Posts Tagged ‘awesome things i do

I’d talked to this guy I met on an Indian dating site and after our first awkward discussion, 2 minutes into the 2nd conversation, he asked if he should come visit.

Sure. Why not. I’m not doing anything else anyway so he dutifully purchased his ticket and we had a day-long date this past weekend.

I appreciate that he was willing to fly in and out in one day, instead of staying over – knowing the date was going to end at a set point made it easier.

Not that he was horrible, he wasn’t. He’s fine. He’s also mumbly and sometimes I really could not hear what he was saying because he would mumble and then get softer and softer and softer until I literally had to ask “I’m sorry, what?”

For whatever reason, he really wanted to go go-karting. I offered a couple of other options, but he was stuck on go-karts. Ok, whatever. Let’s fucking pay money to drive in laps when I can just fill my own car up with gas and do the same damn thing.

So go-karting we went. I hated it. It’s not fun, I don’t like being that low to the ground and got lapped multiple times by teenage boys. ARGH.

We played some other arcade games and didn’t drink. DID NOT DRINK.  I was driving us all over the damn city so I didn’t feel like I should partake, but he didn’t drink either… I think he does? I didn’t ask, but maybe he was just being nice.

The thing is, the day was fine. He was fine. But do I want to have babies with him? No. If we were just going to be room-mates, sure, it’d be no problem. But he’s so quiet and he literally said about himself that he’s a “loner” (his words). I’m not.

I think my parents have been right all along…all the good ones are taken.



Actually, it was a lot of fun (“It” being the matrimonial convention I attended this weekend) – so don’t read this expecting my usual snark or annoyance, because I didn’t feel that way, which is a good thing.

As noted before, my table was the oldest. And the most fun!!! Truly – everyone came over and told us how they could hear us laughing and chatting (loudly) and how they wished they were sitting with us.  The tables were 10 each, 5 guys and 5 girls, and we just had a good mix.

The guys at the table were great, but the 5 of us girls got along like we’d known each other our whole lives. And I guess in a way, we have – we all grew up the same, are the same age, are looking for the same things, and have had surprisingly similar life experiences in terms of traveling, family and dating. We were definitely having a little love-fest amongst ourselves.

But – to back it up a bit, it all started Friday at the Fiesta.  Guess who’s the first person I see that I know? Yup… ‘Bidet of Jay‘ guy.  He comes over to chat, I tell him the whole story and he cannot stop laughing. The best part is, as I’d sort of guessed, none of it is true. His sister isn’t even engaged!!!!!

Oy. Indian people are the worst at playing “telephone” – they totally only hear what they want to.   It’s like if I told my Dad, “Hey, I went to the mall today”  and eventually my cousin’s cousin’s cousin’s wife will call and say: “I hear you’re getting married … at the mall!”

Anyway, back to the Fiesta. Only one girl took the dress code seriously – she was in a neon pink dress and neon yellow shoes. She looked like a walking double-sided highlighter. But I’m sure she was very nice!

Fiesta night ended, and we were already in our “table” groupings – we got along so well that our table, plus some others, went out for drinks afterward.  Maybe not the best idea, cause I didn’t get home till 230am, and had to be up 4 hours later. Dude. I’m old and need my beauty sleep. Ugh.

So bright and early Saturday morning, I put on my cute business casual dress and gear up for a day of smiling … the first half of the day was the ‘speed dating’ part – except it’s with the whole table. So, at all the tables, all the girls stayed seated, and then boys rotated around from table to table to meet all the girls.

Oh, excuse me – not ALL the girls. And we didn’t meet ALL the boys. Apparently, it was decided for us that the youngest we’d meet was 29/30 – since any younger would be a waste of time. Don’t they know how well I do with young (white) boys? Sheesh. Guess they missed that memo.

After introducing ourselves to over 50 guys (so it wasn’t like there was a dearth of gentleman to meet), we did some more ice breaker stuff with the guys/girls in our age range and then we started the ranking process.

THIS WAS ALL BEFORE LUNCH! What the hell, yo. Exhausted does not begin to describe how we all felt.

Then, the volunteers (who, I have to really say, did an amazing job – the organization of the whole event, how it ran on time, how they encouraged us without just pressing the marriage issues, reminding us repeatedly to keep an open mind – they were awesome) took EVERYONE’S sheet and entered that data into the computer and came out with rankings.

That’s 250 people, with a minimum of 10 people listed that they’d like to meet on a more personal level, entered into some database and then some program is used to see how you matched up.

THEN! You get a list of all your “1 on 1” matches – so people that mutually chose each other. Plus a list of all the people you chose that didn’t choose you. Awesome, thanks for that. Plus a list of people that chose you that you didn’t choose, which just makes me feel bad.

I had 6 matches, 4 of which were ‘1 on 1s’ – and I REALLY enjoyed chatting with all the guys, even the ones that weren’t a perfect match! I mean, do I think I’m marrying any of them? No, not quite yet. But I’m excited that some of the guys I met were cool and fun and at a very minimum, I’d at least hang out with them again. That’s better than my usual disgust at even having to talk to them, so we’re off to a better start than normal. A

Anyway, we finally finished at … 5pm. That’s 8 in the morning to 5 in the evening. THAT’S MORE THAN I WORK IN A DAY! Jesus. And, we all (and I mean the whole convention basically) went out Saturday night to a club.  Let me just say, all I did on Sunday was sleep. I’m too old for this shit.

Oh – and – don’t think this ends after you leave the event. The organizers produce “The Book” – it’s the holy grail of single Indian people all in one binder.  Everyone who signs up for the convention is in the book, with name/age/height/phone number/email for easy stalking. Seriously, though, it’s even arranged by “table groupings” so that it’s easy to weed out those that are too young and concentrate on the elder statesmen of the crowd.

My parents FAVORITE THING IN THE WORLD TO DO  is to look through the book and mark off the guys they think I should be talking to, if I’m not already. They LIVE for seeing this book. And “The Book” is in such HIGH demand that unless you show up to the convention and show you’re serious, you can’t have it! They won’t send it to you!!!! And if you somehow lose it, sucks for you! We all guarded our books like they held winning lottery numbers.

We were highly encouraged to review the people we didn’t meet, and some of the ones we did, and to email/text/call and keep the momentum going. And I have to say, some of the guys I met have done just that – which is nice!  It may not last or go anywhere, but it’s a good start.

The crazy thing was, during lunch, three of us girls were in line together and I just happened to mention I’ve never dated an Indian guy before – and they both said it was the same for them. There couldn’t have been a more perfect mix of girls if they’d tried.  So… I guess the gist of this is, I went to a matrimonial convention and mostly came away with new girl friends. But, I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.

Although, my parents didn’t give a crap about the girls I met —  when I tried to tell them how cool they were, all they could say was, “Yeah, but what about the boys!”  🙂


So after deleting out all those numbers in my phone yesterday, I felt figuratively lighter. I’m trying to declutter everything – my closets, my fridge, my phone, my life.

But then me and a friend went out last night, for what was supposed to be just a couple of drinks. Yeah…. we got home at 2 am after 3 shots and multiple drinks with these boys we met. BOYS. WE MET BOYS.

And I really mean boys. They were 24.  MORE THAN 10 YEARS YOUNGER! Both are med students here on rotation  — they were funny and flirty, and actually it was my friend who’d turned around to talk to them at first and I was so annoyed because all I could think was “Why is she talking to them?!”

I didn’t mind so much when I was making out with one of them later that night.

The thing that makes no sense to me, and probably never will, is why boys love a mean girl. I wasn’t all out a bitch to them, but I wasn’t particularly nice either. Although med students, they were young and dumb – the bar was playing 80s music, but then one who claimed to ‘love it’ couldn’t identify any song/band (have you ever heard of the go-go girls?? NO. You have not.)  So I made fun of them, but in their defense, they weren’t even born when half those songs came out.

And… back to feeling old as dirt.

Also, my friend was born in India, so she has a smallpox scar. The one child doctor couldn’t identify it, which I could not believe and flat out asked him:

“Jesus. How can you not know that?!? What kind of doctor are you?!?!!?”

Uh yeah. I think I actually hurt his feelings on that one.

Anyway, we naturally paired off and I was chatting with my little boy and making out a bit (although, when he put his hand on my boob, I swiftly removed it cause I am classy like that) and I asked him:

“Why are you talking to me? Go meet someone your own age.”

And I totally meant it. Why is he talking to me?!?! And he says:

“I like you. I don’t know if it’s your men’s cologne you like to wear, or your personality or how pretty you are but you are so fun. “

I may have rolled my eyes.

You guys! I am a jaded cynical bitch who just deleted 32 numbers of stupid boys who all said some variation of the same bullshit.


So anyway, he continues:

You know, I’ve got other priorities while I’m here in town, but if this goes well, we could make this a priority. We can figure things out. After my rotations are done, I can choose where I want to go, so maybe it’ll be here. We could have beautiful half-white, half-Indian babies.

Ok, at this point, I was flat out laughing.  He then asked the inevitable question of “Why are you single?”

And I told him the truth: “I get bored really easy. I don’t make it past a few dates.”

And it was his turn to laugh: “So, I should always entertain you, huh? I can definitely do that. You won’t get bored with me.”

It is sweet to hear, no doubt. But…. why can’t I hear that from anyone my age!?!? Like “The Bod”?!!? Why does it never come from the person you want it come from? And this kid’s sweet and cute (and he is a cocky fucker who knows both of those things about himself) but he is 24. So sure, he can say all this shit because it doesn’t matter and it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just lines at a bar when everyone’s pretty buzzed.

And as flattering as it was, it did make me sad that I wasn’t hanging out with “The Bod” because I hadn’t gotten bored with him yet. I know I just need to move on, but my feelings are definitely hurt with him not calling or wanting to hang out again, especially since I don’t know what I did wrong. And maybe it wasn’t me, maybe it was his own shit that got in the way, but that doesn’t make it hurt less.

But, all of that said, I took his number (and gave him mine, and told him to call/text after his tests are done this week) and I’m supposed to see Doogie Howser next weekend – let’s see if it really happens. Because 24 can definitely be good for some things 😉

The new guy and I had our second date on Friday night. The plan was to meet at my place and then head out for dinner/drinks. But ‘fate’ had other plans – I got diarrhea from lunch. I should’ve cancelled, but let’s be honest, I didn’t want to – I wanted to see him again. So I popped an immodium and drank some wine (my favorite combination) and waited for him to show up.

When he did, looking SUPER cute, I let him know the deal – we could go out, and he could eat but I wouldn’t eat or drink (I don’t like to be possibly sick away from home) – OR we could walk somewhere, get some take away, and come back to my place to hang out, so I could be comfortable just in case. It’s odd for a second date, and really intimate, but considering we’d spent 2 hours last Friday making out, it seemed ok.

So, let’s get to the point – after he ate some dinner, I drank some wine, we ‘watched’ a movie and I was sure I wasn’t going to be sick again – we slept together. Because … OF COURSE WE DID.

He takes off his clothes and OMG … this boy should be naked all the time. Like seriously, he should NEVER wear clothes – they do nothing for him.

He is FUCKING RIPPED. But not in a body builder kind of way – more like a natural result of being outside, being active, CLIMBING MOUNTAINS WITH BRICKS IN A BACKPACK KIND OF WAY.  (Which, what the fuck – who does that for fun? Not me. I let him know about my innate lazy-and-clumsiness so there are no surprises later.)

Anyway, back to his 6-pack and muscles and six foot body that ripples with every movement. Like I was NOT going to fuck him after seeing that. I totally tried to position myself so my extra poundage would be hidden in the best possible way, though honestly, he didn’t notice or at least didn’t say anything.

And… it was GOOD.  Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo goooooooooooooooooooooooooooood.  He was really sweet and awesome and we just melted together amazingly.

But now, the thing is, I don’t want to be the one who pursues. I want to see him again, of course – because besides the complete chemistry, he is really smart and fun and funny – but I had to set up the first two meetings and it has to be his turn now.

But, since he got what he wanted (and so did I) – maybe the chase is over? Not that there was much of a chase, let’s face it – I gave that up pretty fucking easy.  I just want him to put some effort into it and maybe it’s too late to ask for that, and that’s totally my fault.

I want to believe he meant it when he said he wanted to see me again and he did text today…. but we didn’t make any plans to meet up. The ball is in his court but I’d like them in mine again. 😉

My bathroom drawers were realllllllly bothering me – the kind of bothering where even when I was watching tv, I would think “Those drawers are a mess. I should clean them.” Not that I got up and did anything, but it has been nagging me for awhile.

So today… a perfectly beautiful Saturday afternoon, I put some laundry in and got to work.


I mean, I know why. Because when I need one for travel, I can’t find the ones I already have because I put nothing back in its place, so I think I don’t have any and I buy a new one. Now I have 4.


Again, I know why. Someone was probably coming over, and I shoved it under the sink thinking I’d grab it later … and forgot. The Mint 3 Musketeers is fabulous, by the way. Just the right amount of mint.  Fuck yeah I ate it.

Third of all…. WHY DO I HAVE SO MUCH SHIT?!?!?!

Not just in my bathroom drawers. Everywhere: Clothes, shoes, accessories (including scarves, gloves, jewelery), purses, tupperware, glasses, silverware, magazines, luggage, bedding, paper towels, hair care products, books, souvenirs.

EVERYTHING. Turns out, I’ve been keeping the American and African economies going ALL BY MYSELF.  I’m the Queen of Clearance sales… but I need to learn that just because something’s cheap doesn’t mean it has to end up in my place. Because, really – I live alone. Do I need 4 full size tubes of toothpaste? Was the sale on 3 for $3.50 Crest REALLY such a good sale when I can’t finish them?? I barely manage to brush my teeth twice a day – it’s not like they’re getting used up. SIGH.

I’m embarrassed by how much I have, annoyed at myself for having it, and mad that I sound like a hoarder.

No more shopping. For anything. Those 2 Kate Spade bags I just bought (on mega-sale, of course)? THE LAST OF THEIR KIND.




Today is Diwali, which is also the tithi for my Mom’s Indian birthday. Priding myself on being the ONLY child out of the three of us that ever remembers the second fact, I called my parents this morning to wish them a Happy Diwali and my mom a Happy Birthday. (And then I text my sister and brother to remind them to wish Mom a happy birthday – but only after I’ve called. Because I’m the middle child.)

My father, who thinks he discovered youtube, likes to listen to Hindu prayer bhajans in the morning. AT FULL BLAST.  I mean, literally, it makes you want to scream, which I don’t think is the purpose.

Anyway, I called home this morning at 9:50am and this was the exact conversation I had with them:

Me (whispering, cause I’m in my cube at work): “Hi Daddy. Happy Diwali.”  — ALL I HEAR IS HIS YOUTUBE IN THE BACKGROUND.

Dad (yelling, because he can’t hear himself but still being drowned out by the maximum volume on his speakers): “HELLO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHERE ARE YOU? YOU ARE AT HOME???”

Me (whispering): “Daddy – I can’t hear you. Turn off your youtube. Or at least turn it down.”

Daddy (not turning it off or down, and still yelling): “WHAT? WHAT? WHAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU! SPEAK UP!”

Me (whispering harshly): “Daddy! TURN. IT. OFF.”

Daddy (still not turning it off): “WHERE ARE YOU? YOU ARE AT WORK?”

*On a side note, in all the years we have lived in this country, Diwali has NEVER been a holiday. We don’t even get Easter off. Where did he think I was?

Me (whispering a little less quietly and more harshly): “YES. AT WORK. WHY. IS. IT. STILL. PLAYING?”

Him (now having walked away from the computer speakers, but still not off because I can still hear it): “Oh, sorry! I couldn’t hear you.”


Him: “SO…why are you calling?”

Me (completely exasperated and not even bothering to be quiet anymore in my cube): “DAAAAAAAAAAD! I just called to say Happy Diwali! Where’s mommy?”

Mom (picked up the other line): “I’m here, beta. Happy Diwali!”

Me: “Thanks, Mom. Happy Birthday to you too!”

Mom: “Thanks – we’ll talk later since you’re at work.”

Done. The end.

So I went to temple tonight with some friends and then had dinner and on the way home, called my parents – Dad answered:

Dad (laughing like Beavis and Butthead): “Hey! Happy Diwali! I just couldn’t hear you this morning.”

Me (laughing too): “Thanks, Daddy. Happy Diwali AGAIN. Now that you can hear me.”

Dude. They’re nuts. Seriously, just nuts. But I wouldn’t want them any other way  🙂

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