I’m chatting the typical “get to know you” stuff with Choco-man, who works for a candy company. Oh you’re an ABCD? Me too! Where did you grow up? Where is your family from in India? And while I am not learning anything exciting about him, I refuse to give up. Love is not like Time Warner’s “on demand” service, it takes time to cultivate.
From our conversations Choco-man grew up in the Northeast, went to school in the Midwest or is it the reverse? He also has a sister who is either a lawyer or doctor. Oof, I think the men and their details are blending together into one brown desi date. Either that or I contracted dementia from someone. Can you catch dementia like the common cold?
At any rate Choco-man and I meet on Friday, which happens to be Diwali (the Indian festival of lights), at an exhibit. Unfortunately an annoying, drizzle falls from the sky, which is better than a downpour. But either way I have to be careful and avoid sliding into the museum on my a**, bloomers a-showing, with a cocktail dress over my head, and my purse around my neck. Of course, since I arrive before Choco-man, I never needed to worry about my entrance.
Choco-man rushes in ten minutes later (black hair, brown eyes, medium build) apologizing for his tardiness even though he lives 2 train stops away. After touring the exhibit we’re starving and I suggest Thai so we can have vegetarian delights for our Diwali dinner as Hindus don’t eat meat on auspicious holidays. To which he is quite agreeable. Unfortunately our conversation lack electricity and we eat our pad thai and green curry in silence.
For a change I am completely okay knowing I’ll never see him again because he was SO nice and it was SO nice NOT to spend a rainy, Friday Diwali alone in a City that can literally tear you apart.
We say good-bye and I decide I am not in the mood to navigate public transport. With the flip of my hand I miraculously hail a cab in the rain and decide that is my Diwali present this year, a $25 cab ride and a stress-free commute home.