The day Mom sent me her profile, I used my fantastic Google skills and stumbled upon her supposedly anonymous blog. The blog was nothing but a space that she used to anonymously rant about her hunt for Mr. Right. I laughed, I guffawed and I almost felt my heart melt away as I clicked through each post, each story.
It was enjoyable reading what she liked, the music she enjoyed, the films she watched but you know what was even better, reading up on all these things. Thank you, Wikipedia. In a matter of 72 hours, I was a smart, intellectual software engineer, unlike the boring MS Grads she met. Knowing little things that made her happy, made my day. It’s been a couple of dates now and well, it’s time to take things to the next level. So far, she’s been pretty impressed with all the things I’ve done for her. This date is important to her.
“How does this happen? How does he walk into your life in the most unexpected manner, in the strangest of circumstances? How does he manage to do all the things you’ve always wanted your guy to do? There’s no point in looking for the answers. I just want to sit back and enjoy this. I didn’t expect it, but it’s been fun. Fun doesn’t last forever. To quote Dexter, ‘Tonight’s the night’. Yes, after 6 dates, tonight his eyes will tell me what I need to know. Every little thing about tonight will decide whether I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”
I let go of the mouse. My palms are all sweaty. Wikipedia doesn’t teach you how to use your eyes to say that you love someone. As I slouch back in my chair, the patchy ceiling disappears. There, right there on that ceiling, I can see our life together- both of us, happy, in her dream home, driving my dream car. I wanted that dream. And the only way that it could come true is if she’s by my side. How do I tell her? How do I get my eyes to tell her that?
Sitting in this chair and staring at the ceiling won’t help. I’ll do what I do best- cook her a special meal. This time I don’t know what the right thing to do is. There’s no help from her blog telling me how to put a smile on her face. But I know I want to spend the rest of my life with this girl. For once, I’ll do what I would do for her rather than what she’d like me to do for her. This time, she will see the real me.
Chopping, peeling, frying to cook her favourite meal- Pulao, dal tadka and salad. ‘She will love it,’ my heart tells me and yet there’s a slight numbness in my fingers. The kind of numbness I always felt before a major exam. I ignore the numbness as I shower and change. I’ve barely had the chance to tidy around the living room, and the door-bell rings…
As I unlatch the door, a waft of her perfume floats by. She stands there, smiling. I smile back as she walks into my flat.
“So… This is where you live?” she smiles as she looks around, her eyes bright and sparkling. I just smile again and nod.
I remember spending the best evening of my life just watching the woman I love. I don’t remember what we talked about, I don’t remember whether we agreed or we argued, I don’t remember if we discussed politics or cinema. I just remember the way she smiled. I remember the way her eyes danced when she looked at me. I remember how her hand slightly touched mine. I remember getting goose bumps at the touch of her fingers. I remember watching her walk across to the kitchen, giggling and talking at the same time. She was perfect. That’s what I remember.
She decides to follow me into the room as I go in to fetch a towel. Just as I pull the towel out, my cellphone tinkles. I reach over the computer mouse to fetch the phone. I turn around and see her staring at the computer screen. It takes me a while to realise that she is actually staring at her latest blog post on my computer screen.
“How… You follow that blog?” She looks at me in shock and looks at the computer again.
She turns around to walk away, but I grab her hand and plead, “Stay!”
Her eyes burn with anger as I plead, “Stay! Let me explain!’
Picture by: Kaurwakee (http://flickr.com/kaurwakee)