Wednesday, July 28, 2010


Around 6:00 am I wake up and feel pain running along the left side of my neck. Oopsy, I fell asleep on the couch at a crooked angle. My contacts have fused to my eyeballs, rendering me almost unable to focus on the grey, rectangular fuzziness that is my mobile phone and some shoes that have seen a better day. Through the blur I see a missed text message from Town and Country that came in at 3:00 am. 

T&C: Landed!

Desi Girl: Great to landing! Party was fab! (I wonder if he thinks I am still partying or just getting home or waking up. I really should find eye drops.)

Sunday comes and goes. Odd that he did not return my text. So I email him. Monday I chat with Meera and tell her about the fundraiser and radio silent Town and Country. “Emailed him? Tell me you didn’t!” she shrieks into the phone. “Now he thinks you’re interested. You reached, he didn’t, and then you reached again. Didn’t you read the book?”

Normally I would agree with her. But Town and Country and I were emailing non-stop for three days and then spent three days in a row together. Doesn’t that count for something? Anything at all?


Apparently not. It takes days, FIVE to be exact, for Town and Country to be bothered with contacting me via text. And I know he’s addicted to his phone.

T&C: Just got back. Let’s catch up this evening.

It takes everything I have, but I force myself to wait an hour and a half before emailing a response. This is my attempt at seeming calm, cool and collected. Even though, deep inside I know something happened to Town and Country’s interest in me.

DESI GIRL: Welcome back. Sure let's catch up. Do you want to chat or have dinner?
An hour later T&C writes: I’ll call you later, ok?
DESI GIRL: Sure. Call later. I’m packing for Killington.

For some reason, against my better judgment, I have agreed to go skiing with some girlfriends. I am a little worried because I am one of the drivers and I hate driving. It’s one of the reasons I left Minnesota. The other reason of concern, and this is the important one, despite growing up in Minnesota, Land of 10,000 Lakes according to the license plates, I don’t know how to ski. I also don’t know how to swim, which is why I felt like I was living in “Land of 10,000 ways for Desi Girl to drown”. Both of which contributed to my preference for indoor activities like shopping and eating.

Later in the evening Town and Country texts me: Have friends in town. Going to dinner. Catch up when you’re back?

For some reason I thought Town and Country was different. Did I imagine his persistent pursuit of Desi Girl? Because I swear he was the one emailing and texting with the fervor of someone who wanted to gobble up my free time. I wish he had told me he would, at my expense, hibernate at will. 

Because now I feel like I’m losing control of my car in snowstorm. The freezing rain has turned into the heavy snow of rejection. And the slick black ice of being cast aside sends me careening across the freeway and I again, land upside down in the ditch. Where is my romantic, available and emotionally supportive snowplow? Will he ever come and clear the road in advance of me?

Or are my stars so bad that I am destined to spend this incarnation perpetually stuck in a bank of desi dating snow.


Anonymous said...

Great analogy. Loved the transition from date to snow. Beautiful writing miss Desi!

101 Bad Desi Dates said...

Dear Anonymous ... thanks! it means alot to hear that the images and word choice resonate! xo Desi Girl