I met him at an event I was hosting. The growing crowds and reactions told me I was doing well. It was welcome respite from the morning’s fight, a common occurrence in the horror story I was living inside.
I was aware of him through the whole day, even as I juggled conversations and thoughts, feeling the headiness of a juggler who knows she’s good at it. He stayed in the corner of my vision, never intrusive, his questions informing the direction of my talk and my secret thrill at being understood powering me on. Then he stopped mid-question and said, “Sorry, I feel like I’m monopolizing your time.” That’s when I realised I wasn’t humming a solo.
When the event ended, I turned my back, willing myself down from the day’s high, steeling myself to return to hell. I turned again when I thought everyone had left. He hadn’t. He was moving to the exit, very deliberately not looking at me. He paused and said, “I feel like an Irish coffee. Do you feel like having Irish coffee?” That is the moment I want to pause. It contains so many layers. The climax of the day’s dance with words and looks. The culmination of things felt and not yet named. The promise of…well, just promise.
I saw him recently, our first interaction in many years. He’s married and a father. He looks happy. Still does. They all do.
It doesn’t bring me comfort or insight to think about how things are meant to be. I focus on the thought that something nice existed for one proming moment. That someone saw the possibility of attraction in my wit, my ideas and my personality rather than in what I could do for them or how I could make them look. It’s nice.
Are you wondering what happened back then? I told him, “No. I have to get back to my boyfriend.” And I went back to a man who hit me, abused me and told me it was all my fault. I didn’t succumb to temptation. I did The Right Thing. I always do because I never want to look back in regret. The thing is, I don’t know if doing the right thing and avoiding regret have anything to do with each other.
I was Youtube surfing when an 80s playlist came up with an Amrita Singh song. It made me want to read, listen, watch and know more about her relationship with Saif Ali Khan. And why not? I am an older woman who was in a committed (and what I thought for awhile, was loving) relationship with a younger man. I was an established professional in a field that he had just entered awhile earlier. And I had already achieved the things one tends to want and moved on to something else. These are the kind of things people usually wonder about when it comes to a relationship of this sort.
I’m finding this episode of Rendezvous with Simi Garewal rather interesting. It was shot in 1999, right in the middle of their relationship.
Amrita and Saif both talk about the concerns (expressed by everyone else) on Saif getting married at 21. Saif says,
“If you’re looking for reasons to stay in a relationship, there are a thousand. If you’re looking for reasons to get out of one, there are a thousand.”
That really struck a chord. I know my Mr.Everyday really, really did not want to fall in love, did not want a relationship and did not want to get married. But it happened. I didn’t push it, I truly didn’t. I was the one to say, let’s take some time to think about it. He was the one to suggest getting engaged if we were together in a year, the one to say let’s do this, the one to propose. At the worst of times between when we discussed marriage with our families and the time he actually proposed (eight months later), I held back my fears, my feelings because I thought he needed time. And I wanted to be sure that it came from him. Not out of ego but because I knew there was ample space for the relationship to turn into a bitter war of “You dragged me into this, you coerced me, you pushed me into commitment before I was ready.” He was the younger one after all and the man. These are things one comes to expect from men, from younger people and well, I recognized those behaviors from my own in my earlier years.
I wrote last week about missing respect in my recent relationships and realising that from meeting one man with whom I’ve had a happy, mutually respectful relationship. I’ve been told often that I get stuck in the past and that I refuse to move on. Maybe that’s true. But I am also realising that I’m the kind of person who needs to process and live through every drop of what happens, especially things as deep as relationships, in order to move on. Maybe the reason my relationship with that first boyfriend is so peaceful is because we acknowledged that there was affection (still is) and that there were differences and that it was best we transitioned from the relationship label we had (boyfriend-girlfriend) to a new one.
I think I keep boomeranging between extreme venom and tenderness towards Mr.Everyday because everything is unresolved. I know we had issues and the magnitude of many of them is overwhelming. But I have no real idea why it ended when it ended and how it ended. We have also not been able to have an adult resolution by which I mean, accepting that there was love and fondness once and it isn’t anymore. All I’m left with is a lot of ugly question marks.
Question marks can be ugly when they’re leering at you saying ‘He never really loved you’, ‘It was all just a joke to him’, ‘You suck; you’re a horrible person and men will always treat you that way’. Resolutions are important precisely because they give you and the other person the space, freedom and ability to lay those doubts to rest and move on. Else, there is just an endless echo chamber in your head which is always going to reflect back the nastiest memories and most brutal things you said and did to each other.
I learned recently that he is back in town and the thought hit me with absolute panic. Why? He is not a stalker. I do not want to be with him anymore so I can’t put it down to that nervous feeling of being near someone I haven’t gotten over. But I really don’t know how to behave when he’s around. Act normal? What is normal? I’ve smiled like a lovestruck idiot at him. I’ve thrown things across the room at him. I’ve argued politics, film, books and life with him. I’ve discussed grocery bills, medical expenses and maid problems with him. I’ve made love to him and I’ve fallen asleep next to him, before him, after him. I’ve cleaned him up and mopped up his puke after a drunken night (and he’s done the same for me). I’ve yelled and said and written angry things about him and to him. There is a staggering range of what constitutes ‘normal’ between us. Where is our new normal?
I don’t know and I am not able to find a satisfactory answer to that on my own. A healthy resolution really, really needs both people for it to happen. And this relationship, as with a number of other messy ones in the earlier past, has me left holding the baby. Only it’s an ugly, dead baby that neither of us wants and it died because neither of us wanted it. I just wish he’d do me the courtesy of giving it a proper burial. Ugly or otherwise, we created that together and it deserves a funeral.
We met for coffee recently. He was my first boyfriend and I, his first girlfriend. We were both 19 when we met and it was instant him-and-me at first sight. We’ve kept in touch and we catch up for a coffee and a chat on each other’s lives every couple of years. We’re exactly the same age, just a day apart. Each time we meet, we have a few more life milestones to talk about. So each conversation marks a checkpoint for me, on how far I’ve come, how my life has diverged and turned but stayed true to who I am (which I continue to discover with each turn).
He is charming but in an easy, non-agenda based way. And it’s easy to be around him. Each time we speak, I feel like he sees me as who I really am, beneath all the trappings and notions I’ve acquired over the years, because that core essence never really changes. It would probably seem more sensible to call him an old friend rather than an ex-boyfriend since he has been more of the former than the latter. And given that the term ‘ex-boyfriend’ comes loaded (especially in my recent experience) with associations of angst and pain and unpleasantness, it doesn’t seem like it fits on him.
But perhaps for that very reason, I choose to hold on to that label for him. It makes me feel a little soothed from the toxicity of my love life — the manipulation, confusion, betrayal and mayhem that ‘love’ brought me, since him. It’s always pleasant to remember that I did have — do have — one man in my life with whom romance happened minus poison.
One of the things we spoke about was the way our love lives shaped up. I guess that’s part of turning 35 (since we didn’t meet last year), this stock-taking of life. In between laughs and onion rings, I told him that I had at some time, dated two classmates. Usually I pause for effect and then clarify that both men knew and each time the guy asked me out. This time, I just said, “Not together.”
He said, “I know. You’re not capable of doing that. It’s just not possible for you. You would be in much more pain than either guy in that situation. That’s how I know you’d never do that.”
This pleased me so much. It still pleases me. I love having someone in my life who knows and believes this about me and it makes me realise what a thorny, paranoid world I live in. I also know that loyalty and fidelity are very important to him and it makes me feel very good that he respects me, on that account.
This pleasant sensation felt unfamiliar till I realised that I haven’t cared about a man’s respect in a very long time. I would feel pained if I thought he didn’t trust or respect me. His opinion of me, matters to me. And I haven’t felt that way about a man, a romantic partner in a very long time.
Along with this came the realisation that respect has no currency in my relationships now. The people I went out with after him, did not care whether I respected them or not. It did not bother them that I thought badly of them afterwards, unless it caused problems in their daily lives. And since I have never really been the vindictive sort, my low opinions of them stayed just that — inconveniences that they shrugged off. That disregard and complete indifference to my respect really hurt. I realised that my respect held no value for the men I was around. They literally didn’t give a damn whether I thought of them as good people or bad.
For many years it was very important to me that the people in my life, even those who were once a part of it and not anymore, knew that I did right by them. In recent times, I’ve come to not care about it. I don’t think my last ex (the one I was engaged to) cares a bit about whether I cheated, whether I lied or whether I maliciously did harm by him or not. Would it matter to me if I discovered he had done any of these? I know already that there was lying and there may have been some semantic cheating. Simply for my own peace of mind, I will myself to not care. This means I must also stop caring about who he thinks I am. And that is how respect loses currency in relationships between people.
The magnitude of this realisation was staggering. Now, I approach men, especially those with whom there is even the slightest romantic context, by first putting respect out of the equation. I will myself to not care about what they think of me with such platitudes like ‘there’s only one thing they’re all thinking about and I’m covered on that front’. I don’t allow a man the right to assess me on things other than appearance or frivolous things like achievement, success and vivacity. But on character, I don’t let it even come into the conversation.
And in turn, I am quick to throw my own respect out of the situation. I practically pore over a man’s character in a bid to find flaws and reasons to not respect him, the person, anymore. It feels easier to not respect a person at all than to respect them and be disappointed — and worse, realise they don’t care.
I don’t really know where I go with this insight. Knowledge of what is, doesn’t give you the ability to change what is. There is plenty to prove that my way of doing things keeps me safe. After all, a staggering majority of men I know see me as a collection of visually appealing bits & bobs that could give them something they want. The minute the possibility of that diminishes, most of them lose interest and don’t care to even pursue a conversation, let alone treat me with courtesy or respect. Why should my respect even be allowed to them, when they don’t care either way?
But then I put my onion ring down and I look at the man across the table from me. Once I thought I loved him and that he loved me. I’ve known love to be cruel, selfish, controlling and untrustworthy and he has been none of those things. But in a single conversation with him, I feel the kind of peaceful serenity that I have never felt with the other men who have been in my life. Mutual respect must have something to do with that. It’s very tiring holding it back and having it withheld. I don’t know whether it’s better to be exhausted and safe or whatever the alternative to that is.
Ever had this pop up on your screen?
Scroll back to check.
Look at how many people ‘liked’.
Hover uncertainly over ‘View Comments’, then decide not to.
Visit profile page to see when this happened & what happened after.
Hover over ‘Like’ and decide against because it’ll mean notifications for the next 2 weeks. Not sure if this needs to be shoved into the face every day.
You may have broken up ages ago. You may have had closure & moved on to things that are themselves ancient history now.
You may not be in love anymore. You may never have been in love, even back then.
You may be in a relationship yourself. Or single and thankful for it.
It doesn’t matter. This will make you stop dead in your tracks and cause the breath to catch in your throat even if it is for the teensiest fraction of a second. No one saw the expression on your face. Not even a telltale blush or flush or gasp. But a tiny plop sounded inside you and you heard it. I know you did.
Every relationship, no matter how brief, how shallow, however fleeting is an opportunity, a little dirt track that could lead somewhere. It could take you to great sex, a wonderful friendship, that much-needed ego massage, fun for a weekend or a vacation or happily ever after (whatever that means to you). It’s a path that you considered once, when it opened up before you. Maybe you even took a few steps down that road. Even if you walked back or away, the road was there at some point of time for you. The message you just saw above, which made you stop in your tracks signifies that road has shut down permanently. Houseful, we have no more room, we don’t want any more, thank you very much. You may have a thousand other options but losing even one, especially one that you did consider once upon a time, will leave its mark on you.
Then there is this thing that women have about Plan B. I say women, since I’ve never really heard a man use the phrase. Perhaps men do it too, only they call it different things or (characteristic to men), they don’t think about it. But it exists. My best friend once told me,
“If you’re still looking, you’re not really committed.”
I don’t think it’s quite as simple as that. There’s no question in my mind about who the most important person in my life, right now. But that doesn’t mean other people who were once important, cease to exist altogether. Friends who’ve been married and happily, steadily, comfortably so, report the same feeling.
It’s a strange blend of nostalgia, comparisons, smugness & wistfulness, laced with just a hint of pinprick pain. There ought to be a word for it. I suppose the Portugeuse ‘Saudade‘ comes closer than any other word but it doesn’t completely describe it.
I know this and I even know the train of words that went through your head right after you saw it. Maybe you even said most of them.
Good for them.
Isn’t it kind of early?
I’m happy they found happiness with somebody.
How did they meet?
When is the wedding?
(Add sarcastic/bored/snide tone if your relationship with them was rocky)
And all of them were true. But they don’t negate that inexplicable place in your throat where you’re not able to swallow, that funny leap in your stomach that’s got nothing to do with what you ate and the words that come out of your mouth, sounding at odds with what you’re feeling inside.
I know. We all do.
I read an article which touched a raw nerve. The article had tips on how to break-up while avoiding the discomfort of the whole process. Now, having gone through this so very many times, I can attest to the fact that practice does not make perfect. There is no easy way to dump someone or get dumped for that matter. In either case you look bad. It is uncomfortable for both parties.
That should perhaps be one’s solace, that no one is the ‘winner’ in this. It’s a relationship that needs termination, not a race or a war – at least I hope it hasn’t reached that stage. Even in the worst, most unpleasant situations, try and remember that there must have been some nice moments with the person. That’s probably preachy and I can’t live up to that always, myself, so I’ll try another tack.
Speaking out of pure practical intent, if it’s over, the person and the relationship do not deserve any more time and attention invested in them. Make a clean break, it is really the simplest thing to do. Elaborate farces, heavy emotional drama all of them take their toll…or at very least require you to do SOMETHING…anything.
And finally I think anybody who has been close to you, even briefly deserves the dignity of the truth, at least. Leaving a person with empty questions is consigning a shitload of emotional baggage to their lot. Maybe that’s what you want after how they’ve made you feel…but really, how much do you gain over making a person think of you everyday, badly? I’d rather they don’t think of me at all than think of me maliciously.
Don’t bother with the blame-game (how does it matter who is responsible anyway? Believe me you’re going to feel just as shitty about it, whether you acknowledge it or not). And honestly, honestly it does not matter who actually verbalises it, partings are generally painful anyway.
As for how they are going to react, if you’re breaking up with them, why should it matter anymore? I tell myself that…and yes, I’m a person who can’t handle other people’s emotional scenes and tears. They are responsible for their behaviour but you are responsible for yours.
I’m all for a clean break, the simple truth, served up direct without frills.
Being at peace with yourself is often a function of how cleanly you’ve lived your choices. Think of all that, the next time you need to call a halt to a relationship.
Saxy darrrleeeng has tagged me first thing Monday morning to spill my deep, dark secrets. Now this follows a discussion with a certain ‘friend’ who thinks I’m too open and should learn to mask my emotions. My reply was that people who read my blog knew me anyway so what was the point?
Anyway, perhaps you don’t know me ALL that well. I’m taking this tag up on XXFactor because this post is going to be about my secrets relating to that area of my life I write most about on this blog….MEN!
Five secrets about men in my life:
1. The best friend of my boyfriend was in love with me. My boyfriend would send him over to talk to me for love advice and sometimes to keep me company when he was late. The best friend in question was also a highly intelligent, exceptionally perceptive man and it was a privelege to be his friend even. When he told me that he was in love with me, I said, “I know.” He didn’t ever tell my boyfriend and I didn’t either. But often I think he cared for me much more than my boyfriend did.
2. While I’ve always believed and preached that one should keep one’s personal and professional life apart, one of my boyfriends was indeed a colleague. It wasn’t a bad experience and it certainly wasn’t the reason for my belief. I don’t miss him and I wouldn’t do it again but I’m glad he happened to me anyway.
3. I was deeply attracted to a classmate. Then my best friend saw him and fell head over heels for him. I played Cupid and they were in a relationship for three years after that. I never told her that. Not even the fact that I’d caught him checking me out, when he thought I wasn’t looking, several times, after they started dating.
4. Someone proposed to me 3 years after we broke up and one month before he got engaged to his then-girlfriend. The only reason I didn’t even consider it is because I wouldn’t recycle a boyfriend. I’ve often wondered what life would have been like, if I had.
5. I think I’m deeply loyal to my friends, even more than to the men I date. But I had a brief fling with someone who was a very close friend. When it didn’t go beyond what I wanted, I cut off from him completely, even when he came back to ask me to reconsider. I just didn’t need him anymore.
Incidently, I’m not ashamed of any of these secrets. The reason they are secrets is because the people and emotions involved were all special in ways that can’t be explained in the framework of traditional relationships.
What I want in my Christmas stocking this year…
I met the love that healed me this week. Ours was a relationship that was never defined and yet had oh, so much more depth and emotion than all those by-the-book love/friendship/boyfriend-girlfriend things did. And yet, we’d come close, so close it was like being in love. And then abruptly part, though never with any animosity. And funnily enough, never miss the other. Once in a way, one of us would (and still does) feel the urge to see the other. And that person would make the call “I was thinking of you. Will you meet me?” to the always response of “Absolutely, I’ve been missing you too. ”
If I ever wondered why, this conversation may have had some answers. Some snippets…
“Your dad is amazing. I can really see him the role of my father-in-law. Though, I can’t see you in the role of my wife quite as easily.”
“You know, I can look at some women and say wow, what a fantastic butt! What great tits! I can’t look at you and think that way. Not that I’m saying you don’t have a fantastic butt and great tits”
But it appeases my vanity rather than injure it because its just minutes after…..
“You’re looking good, da. Its so good to see you again.”
Oh, and I have to add, amongst various things we discussed the current state of our love lives. He tells me he’s been dating the ex-wife of one of his good friends and its kind of awkward but not too bad. I hmm-ed at that and told him that I’ve been seeing a lot of someone recently too. And he has gone out with his ex- and her boyfriend (who was at one point of time, her ex- while he was her boyfriend). That should have made us both laugh, but instead, it makes us both smile reflectively.
I tell him about all the writing I’ve been doing…. the office newsletter, the shift to WordPress and also about a post when I mentioned him recently. He just pats my head and says, “You’re welcome”.
Then I talk to him about people at work and tell I’ve been trying to set up one of my colleagues with him. He laughs and said, “Oh yeah? I hope you didn’t make her expect Adonis.” I poke him in the ribs and say, “No, I told her you were this good-looking, really nice guy, with a good job and several hobbies. To which she wanted to know why I wasn’t dating you instead” He snorts at that and says, “What rubbish. I have a nice face, I know but I am too flabby.” And then he orders another beer.
Of course he doesn’t ask what I replied to her question. But we have an argument over what women find really attractive in a man. As always, he puts forth his theories in concise, structured statements like “No matter what you look like, when you’re in bed, you want someone who is as perfect as you can get.” I run amok over all such things, throwing out random statistics like “That’s because men are visual and women are more verbal. Its not so much what a man’s body is like, as what he does with it.”
He never believes me of course. And I won’t back down my point either. Oh well, whatever…just so long as I can hug him when I feel like it. In a lifetime of relationships that range from bitter chocolate to arsenic, he is like a glass of clear, cool water. Cleansing, clarifying and healing.
Does anyone know what the best ‘ex’ policy is? I admire…no, I am deeply envious of those enlightened souls who are ‘great friends’ with their exes. They’ve obviously got it all figured out just great and I haven’t reached my Bodhi tree as yet. I am struggling, as yet in vain, to define just how to deal with that increasing species called ex-boyfriends. (Here and here are some previous attempts)
My trouble these days seems to be too-fast exes rather than just too-many! Well…that too but mostly I’m alarmed now by the rising conversion rate of boyfriend/consistent date to ex. I was born finicky but I seem to have just turned fussy now. Hence, having concluded that men in general, have only one head that can actually be put to any use, my super-high standards of dating are crumbling. But after awhile, I can’t pretend my interest remains nor that my patience stays constant.
Which brings us to the issue of the ever so sensitive, ex-policy. Now a guy I recently dated said that he was great friends with all his exes. I retorted, “well, you don’t know me as yet.”…ah, I was being peevish but I don’t like being clubbed into one junta-group like that. Then I said, “I have a different equation with each person I’ve dated and that’s because I was a different person with of them.”
Which is all very fine, but each one takes up even more effort than the relationship/dating schedules did. For starters we have the relationship issues, differences and incompatibility in the starring roles of BIG HURDLES to being friends. Spice that liberally with any fights, verbal arrows that would have been thrown and you have a masaledaar creation that’s not going down with any amount of antacid. Okay, fine, some people have amicable break-ups. Everyone isn’t a melodrama queen like me, perhaps (oh, but how??). Then we get to how to face someone who’s seen a side of you that the rest of the world doesn’t?
I think my biggest shame in meeting the ex-love of my life was the memory of an extremely sappy (and scorching) love letter I had written to him on his birthday….which of course he refused to return or destroy….gave me a good enough reason to let me go of him at least and there you are. (But oh how mortifying!!! I hope I never see him again….)
Then there are the more obvious and twenty times more mortifying incidents. I had a day that started off just fine till I bumped into someone I’d ‘politely declined’ after a few weeks. Which is fine, since we hadn’t discussed it too much since then. And then he remarked that I must have had a rocking weekend. I wondered what he was on about till I realized in the rush to get out of the house, I hadn’t had a proper stab at my make-up as yet. If he’d been a part of the Master card ad, it probably would have read
Weekend alone spent on DVDs: 700
Getting there early: 1000
New shoes after losing old ones trudging through mud on a rainy day: 3000
Spotting the hickey before she does: PRICELESS
I so much wish I could have wiped that smirk off his face. Well….then again…
Knowing who was really responsible and it certainly wasn’t YOU!!!”: ABSOLUTELY PRICELESS
Smirk smirk….I think I’ll stick to being the catty ex.
I kept a diary for 4 years till I transitioned into blogging all my thoughts.
I have still kept those diaries though and once in a while I look through to see what life was like then.
Some exerpts from my last diary that I called ‘A walk back into reality’:
5 September 2004
1. I think my boss hates me.
2. Dad is back and in a foul mood.
3. Spoke to J, today and yesterday
No. 3 is the least important or urgent but it is the only positive one, though P won’t agree! He…oh well…is yet another confused, scared of emotions, mooning-over-the-ex guy…so typical of the sort of man I always fall for. Of course he jolly well MAY hurt me and of course I WILL put up with it…but really what can I do?????
Hmph….so much for ‘a walk back into reality’.
I was right in more ways than one.
8 September 2004
Got a call from Delhi. Mama needs surgery for an ‘aggressive ulcer’ in his stomach.
Yesterday X said, “People never know what you’ll change into.
If you were to tell me that you were in love with two guys, I’d argue and say you could date 2 guys but only be in love with one.
But deep down, I’d wonder if you weren’t capable of that too.”
Am I that good an actress? Am I that transparent?
Mama died on 20 August 2005. The ‘aggressive ulcer’ turned out to be malignant cancer that escaped his stomach and eventually killed him. If he hadn’t had the surgery we would never have known and without the chemotherapy, he would have spent his last days doing yoga each morning, teaching his daughter history, travelling to work and back with samosas in the evening, watching TV, eating his fill and sleeping soundly. Just like every other day of his life. The treatment extended his life by eight months, spent in and out of hospitals, insurance offices, support groups and finally the crematorium.‘X’ is the ex-boyfriend, ex-love-of-my-life, ex-best friend. If being let down was bad, these words were the final cut. I’ve never been unfaithful or disloyal. Someone who doesn’t realise that after 10 years, doesn’t deserve any part of my life or me.
It was a walk back into reality after all.