In the 10 months I have lived in New York, Meera and Rohit have moved twice. And they are gearing up to for a third move. In general, moving is a pain. But in New York, I’d almost rather have my spleen removed with a plastic spork and no anesthesia then pack, hire movers and deal with a broker.
This evening we’re sitting in their living room discussing Reindeer’s inattentiveness. “Maybe I scared Reindeer with my ‘integrate our lives comment’?” I suggest. Meera rolls her eyes and says, “No. He had no problem coming over for your home cooked meals!” Rohit nods and adds, “If he’s scared to commit to to you now, he has no chance surviving marriage.” “And if he isn’t committing to you after three months kick him to the curb,” Meera reminds. “That’s right. At our age you know,” Rohit says with finality. The only plus side to having my love life exploding all around me is reassuring and validating friends like them.
When my phone rings I grab it, "Hello?” I ask. “Hey,” Reindeer says. Seriously? We haven’t talked in DAYS. During which time I have experienced EVERY BLUE emotion known to man: sadness, depression, anger and now rage. And all he says is “hey”?
“So what you have you been up to in the last 10 days?” He laughs a little and this irritates me. “It’s not funny,” I say. He clears his throat and says, “That’s not right, 10 days.” First he blows me off and now he wants to challenge Desi Girl’s OCD-ness and fastidious record keeping. “I have the cell phone log to prove it,” I snap. “Okay, fine,” he replies quietly.
Am I really going to have to help this pansy-ass break up with me? God has a strange sense of humor. “Look, if you don’t want to do this, you need to tell me,” I say. Silence. “Say something," I suggest. Reindeer again clears his throat and says, “Uh-yea.” “Say something more than than" I demand. He sighs and I hear discomfort in his voice. Good. After all the tears I shed, he should feel some pain.
“I’ve been thinking…” Reindeer begins. "That sounds like a start," I reply. “…And I just don’t think this will work,” Reindeer shares. “Fine,” I say. He laughs uncomfortably and then says, “So I guess…” Ugh. I just spent 15 minutes helping him dump me. How long will it take him to say good-bye? So I decide to help him with that, too, “Okay, then,” I say and flip the phone shut.
DAMN! This is when I remember all the leftovers he took home in my Tupperware. How am I supposed to get that back? Shit! Losing a man is one thing, but indestructible plastic storage goods is another.