Tuesday, June 29, 2010


I bustle along 8th Avenue to Guantanamera, a Zagat rated Cuban place. While I mostly chose it for my convenience, I somewhat chose it for the Lion who has to come in from Queens. Which leads me to my next issue, QUEENS! I am not sure I am up for a long distance relationship in the City. While my friend Ainsley Ayers (Post 111) who lives in the Village dates a man from Middle Village, Queens, makes it work. Her boyfriend’s job in the City helps dramatically.

Of course, I arrive on time and before the Lion. There is a part of me that wonders who benefits from my punctuality, commitment to integrity and binding myself to my word. Because it is not me!

Once seated, I wonder if the Lion drinks because his profile did not say one way or the other. But I order a glass of wine anyway. I am tired of making concessions and pretending to be someone I am not just to impress these desi guys who flutter in and out of my life faster than a fruit fly. To my surprise and delight, the Lion orders wine too.

Unfortunately the restaurant is ULTRA loud and we have lean over a candle and read lips. I begin to pray that I don’t set my hair on fire. Why didn’t I bring one of my million hair clips? That would have ensured avoiding the accident torching of Desi Girl.

“So how long have you lived in Queens?” I ask. “A while. My brother and I have a company there.” Interesting. Brother. I bet I can get some closure on the Lion’s age issue. “Is your brother older or younger? Mine is younger,” I ask. “Younger,” the Lion replies. He is making this easy! “So how old is your brother?” I ask. “45,” replies the Lion. “Oh?” I say and put on an amused but puzzled look. “I thought you were 44.” “I will be 47 this summer." 

For two days I was obsessed over this one thing, and now that I have truth and resolution about his age, a truly minuscule detail, I feel unsatisfied. I think I wanted this information to make me feel like I was in control of a love life that was so out of control. Because, really, why is this getting married thing so hard? Which as of late, has me doubting myself (something that I don't do often) and my choice to move to New York. Did I make a mistake in relocating to a city where the women (talented, smart, beautiful and driven) outnumber the men who have their choice of lovelies? What if my guy is in Seattle or Santa Clara and I am here?

We make pleasant conversation (as much as we can since we now have to scream at one another across the table). I share the same mindless stuff: hobbies, education, family, etc. At the end of the date he insists on walking me to my subway stop, a clear indication of his interest. 

I let him escort me to the A train, even though during the entire walk I am crafting my “Dear John” email. I guess in desi, that would be a “Dear Raj,” email. But that is just how it goes, sometimes, even in the urban jungle, the Lion is not the King.


Anonymous said...

Your comment about Santa Clara... I really do think in a global age such as this, our generation limiting its dating requirements by geography is small minded. People live in cities for sorts of reasons today, not just to be close to work. And so much of work can be done NOT living near your place of work... I wonder if by increasing dating distances, we increase our chances of finding our partner earlier. But it's hard to convince our generation of instant gratification to do THAT as well!

101 Bad Desi Dates said...

Dear Anonymous ... I hear ya. I tried to chat with guys in Callie, but the issue I ran into was when I was going to bed at 11 pm they were getting home. It is amazing what an hour can do. When I lived in Minneapolis timing was never an issue, and some of the fun in long distance dating is spontaneous calls not only scheduled one!