I don't have a lot going on in the looks department. I'm ugly, I'm fat, and most days, I look like a rabid grizzly bear!
Alright, maybe I am not ugly, I can guarantee I'm better looking than the legendary Sam Anderson and the incredible Kamaal Rashid Khan of Deshdrohi fame.
But I'm not the guy that can pull in the double-take-and-second-longer-appreciative-glance routine.
However, I'm also not the guy who doubles up as a disposable block of stone. The one you befriend for free rides and/or a friendly ear, the one you message saying you're going to "come say hi" to, and then spend your "visit" on your computer/phone, after the aforementioned "hi".
Let's get this straight, I'm not (a) looking to hit on you, or (b) expecting fawning attention from you.
"But I'm here, aren't I" isn't exactly an argument that holds water. If you don't believe me, try walking in my shoes; not as convincing from the other side, is it?
I get the fear of not telling someone you like them, simply because you do not want to lose the friendship (or whatever that is). But then, not admitting that out, will probably send you into a sulk-fest, and then you'd end up losing the friendship anyway. But I'd rather have that, the latter, than the former. Because with the latter, I have a faux, (decidedly, delusional) misplaced confidence, that I'm the one who walked away with my self-respect intact. That I'm the one who turned my back on something that did not have a future, on someone that I was no good for, or she was no good for me.
If I tell her, and things don't work out, I wouldn't have that illusion either. Maybe I'd rather have the Pyrrhic victory, than no victory.
Pride, ego, folly, whatever, let me have the hallucination. Never had an affinity for gambling anyway.
I get the fear of not telling someone you like them, simply because you do not want to lose the friendship (or whatever that is). But then, not admitting that out, will probably send you into a sulk-fest, and then you'd end up losing the friendship anyway. But I'd rather have that, the latter, than the former. Because with the latter, I have a faux, (decidedly, delusional) misplaced confidence, that I'm the one who walked away with my self-respect intact. That I'm the one who turned my back on something that did not have a future, on someone that I was no good for, or she was no good for me.
If I tell her, and things don't work out, I wouldn't have that illusion either. Maybe I'd rather have the Pyrrhic victory, than no victory.
Pride, ego, folly, whatever, let me have the hallucination. Never had an affinity for gambling anyway.
I tell myself that eventually it will be my turn. Someday, I will get to nurture a third wheel of my very own, to tell him or her to enjoy it while it lasts, because before you know it there are sappy pet names and stressful birthdays and (ugh) accountability. It’s not so bad for a while. You get to watch relationships ebb and flow, and you learn valuable lessons without having to get hurt. You just never get to feel the giddy melty butterflies either. But it’s okay, because someday you will.
And in the meantime, couple friends, there will always be someone around to take your picture when you look too cute to resist. Just be warned that this single guy is the king of photobombing. And adept at telling you in the most humiliating ways possible, to "get a grip, get a room and get in, get off, get out."
Yes, I think, maybe this is 'adulthood'. Or, at the very least, a miniature growth-impaired version. My dad is no longer making investment plans for my meager savings and I'm off my mom's health insurance, plus, on a daily basis, I'm, more or less, self-sufficient. I'm a real, human, grown-up person. And yes, it is scary.
I'm not an atheist. I believe in God, in a Higher Power, a Supreme Being, a Divine Deity, or to the analytical agnostic, a Moral Code.
And right there, that's where it stops. God. A singular, universal, nameless, gender-less, language-less, racial-affiliation-less entity, that cannot even begin to be defined by any of the innumerous, puny adjectives and/or proper nouns that we(e) mortals come up with.
Unlike some people I know (a bunch of whom I'm related to), I don't believe that Malayali Christians are the Herrenvolk of the modern age.
I'm no knight; my armour is a dull grayscale - well, maybe mostly black, with a few redeeming splotches of white. But I'm hoping that, when my clock runs out, I'll have the placid equanimity to cast a straight gaze, and a convincing answer to the question that inevitably will be asked of all of us - "What the fuck have you done lately?"
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