad Boy is nothing more than marketing spiel to get our defenses dulled and weakened in time for the Good Boy to close in and finalize a deal that’s sweet to him.

GAH!!! Good or bad, a man may never be what he seems.

good boy!

good boy! (Photo credit: Rakka)

Date IITians: Gold-digger meets Pedigreed Pup?

Now here’s something that popped up on my browser window. I don’t know exactly how it came to be there. It may have appeared via an inadvertent click on a Facebook ad or a random link on my populous Twitter stream. I just know I’m going to get some flak on this one but it was so bizarre to me, that I just had to blog about it.

My first reaction was, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME??” As it turned out, they weren’t. Date IITians appears to be a social network/dating website. Here’s a little something that appears as part of the revolving screen.

Someone is waiting for you

You may admire a girl’s curves at the first meeting, but the second meeting shows up new angles.

And it gets better when you go in further:

Its the new era of Online Dating !
Thousands of IITians’/IIMites’/NITians’ profiles.
Make buddies, flirt & date your soulmate.
Develop a long-term relationship.

There is a certain kind of IIT guy that I deplore. I call them Pedigreed Pups and they are defined by nothing more than their degrees. It’s like they’re walking/talking certificates with zero emotional intelligence. But hang on, relationships & dating are about emotional intelligence.

Pedigreed Pups are human males too and to them I ask – is your self-esteem really so low that you have to resort to flashing about your college name to get a girl? Do you really, really think that no girl is ever going to take an interest in you otherwise? That’s really sad, man.

Never mind the sort of men that a tagline like that is bound to attract, what about the girls? What girl in her right mind would consent to being showcased like a piece of delectable meat (curves indeed!)? I’ll tell you – a gold-digger is what.

Since, and only because the IITs are institutions that India prides itself on, because a stamp from them ensure the entire nation’s never-failing respect and admiration, I have a problem. Firstly, does this not sully a strong, respectable brand? Secondly, what does it say about us as a people that we look up to the glorification of such crass values as gold-digging, blind objectification and gender stereotyping?

If IITians are the most intelligent minds in this country, how do they not get this? Or is it too much to hope that this is all a grand parody? They also have a blog, whose delightfully sincere and helpful posts tell me they’re serious. Oh well, different strokes for different folks I suppose. Now you know where to get your ISO certified dates from.

Ten Things Men Should Never Do While Dating

This is an old post, reprised from my archives. Here it is, a few years later but still valid.

~O~O~O~O~O~O

Dating can be a good way to meet a prospective partner. But the process can involve various situations, not all of which are savory experiences. There is a lot of advice available on things that one should do, in preparation of, during and after a date. Even so, people make simple mistakes which put off their date and potentially lose them what could have been a great relationship.

If you are a man, here are a few actions that you should cross off your list and ensure that you never display to your date:

1. Staring at her bust

There is just no excuse for this. A woman might be willing to accept that a random guy on a bus or across the street may do this. She might reason that he has the right to look where he wants. Then remember that she also has the right to mentally strike him off the list of people that she’d ever date. But when she is on a date with you, she don’t have that option anymore. If she’s reasonably polite, she has forgone the option of crossing you off at least till the end of the date. Respect that and don’t treat her like a sex object the very minute you start your date.

 2. Ogling other women

Some men use the excuse of ‘I can’t look at you so I’ll look at others’. Remember that you’re out on a date. That means you and she got together to spend time with each other. Focus on the last three words. One date does not tie you to her but it does warrant the courtesy of your undivided attention, at least.

3. Boasting

Showing off is a natural biological action peculiar to the male species, especially when in the presence of the opposite sex. Animals do it, insects do it and human men do it too. Just don’t go on and on about it. The showing off is a mating ritual among the aforementioned life forms and ceases once the connection has been made. Assume that the connection has been made the minute the date has been accepted. There’s really no reason to go on and on about the number of foreign trips you go on, how earth-shatteringly important you are to your company, how you were having tea last week with the Dalai Lama and how many thousand books you read in the past year. It’s off-putting and most importantly it’s boring. You can safely assume that your date tuned out the minute you started throwing numbers at her.

4. Not listening at all

It’s a conversation. That means both people talk and listen. Talk some, she’ll listen. Then let her talk and you need to do more than stare around the room, ask the waiter for refills and interrupt to talk about the movie you saw. Assume that she can interest you with more than her bust. She could have a sense of humour, an opinion and intelligence too. Give her a chance to show you that too.

5. Calling her names like ‘Babe’, ‘Sweetheart’ or ‘Honeybun’

It’s a first date. She could be your girlfriend but she is not, as yet. The two of you could be friends but you haven’t gotten to that place, right now. Undue familiarity and worse, sexist phrases are instant turn-offs. She has a name; use it. In time, she might permit you to give her a nickname, but at least be original.

6. Playing SuperShrink

You’ve probably heard that women dabble in pop psychology. Maybe she has issues. Everyone does, it’s normal. But don’t put her under a microscope and psycho-analyze her on a date. It’s immensely offensive to tell her that she’s afraid of getting too close to men because of her Electra complex. If you’re a doctor, that’s work during a leisure activity. BORING. If you’re not a doctor, it tells her that you’re just being a creep.

7. Caveating

It’s not cool to be commitment-phobic. Your messy love life and your crazy work schedules are not her concerns. You can go for a movie alone or have lunch on your own if these are true. If this date is happening, it’s because you agreed to it. Don’t waste her time and yours by coming to a date and then talking about why it can’t go further.

8. Bringing other people along

Are you serious? Friends? Parents? Siblings? Colleagues? If it’s a date, it’s between two people. Any more and it’s a party, a group or worse – an orgy. She may not mind meeting big groups of people. But not on a date. You ask people out because you want to spend time with them alone. You accept a date for the same reason. For group dos, you get invited and drop in or not. It’s different. Please get that, it messes things up if you don’t.

9. Self-help style follow throughs

This is important. If the date went well, it’s okay to keep in touch. Strike that, it’s good form, it’s good for you and for her to keep in touch. Please forget what you heard about waiting three days before calling (or whatever it was you learnt in school and college). Those games are for adolescents. Send a text message saying it was fun and you’d like to catch up again. Add her on Facebook. Email or drop her a note. Open a chat window and say hi. There are loads of embarrassment-free ways to say that you liked what you saw and would like to know more.

10. Being a jerk

This is super-critical so listen up: Do everything or anything in point.9 only, repeat ONLY if you are interested in going out again. There’s no easy way to say that it didn’t quite ‘happen’ so just don’t say anything at all. But don’t prolong the agony by keeping up the conversation. You’ve spent some time in each other’s company. If it didn’t work out, there’s no reason to waste any more of each other’s time. You don’t get brownie NiceGuy points for acting interested when you are not.

If the date didn’t go as well as you thought, just tell her so. She may be disappointed but that’s better than being disgusted. And if you’re that terrified of telling the truth, at least wait till the date’s over. Don’t scuttle it with games or lies while it’s in progress. People can always tell. She may not like it but she’ll respect you for honesty.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Also posted to Love Beckons.

Girlfriend Or Single Mum?

I wonder if, at some point in the relationship, a woman feels more like a single mother than a girlfriend/wife. I know I certainly do. And I have one of the good ones. He’s not abusive, he doesn’t cheat, he’s not a male chauvinist. And yet, here I am.

I’ve refrained from talking about my relationship, except in very general terms on this blog. It is after all, a source (and showcase) of my work. It doesn’t feel very professional to do that. But then, my profession as a blogger/writer, is to talk about my personal life and what I draw from the events in it.

Tired WomanHere’s me saying, I’m exhausted. I wasn’t prepared for this. I went through my childhood being groomed to be a good wife and even an adarsh daughter-in-law some day. Along the way, education & exposure added their double-edged knives of modern thought and also high expectations of the opposite sex. I signed up to be a modern girlfriend, an equal partner. Nothing was said about the duties of a babysitter/complaint register/personal secretary/housekeeper/nurse.

There is the kind of pressure that’s obvious, that rams at you like a megaton truck, flattening you in its sheer force. That’s what we ‘modern’ types speak out against, the social stigma attached to a woman’s deviation from the norm, the enforced stereotypes and the over harsh punishment to those who stand out.

Then there’s the kind of pressure that the West has labelled passive-aggressiveness. There are only two people in a relationship. If one shies away from issues, it automatically falls to the other person to handle them. If one partner refuses to acknowledge that there is an issue, it still means that the other person has to deal with it, on top of carrying the elephant in the room.

There is more to life and indeed, a relationship, than having a good time. And when it comes to those routine, mundane realities,  a relationship is supposed to feel like a team. Chores are nobody’s idea of fun. But lapses in performing them signify a bigger problem than is obvious. There’s the chore itself that has to be performed by the other person, in addition to their own. There’s constantly having to look over one’s shoulder, the niggling back-of-mind concern over whether it gets done. And more often than not, when things are not done when they’re supposed to, they get harder. How is all of this not a problem??

If I have to hear, “I’ve had a hard day at work!” one more time, I swear I’m going to scream. Because my day begins the minute I wake up and doesn’t end till I’m ready to drop dead. Most days, even with that, there are things left undone. I don’t get weekends off from managing the house, monitoring the service staff. There are no sick days off from being the subject of everyone’s scrutiny on my dressing, my life choices, my career, my looks and anything else possible. My family and friends don’t recognize ‘I am tired’ as a valid excuse for not being a daughter & friend. Hell, I can barely get away with that even when I’m flowing blood & the hormones are having a party in my head. I’m a woman and that’s my job. It comes with no perks, no respite, no bonuses and no accolades from anybody at all.

The temptation to chuck career, dreams and everything else that it’s possible to, simply to let up the pressure, is overwhelming. But that’s a lose-lose situation. Quit all these things and I lose the right to a strong opinion, the voice of a ‘Modern Woman’.

There are days when I feel like the only way I can stay sane is to assume that I’m with someone who is less than me. That’s the only way I can justify having to take more responsibility, worry more and do more and still care about someone who is neither touched by the same sense of responsibility nor emphatic to my stress. It’s easiest to believe that I’m dealing with a child.

Imagine that. I’m a single mom without ever having been pregnant.

Getting Back Into Dating

As I wait for the divorce to come through (maybe I’ll do a post on the complications of divorce in India someday) friends have started asking,

“So have you started dating again?”

The question used to make me recoil with horror. Because while I am attracted to confident and beautiful women, I don’t feel ready for a relationship. And I really don’t know if I ever will be. A divorced man (and woman) is seen as flawed by members of the opposite sex and society as a a whole.

So I don’t really know what they mean when they ask me if I will start dating again. Do they mean I should start dating other separated and divorced women or women who are spinsters over 35 and are desperate enough to marry a divorced man paying money to his ex-wife for child support?

Uncannily, thanks to Facebook, I have connected with two old female friends (who I have never considered in a romantic way) and discovered that they are separated/divorced – a fact that changed the way I thought of them. Would they be interested? I think not… but my reaction to their relationship status intrigued me.

Then there are single women who want to chat with you – but knowing that they are 12 yrs younger than you makes you cringe as you wonder

“Are they closer in age to my kids than to me?”

When I mentioned this to a 26 yr old her reply was,

“Come on! 38 is not old! Why are you making yourself older than you are?”

Then there are the older women – 33 to 40 yr olds who, after knowing your status, want to meet for a coffee. My previous marriage was a decision based on a month of dating.. and I am now really scared of people in a hurry in relationships (even myself)

As I focus again on a single life – I hope to figure out the changed rules of dating… and will keep you updated

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