Two hours before my Reindeer “date”, I’m still driving towards delusion, fueled by the destructive power of hope. In addition I’m a masochist because I actually BELIEVE Reindeer still likes me. Obviously I prefer to ignore reality/truth/fact in all its forms. Let's not forget that it has been three months since Reindeer and I last met. And we spoke only after I initiated conversation. Desi Girl (that’s me) should R-E-A-L-L-Y pay attention to the universe when it sends CLEAR signs.
In my hot rollers and robe I pad around the apartment. With my phone to my ear I chat with the Banker and survey my wardrobe. “I have a closet full of clothes and nothing to wear!” I exclaim woefully. “You are SUCH a woman,” the Banker mumble and asks. “When did you talk to Reindeer?” “Last week. I confirmed tonight and then I asked him how to make rice,” I reply. The Banker groans, “Why would you ask HIM that? You’re a great cook.” Sidebar: Banker is NOT forthcoming with compliments, so notation of my culinary prowess is a big deal. “I can make the 25-ingredient, 4-hour-prep-time dishes no problem. Rice and roti, problem.” “Please tell me you didn’t want Reindeer to think you had someone ELSE over for dinner?” the Banker demands.
Am I that transparent? Because yes, I did want Reindeer to wonder if I had moved on. Then maybe he’d want me back! IT is SOOOO times like now that I need a guardian angel/fairy godmother/gay best friend to swoop in, slap me and say, “Desi Girl, Your Common Sense and I took a vote. It’s unanimous. You’ve lost it.”
“Look,” the Banker begins. “I know men, because I am one. And this guy, Reindeer, is weird.” “I don’t want to hear that,” I reply. “And another thing, don’t tell him his hair is grey or that he’s bald. He knows,” the Banker adds. “Hey!” I snap. “I may be a lot of things, but rude is not one of them.” For dramatic flair, I stomp my foot against the hard wood floor. Good thing I live on the ground level.
I hang up. And after what feels like an eternity, but in real time is 45 seconds, I decide on black pants, a white camisole and a green sweater J. Crew calls bright avocado. Before I pull on my clothes I style my hair and spray my favorite (and lucky) perfume against my neck. Carefully I apply my new silver shadow and add a little shimmer to my eyes.
I slide on and zip up my tall black boots with the slim 3” heel. A few more fluffs to my hair, one last look in the mirror and … DAMN! … I am hot and ready for Reindeer. There is NO WAY he can resist me!