Wednesday, September 1, 2010

180. TEETOTALERS, VEGETARIANS AND HUSBAND? OH MY! – Part Three

“So what are you looking for in a life partner?” Virat asks. “Someone who is physically, intellectually and emotionally compatible,” I reply. “That seems very vague. Perhaps that is why you aren’t married. You don’t know what you are looking for,” he says giving me a grave look. Now I want the earth to open up and suck Virat into its core, and maybe scorch him a little.

"Of course it is vague. It’s part destiny and part chemistry. The rest of my life can’t be qualified, like a math equation. It’s not like I am buying Tide at Target,” I snap sourly. “You shop you at Target?” Virat snickers. “You should go to WalMart it’s all the same stuff but cheaper. I bet you don’t put enough into your retirement accounts to get employer matching either, huh? How much to you save each month?” Virat asks abrasively. “I save some savings,” I mumble uncomfortably. More like no money, but I won’t be marrying him so why share my dark spending secrets.

I am crossing and uncrossing my legs under the table, my stomach is flipping from hunger. Or pain. This man could literally be killing me. I almost salivate when another waitress walks by carrying plates of pad Thai embroidered with curly strands of julienned carrots and white domes of rice on banana leaves. Finally, finally, finally our waitress returns. “Sorry, for the delay. Are you guys ready to order?” “Desi Girl?” Virat, who has the personality of diarrhea, sets his menu aside, looking at me with flat eyes as if he is doing me the favor by dining tonight. “Oh, no! Please you first,” I insist sweetly. “No, no,” Virat replies. “I need one more minute!” I confess.



He sighs deeply it borders on a groan. Even the overworked and underpaid waitress notices his impatient displeasure. He picks up the menu with the fanfare of a theatre performer, “I’ll have pad Thai with fresh tofu. Not fried.” “Okay,” the waitress notes his order on her pad. “No, no. I’m not done,” Virat interjects roughly. “No fish sauce. No egg.” “Okay,” she says. “Did you write it down? Write it down. I don’t want this coming out wrong,” Virat demands. Clearly, he does not believe in treating servers very well. Another bad sign. I stop and peer around the menu, hoping that someone at the next table and not my date is going on like a belligerent asshole. The unmistakable look of hate flashes through the waitress’s eyes and the pencil moves across the pad. “Total asshole” “Spit in food” “Poison the loser at table 15”. I can only wonder what she is writing.

“Are you ready now?” Virat presses in his superior sounding tone. I set the menu aside and look the bastard square in the eye. Oh yeah, I am ready….

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

what a loser! i hope you did not stay for dinner and walked out of that restaurant!

Anonymous said...

That loser makes vegetarians look bad. What a stick up the butt! He probably had bad breath too. uggh. You have better ways to spend your time!

101 Bad Desi Dates said...

Dear Anonymous ... you know is interesting about your comment abt getting up and leaving? is that EVEN in my dreams I sit there, on these awful encounters and don't ask why or inch out my space in the sand. I finally realize it, now that I look back and have worked at / on myself. But you know who really is the loser me or him? Right? he cannot be blamed my lack of self .

xo,
Desi Girl

101 Bad Desi Dates said...

Dear Anonymous ... yes I guess he makes veggies look bad, but I think the bigger issue was why do I put up with someone people like that. I eat meat and I dont demand that my dates do it too, you know? I just was listening to my head bc I was so fixated with getting married! My best chum is a veggie and I know for sure they are totally hip and cool peeps.

I dont do well with rigid people so I dont know why I keep putting up with them! Perhaps when I can afford that therapist I will figure it out! :)

xo,
Desi Girl