tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4541713486602228742024-02-20T07:31:48.991+05:30Tall. Dark. And a waste of time.A blog making light of the trials and tribulations of single women as they meet the so-called eligible men of the world!Ypsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15094259846593103883noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-454171348660222874.post-31210381860696228162016-05-02T14:42:00.000+05:302016-05-02T14:50:12.600+05:30Fatal Attraction <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0B0zhsD-Y94w0O9SPHZQoeqMOBQvQWyelRc8241uoWV5F_TUtN_rdga2tZZYJ4aqbtBqYbqPFCT1bo2HRLRxQte_jh8SuFWeQWN0ZKX9fDNNqY7YzSXqtl3outIt2Pk4zBYlhBpQXG12m/s1600/Couplein-the-cafe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0B0zhsD-Y94w0O9SPHZQoeqMOBQvQWyelRc8241uoWV5F_TUtN_rdga2tZZYJ4aqbtBqYbqPFCT1bo2HRLRxQte_jh8SuFWeQWN0ZKX9fDNNqY7YzSXqtl3outIt2Pk4zBYlhBpQXG12m/s320/Couplein-the-cafe.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There are
times when you end up meeting attractive, VERY ATTRACTIVE people during the
groom hunting process.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I happened to
connect with this guy Vikram (name changed). Yes, another IITian and top B-school
passout, Punjabi, working in the financial sector. Sounded good to begin with.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">His sense of
humour was impeccable and the timing of his one-liners could not have been more
apt. We had a series of conversations over phone. Each conversation made me
feel more connected with him. He had a sarcastic attitude towards life. I quite
liked that, he usually mocked at my conversations. It made me laugh instead of
getting offended. My parents were not happy with me talking to a Punjabi guy.
But, by now my dad knew that it is difficult to find guys in my community. He
simply refused to acknowledge it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My relationship with Vikram took a logical turn. We decided to meet for coffee after work in a
suburban mall. It was planned impromptu because he was supposed to take off on
a trip to Spain the other day. “Wow”, I exclaimed when he revealed his vacation
plans to me. Images of Hrithik Roshan driving in Spain with his buddies flashed
in my mind. I smiled to myself and looked forward to our meeting. I took extra
efforts to dress that morning in charcoal grey well fitted trousers and pink
sleeveless tunic. I added some oomph factor by slipping on a pair of black high
heeled sandals. I glanced at the mirror and saw an elegant and stylish lady.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I reached
the mall at 7.30 pm and he arrived five minutes later. To my surprise he was not good
looking. He had a narrow build, small and squeaky eyes, was dressed in a pair
of denims and a casual blue shirt with a pair of slippers. We settled ourselves
on a comfy sofa in the coffee shop. We had some casual conversations about our
work day, our bosses and the burgeoning mall culture in India. He offered to
get coffee for us. My mind was flooded with past experiences of meeting guys. I
brushed them aside and glanced at Vikram. He smiled at me and my lips curved in
a smile. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What
followed was a series of conversations over 3 cups of coffee. The conversation
just flowed naturally between us. We spoke about anything and everything under
the sun- movies, dates, relationships, personalities, families, corporate life.
I was completely absorbed in this experience. I was enjoying every bit of it.
At some point of time, I felt sexually attracted towards him. I tried to ignore
the tension but it only grew stronger with each passing moment. None of us
bothered to care about the passing hours. I lost track of the people around us.
All I could see was him and all I could hear was us. I was laughing or smiling
at every remark of his.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He was the
first one to be jolted back to reality. He looked around and saw the staff
cleaning and folding tables. Perhaps they sensed our chemistry and granted
extra time to us. He led my gaze towards our surroundings and I shared his
embarrassment. It was 10.45 pm. I hastily looked at my phone to check if my
mother had called. My phone did not display any notifications and I smiled and
thanked God for gifting me with a supportive Mom. I must tell you that Moms <i><b>are</b></i> darlings. They
may not voice their support for your desires or ambitions. But, they secretly
and indirectly support you. My mom wanted me to be happy and that is all she
cared about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There was a
moment of awkward silence as we looked at each other thinking what to do next.
I stood up and picked up my bag and he followed me. We stepped on the escalator
going down. The mall was largely empty. I was standing one step below Vikram
with my body titled towards him and looking at him sideways. I had a strong
urge to hug him and kiss him. This feeling had been dormant for a long time. I
wanted him to grab my arms and sneak me into a corner to make out. <b><i>“Is this a
two-sided feeling?”</i></b> is a question which is still unanswered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He hailed a
rickshaw for me outside the mall. I wanted him to stay and talk to me. With
great efforts, I managed to say, “Have fun and enjoy your vacations, Bye”. He
smiled and said “You take care”. I popped my head out of the rickshaw and said
“Let’s talk once you are back”. Before I could see or hear his reaction, my
rickshaw propelled like a rocket on the empty patch of road before joining the
mainstream traffic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My mind was
racing with thoughts...<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>“How could I
feel sexually attracted?”<o:p></o:p></i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>“Is it
right?”<o:p></o:p></i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>“Would my
date have ended differently if I was in US not in India?” <o:p></o:p></i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>“Is sexual
attraction a good reason to get married?”<o:p></o:p></i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>“Can I go
home and mark Vikram’s row as green in my tracker?”<o:p></o:p></i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>“Will he
remember me in Spain?”</i></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I received a
text from him the other day saying “It was nice meeting you, but I don’t think
we are good for each other”. I wanted to stay connected with him but was not
confident enough to express my desire. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To this
date, his thoughts bring a smile to my face. I don’t know how he feels about
the experience, does he remember me? I have his number on my phone but can’t
gather enough courage to call/message him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>Vikram, if you are
reading this blog and still remember me, please call me. I will love to catch
up with you again in the same coffee shop.</i></b></span></div>
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Ypsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15094259846593103883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-454171348660222874.post-65573041702973845202014-04-08T15:16:00.002+05:302014-04-08T15:16:30.934+05:30It's not gender bashing!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There are barely four posts up there on this blog.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqX9jfbKfzCCVhqJ7PhgMLqAsop3QrXHeYqCZkCbyGmpwCjpr2YneTapZO2fNqdF0o0MmTj_DnycnzcGGK01ISUoq17BhCd5-Qy4L_7ABaoVRAThY_Ziuh1otv8DAi39WtTeVVYa2an5ro/s1600/silhouettes1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqX9jfbKfzCCVhqJ7PhgMLqAsop3QrXHeYqCZkCbyGmpwCjpr2YneTapZO2fNqdF0o0MmTj_DnycnzcGGK01ISUoq17BhCd5-Qy4L_7ABaoVRAThY_Ziuh1otv8DAi39WtTeVVYa2an5ro/s1600/silhouettes1.jpg" height="209" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Of these two are real life narratives from a close friend. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Though edited by me, (</b>sometimes in a state of <i>aghastedness</i>, if there was ever such a word!) I know for a fact that they are real life because they have been narrated to me by close friends from a younger generation!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And as I put it out there I am getting more and more stories in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />And more comments. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />And more <i>aghastedness</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do you have a story to tell? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">About the guy you met who wanted you to work but also wanted you to cook, look after his parents, socialise, be at home by 6 pm (in Mumbai) not travel for work and share in the family expenses? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It's not gender bashing. Yet today's men can be demanding! And totally unrealistic. Let's hold a mirror up to them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Tell me your stories and I'll put them up here for all to see. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And remember, this is fact NOT fiction. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">DISCLAIMER: Once again, I want to reiterate, I DO NOT write these posts Only curate the stories that come to me.</span> </span><br />
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Ypsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15094259846593103883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-454171348660222874.post-88891938203560583152014-03-31T02:50:00.000+05:302014-03-31T02:50:39.116+05:30The perfectly imperfect guy!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZrQcYLC48ySQBYcIG7BwCGZ2eFWknL6rSGhRVrHuqfRUM2ox76JgZJP901AXWFD-Q5uZTIig3pFN6uHdyOE9zbl7rycoVfe8CXVubHYDE69xvoQBka-upl5S0bfwBlua94FMyTI4QX6Hg/s1600/man-profile-picture-male-silhouette-question-mark-head-34444437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZrQcYLC48ySQBYcIG7BwCGZ2eFWknL6rSGhRVrHuqfRUM2ox76JgZJP901AXWFD-Q5uZTIig3pFN6uHdyOE9zbl7rycoVfe8CXVubHYDE69xvoQBka-upl5S0bfwBlua94FMyTI4QX6Hg/s1600/man-profile-picture-male-silhouette-question-mark-head-34444437.jpg" height="200" width="186" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was well settled in my career, enjoying life and still
healing wounds of my broken relationship from college. My parents decided that
it is time for me to get married. Honestly, I was also excited with the idea of
creating a profile on matrimonial site and finding my soul mate. So, after a
few months I got this expression of interest from a guy. He was the perfect guy
according to my parents- same community, MBA from top B school, hi-flying job,
common relatives. There was a sudden wave of thrill in my house. He was like a
Godsent match for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But, reality dawned when the kundali was matched. I was the
so called “Manglik” and he was not. His
mom (Great Indian Mom!!) did not want to risk the son’s life by getting a Manglik
DIL (Daughter-in-law). I think probability of death is higher in car accidents,
bomb blasts and cancer than marrying a
Manglik girl. But, after all she is the “MAA”. Then, the common
relatives had to intervene to encourage her to consult a “Pandit”. Somehow, the
Panditji convinced her that I am not a threat her son’s life (Life Insurance
companies- are you listening? He is a potential sales hire!!).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A meeting was fixed for us by our families in a suburban
mall. I was dressed like a princess by my family. I reached a few minutes
early, checked myself in the mirror and waited for him at the entrance. There
were butterflies in my stomach. Will he be the one? If yes, then will I be
married to him in the coming months? Will there be “love at first sight”? I was
absorbed in my thoughts and was jolted back to reality by the ringing phone. I
answered and was greeted by a deep voice on the other side. He had reached and
was looking for me. I scanned the crowd and spotted one guy on the phone
wearing a brown jacket. I waved and he waved back. We had seen each other’s
picture. I anticipated a warm “hello” with some exchange of playful glances and
a bit of chemistry. If only wishes can be horses…</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm50wmOBKQ0i9RgV0xb52f8xZ41vf_OSw2060NlL77awk0sVCsCLRIH22V_oNIPOoWl7mBmB1RQb4NiL6fVb597fGbNmeRabt282yLKKvtYUewpvDP1vbzKOuQpmLchBI2V41zCasszjVY/s1600/man-and-woman-silhouettes-with-speech-bubbles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm50wmOBKQ0i9RgV0xb52f8xZ41vf_OSw2060NlL77awk0sVCsCLRIH22V_oNIPOoWl7mBmB1RQb4NiL6fVb597fGbNmeRabt282yLKKvtYUewpvDP1vbzKOuQpmLchBI2V41zCasszjVY/s1600/man-and-woman-silhouettes-with-speech-bubbles.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He walked towards me, said “Hello, let us go to the food
court” and walked ahead. I was confused and did not know how to react. I was
expected to follow him. I scurried in the crowd to spot and follow him. He was
marching ahead and I was trying to keep pace with him. (Whatever happened to
the charming and playboy breed?). After a
sprint, we reached the food court and found a table. I will now have chance to
look at him closely and get mesmerized, feel nervous and shy (Ohh- some
addayien and sharmana like the yesteryear’s heroine). “<b><u>You can never kiss him</u></b>” was what my inner voice said when I
stared at him. The puritan in me snapped at the inner voice for being lustful
and for prioritizing physical pleasure over emotional bonding. I made a mental
note to correcting the old adage- Love is not really blind ;-).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He was a short guy with average (Ok, I will be honest,
below-average) looks, narrow squinting eyes and ugly lips. “Ladke ki shakal
nahin, gunnas dekhne chaiye”, my Mom’s word echoed in my ears. I decided to
silence the inner turmoil and focus on the task oops guy at hand. We made some
casual conversations about work, likes, dislikes etc. He was a boring
conversationalist also. I narrated my weekend activities to him and then
eagerly waited for him to share the same. He smiled and replied “I do pretty
much the same” (You Moron- I go for waxing, threading and facials over
weekends. Do you also do the same?). He talked about some complex physics-related book he was reading and went on to describe the theories from the book.
I restrained myself to get up and run from my seat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After some drab conversations, he stood up to get some
refreshments for us. Wait a minute! Is there something wrong with his jacket?
It was unusually tight on his stomach. On closer observation, I realized that
he had a big paunch. Yes, you read it right- <b><u>“A BIG PAUNCH” </u></b>which was almost the size of a big
watermelon. Left alone, I convinced myself that he is the “Perfect Guy and a
Godsent match for me”. I sensed that he was nervous and uncomfortable. I guess
he had also sensed that this conversation was going nowhere and this was not
working for us. He spent a few seconds checking his phone and told me nervously
that one of his friends is here to handover some stuff to him. He needs to
collect it. I said ok. He asked me if I would like to wait. I volunteered to
accompany him hoping that we will come back and continue our conversation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As we reached the ground level of mall, he turned around and
asked me “How will you go home? I can drop you in my car?” I was taken aback- “Go
home?!!! When did we decide to end the meeting? Maybe, he decided in the
elevator. Should he not make me a part of that decision or at least announce
his decision to me?” He was anxiously waiting for my answer. The modern,
educated, career woman in me voiced her independence by saying that “Thanks, I will
manage”. After exchanging pleasantries he started walking towards the parking
lot. I was left standing- dumbfounded, confused and disappointed in a crowded
mall. All this just happened in a few minutes. I was not disappointed because
we did not click or our meeting did not achieve the desired result. I was sad
because “THE PERFECT GUY” was not chivalrous enough to end it on a better and
friendly note. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With a heavy heart I reached home. My mom answered the
doorbell and looked at me in anticipation. I ignored her and stepped inside
only to realize that all my family members are in the living room and waiting
for me to announce the results. I smiled, gathered courage and told them that
it did not work out. This was devastating for my mom. She could not understand
why? He is well educated, belongs to the same community and a good known
family. I tried explaining that I did not like his looks; he is a boring
conversation maker and leads a non exciting life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My Mom could not comprehend
the above reasons stated by me and after all “Shaadi ke baad toh sab theek ho
jaata hain”. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“But, he is PERFECT”, my Mom reasoned.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Yes, he is <b><u>PERFECTLY IMPERFECT</u></b>” is what I
said to myself while stomping back to my room.</span></div>
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Ypsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15094259846593103883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-454171348660222874.post-63390588437723795842013-05-20T10:32:00.000+05:302013-05-20T10:32:27.650+05:30A Question of Answers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>EssEss continues about her first!</b></span><br />
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So there I was, an unsuspecting first-timer at a coffee shop of a five star.<br />
If you've not read my earlier piece, the link is below.<br />
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To summarise however, the plan was to meet alone so we could talk freely.</div>
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While the 'alone' part didn't quite work out well, even the talk part was... a bit wanting!</div>
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So this tall, fat curly-haired dude has come back from the UK. For good. (His good, I suppose, 'cause it was definitely not for mine!)<br />
He wanted to be back with the family. Join his father in his business. His background was research he told me.. I need not have asked in what, cos soon I realised that I was his subject!</div>
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So tell me... have you ever been victim to a psychological test on a matrimony date? Wohoo!! I had the privilege of one.<br />
He had come prepared with a set of questions! When I say prepared, hold your breath, with a printout.<br />
Yesss! </div>
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Not only that I was supposed to think over the answers and send him the replies by email the next day! I shuddered in horror to think what would happen if I failed thes test!.</div>
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At that point in life I did not give a kadak chai jawab….But all you people out there, please send in your kadak replies to the test below while I sip on my chai!<br />
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Here goes! The <b>psychometric test for the eligible types</b>!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VSxhuWMINTuLXd9OWIrje4mqKd3MCwGiZa5JqIrU0WaYyknH_ii4DeQifVqNJMTTGNWkEAlFmIck44DEsiJAqUagcf5RpFlZQSy5Lr_IDWStOEvWNJnVSCOdnHCX2YBFYytUwGgbSy8/s1600/man+laptop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VSxhuWMINTuLXd9OWIrje4mqKd3MCwGiZa5JqIrU0WaYyknH_ii4DeQifVqNJMTTGNWkEAlFmIck44DEsiJAqUagcf5RpFlZQSy5Lr_IDWStOEvWNJnVSCOdnHCX2YBFYytUwGgbSy8/s320/man+laptop.jpg" width="320" /></a><i>1. I don't have any money and if we get married how much money will you bring with you?</i><br />
<i>2. If me or my mum or even dad had a go at you, how would you react? n if we argued what would you do and how would you handle the situation? <br />3. I don't have a car, would that be a problem? If yes, why?</i><br />
<i>4. If I decide not to take on my dad's business and I am jobless would you still want to marry me?</i><br />
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All you single women out there... Do you know the answers? The right answers? Any answers?<br />
Come on!!!<br />
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(Haven't read the earlier piece? Click here <a href="http://talldarkwasted.blogspot.in/2013/05/the-first-date-or-maybe-not.html">http://talldarkwasted.blogspot.in/2013/05/the-first-date-or-maybe-not.html</a>)</div>
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Ypsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15094259846593103883noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-454171348660222874.post-32868515307441797802013-05-18T23:12:00.003+05:302013-09-19T16:22:51.525+05:30The first date... or maybe not!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<strong><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As contributed by EssEss!</span></strong><br />
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<a href="http://us.cdn2.123rf.com/168nwm/bokica/bokica0906/bokica090600013/5115644-couple-sitting-and-dining-silhouettes--vector.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://us.cdn2.123rf.com/168nwm/bokica/bokica0906/bokica090600013/5115644-couple-sitting-and-dining-silhouettes--vector.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I may not have been born to write. But was I born to meet the weirdest species on this earth??! Oh hell yes!!!? Guess not! And so here I am, attempting to write on this blog.<br />
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The matrimony weirdos….have met all varieties…tall, short, fat, thin. The corporate ones. The mamas' boys. “I m the NRI” MCPs. The “How have I lived without you” types.<br />
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This special one however takes the cake. It’s difficult to wash my memories of this particular event; no matter how much soap I use.<br />
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It was my first time. <br />
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Just fresh out of college my parents decided that we should start while I was young and look out for 'a suitable boy'! Not knowing any better I complied.<br />
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There's always a first time, people say. I knew this was the first time and I had no expectations from it. My parents were probably more eager. First time lucky they must've thought. So when the proposal came along, we were all willing to meet the boy. All except the boy! <br />
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He wanted it to be a date. A one to one conversation so to speak. Let's get to know each other. Let's meet without the pressure types. Well, alright, we debated. Maybe that's the norm. What were we newbies to know!<br />
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So, I met this tall, fat, curly-haired "I am the NRI" category at a coffee shop of a renowned 5 star hotel. The conversation steered from reasons for his return from UK to the new surprise bungalow bought by him in Juhu scheme. Why?! Go figure! Then the questioning started. Almost an interview. Almost an interrogation (But heck! That's another story, oops, blog post!) As I tried to take in what he was asking me and trying to answer his (kind of) weird queries without being dishonest or impolite I suddenly started feeling distinctly uncomfortable.<br />
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I knew we had decided to meet on our own so that right from the first meeting we could talk openly without the concern of two sets of potential in-laws watching us. And in all fairness I had agreed.<br />
But suddenly our table of two had turned to a virtually table of four!<br />
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First dates are full of expectations. First time meetings in an arranged setting is even more so. At teh same time you go with your head on your shoulders knowing what is likely to happen. You know you will be sized up, looked up and down and stared at quite a bit.<br />
But this was downright rude!<br />
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My sense of discomfort stemmed from the fact that two more people had unceremoniously joined us at the table close to us, with all eyes on me. I quickly figured out our neighbouring table, too close for comfort, was occupied by his parents! They had seated themselves there a few minutes after us and (in all probability) were taking mental notes to my answers without taking their eyes off me for a minute. <br />
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With all the prep I had done for this I had not bargained for this 5-star treatment of being stared down by potential relatives at the next table!<br />
I squirmed, made hasty excuses, gave them one final withering look and ended this dishonest set up as quickly as possible.<br />
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(As for the questioning that happened before this, watch out for the next part of this story!)</div>
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Ypsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15094259846593103883noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-454171348660222874.post-7923803399619083642013-04-28T15:36:00.002+05:302013-05-17T15:47:54.852+05:30Tall. Dark. And a complete waste of time!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For a lot of Indian women - young girls I should say - getting married these days is a bit of an issue.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And these are not just any one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">These are women you know. Women I know. Women we meet every day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Each of them has a story to narrate. Well... more than one story. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">About meeting men who come with strings - sometimes ropes - attached. Sometimes the strings even go back to their mothers' aprons. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Are they good looking? Smart? Intelligent? Yes. And more. They come tall, dark and... most of the time... a huge waste of time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Which explains this blog.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The publishing rights stay with three women close to me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Under alias, these are TeeGee, EssEss, and 2bMiranda</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Three, whose trials and tribulations in the so-called shaadi.com market have ranged from tragic to the ridiculous. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Stories that are now up for sharing. For the real world to see. </span><br />
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<em><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This is a place for conversations. While we will start the conversations, it'll be great if you keep them going!</span></strong></em> <br />
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Ypsilonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15094259846593103883noreply@blogger.com0