Wednesday, April 21, 2010

85. MEET ME IN WESTCHESTER

On the day of my Westchester date with Reindeer I get up extra early to wash and style my hair. I decide to wear a brown skirt, hot pink silk shell, light pink sweater and sandals.

Before dashing out the door I reach into the fridge for Reindeer’s samosas. I’m about to find out if the way to a man’s heart is REALLY through his stomach because I pretty much could get Mathew McConaughey to almost fall in love with me over these deep fried triangular bites of delish!

When the train pulls into the Westchester station I spot Reindeer, again leaning against his car, sporting his shades in the manner of a Bollywood legend. It is times like this I feel certain a bhangra song is going to slowly begin with the lilt of a flute, the gentle tap-tap-tap of the tabla. Until it crescendos into an ensemble of 50 color-coordinated extras dancing while Reindeer and I lip-sync to India’s number one hit song. Clearly I have seen WAY too many Bollywood movies. Sidebar: in my dreams I am an AMAZING dancer. In real-life I have some questionable coordination issues.

Reindeer greets me with a hug. Hhmmm. This is date four, shouldn’t we move onto a peck on the cheek or lips? He gives me the 50-cent tour of his town en route to his apartment.

His building is a design from the 1970s when flat roofs were the rage. Inside his apartment I am incredibly stunned. His d├ęcor rivals anything I have ever seen, including the cover of Interior Design magazine. Everything has a place, in this contemporary space filled with deep rich brown leather chairs (bad Hindu)and a couch accented with red pillows and a throw.

The unfortunate living room detail is the wall clad in mirrors. Another 1970s tactic to make the room seem bigger, when it really leaves you feeling a little dirty like a porn star once lived here. The bathroom has a H-U-G-E Jacuzzi tub but is pink with a large vase of curly willows. Since Reindeer rents, I’d like to believe he is not a super fan of pink. Otherwise I am becoming the desi Grace, with her very own Will (Reindeer) and Jack (the Banker).

His bedroom is spacious but sparse, with a bed and a dresser. “Would you like orange or grapefruit juice?” Reindeer asks and directs me to the kitchen where some Juiceman Juicer and a collection of cut citrus fills the counter. “Grapefruit” I reply and watch him pull an apron out of a drawer. This entire production is surreal --- pimped out juicer, farmer’s market fruit and an aproned desi man.

It takes a few minutes for him to concoct the frothy teetotalling beverages and we adjourn to the living room for a leisurely chat. Where he oddly, sits clear across the living room from me.

To be cont.

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