Badgered into updating my blog again, I am back to regale my fiercest and loyal readers. Thank you again for making me realize that life can get shitty but unless you blog about it, you don’t appreciate how ridiculously insane or hilarious it can get. And last year was pretty high up on the ridiculously insane-o-meter. Contrary to popular belief, I did date outside my race. I was never opposed to it but I made a more pointed effort to going out and exploring the non-brown side. There was the Filipino American who I trudged to meet after a blizzard hit the city. I was more excited about the Italian coffee shop I had heard so much about. Needless to say, the hazelnut cappuccino did not disappoint. As for the date.. sigh. Then there was the WASPy defense contractor who was on a liquid diet. Not a good start to any relationship. There was the Irish Catholic linguist who spoke eight languages but could not communicate in real life. And finally, the African American lawyer who I shall never forget for being so terribly, errm, compliant? My happily married friends cheered me on. “If you don’t have an affair when you’re single, when will you?!” Indeed. I could be detached and think like a man. But I listened to the feeling at the pit of my stomach: Get the Hell Out of Dodge.
And there I was like proverbial driftwood. Until someone conned me into thinking I didn’t have to be alone. I could be with him and I could be happy. Aren’t we all suckers for emotional BS? So there was some happiness, and it was somewhat due to him. But the euphoria didn’t last long. This chap, let’s just call him, The Jerk, was dishonest about something so incredibly precious in his life, it was a wonder he sustained any of his previous relationships. After a solo and liberating Euro vacation, I came back with the heavy burden of making my first grown-up relationship decision. It was time to say goodbye.
I barely had time to recover when I was cajoled into a set up through some mutual friends. The sales pitch was to the point: “If you are looking for a wonderful husband and father, this is the guy for you. If you want the most amazing lover, then not so much.” [PS: Next time any of your friends say this to describe you, just kill them.] After hemming and hawing for a bit, I shrugged and said why not. It’s not like I was busy knitting cardigans. He seemed a bit too eager to please and indeed, was a complete gentleman. In fact, so much so, we never even held hands during our brief interlude together. But I appreciated his honesty and sincerity, traits that are surely in short measure these days. I was rolling up my sleeves to work on the other not-so-appealing aspects of this potential partnership. But before I got to that, The Disappearing Act, shall we say, went missing for 2 weeks. No calls, no emails, no nothing. I finally found out through his friend he was occupied with a severe case of the winter blues. Not that I drove him to it. But it was time to say adieu, yet again.
So there you have it, my personal life up to speed: Whereas, The Jerk, in spite of his negative traits, was still a great communicator, The Disappearing Act made communication an uphill struggle in spite of his positive traits. Oh yes, and they were both Indian, in case it mattered... And now I shall take a hiatus from dating, but I promise to post more non-dating adventures soon!
