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.
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.
If pop culture reflects the mood of the people, this generation is quite high on an oestrogen-and-botox laced cocktail. SATCmania is a phenomenon. I know I said I didn’t like the book much. The first movie was quite bad. Even the TV series that spawned the wave of hysteria petered out in a rather disappointing way (Alexsander Pietr what?!). I know it’s not smart, it’s not politically correct and yet I stay true.
The second movie is out and hits Indian screens in a few days. I’m queueing up for tickets as soon as they’re available. And this time, I’ve even actively looking for wonderful, fabulous, fashionable friends to go with. We’ll all deck up, wear insensible (and gorgeous) shoes, touch up our make-up every few minutes and scream and oooh in the theatre.
The last time round, there was a collective shriek from urban women worldover while the men struggled for cover. Well, you guys better shield your ears this time round. You’ve been warned. And in case you’re interested, here’s making sense of the phenomenon that has men baffled – Sex And The City!
5. The crazy costumes. SATC proves the premise that fashion is entertainment; humour, drama (even melodrama) and horror! From Miranda’s funny hair to Samantha’s bling skirts to the mother of all fashion screenplays…Carrie Bradshaw herself!
4. Priveleged whining – For the same reasons that a KJo movie is fun, for the same reason hundreds of Indian women tune in to the ‘K’ franchise on TV each day. Credit card overdrafts, catfights, relationship angst. The problems are magnified, too grand to ever happen to such mundane mortals as us and it makes us feel better that even Fabulous has problems.
3. The Old Girls Club. Yes, it’s bitchy, it’s sluttish, it’s venemously anti-male. Okay, modern female bonding rituals are still works in progress. They feel good anyhow.
2. Samantha Jones. She’s the ultimate fantasy. She’s bold, brazen, cares not a whit about what men think, is a great friend and dresses on whim. None of us could actually be her. Most of us have too much of Charlotte (prude) or Miranda (pragmatist) or Carrie (chicken) in us. But that wicked, whimsical streak in us all responds to Sam’s flash. Hooo girl!
1. Habit. The story has been done to death. Big-Aidan-Big-Aidan-Big-Aidan yet again. Gay men are either adorable or bitchy. Friendship lasts forever. Bad ex-es get their dues. Good ex-es come back when you’re getting bored with the current. Yes, yes, yes I know. But think of it this way. You already know the ways a ballgame can end. One side wins or the other or occasionally there’s a tie. And yet you watch each one with rapt attention. It’s sort of like that. It’s a chicklit saga on steroids. We’re hooked and we’re going along till the ride ends.