“I live in Rochester, do you know where that is?” Broke Back asks. Okay. I get it. City people think the world ends at the Hudson River or some cases, 96th Street. But I am not from New York and contend with New Yorkers saying to me, “You’re from Minnesota? Oh that’s fly over space.” So I find his mocking so early in our courtship unnecessary and reply with, “I presume you mean Rochester, New York. But when I think of Rochester I think of the famous one. In Minnesota. You know where the Mayo Clinic is.” I mean really, if he wants to play this dickhead game. Fine. I intend to win. I’m tired of being a desi chump.
“Yes that’s right. I forget that you could be well rounded and more evolved than the average New Yorker,” he says. Yikes. Doesn’t he know there are just some things you keep INSIDE your head? Or maybe he tried to compliment me, and it backfired. Rather than dwell on what might be wrong with Broke Back, I ask, “How long have you been in Rochester?” “Long time. We grew up in Karnataka; my father is from Bangalore…” this might explain the green eyes. “…And my mother is from Iowa…” and this explains the light skin and gorgeous facial features.
“So do you like Rochester?” I ask. If we get along will I be expected to move there? Because it seems colder and less appealing than Minneapolis. “I love it,” he says. Oh crap, I think. “I have a nice house in the woods so I take the dogs out every morning.” Dogs? My brother and I had gold fish when we were younger. They died after my brother added aftershave to the water because he wanted them to smell nice. “How many dogs?” I ask. “Four. And I have cats, too.” What the f***. Who are these people running zoos from their homes? I wonder if Broke Back is related to the Crazy Lady in my building. “Wow, you must love animals,” I manage to say. “Yeah. My girlfriend rescued animals and we took in the ones who couldn’t be placed. But we just broke up and she could only take two cats so I have the rest.” One, while I am NOT NOT NOT a pet person I think it’s great they rescue animals. Two, I learned from the Town and Country mess that Desi Girl must proceed with EXTREME caution when dealing with a desi man recently out of a relationship.
“Laundry is kind of nightmare with the animals. The love to hide in the freshly washed clothes and shed on everything. I suppose breaking my back doesn’t help,” Broke Back says. “Excuse me?” I ask, wondering if I heard him correctly. “I used to ride motorcycles.” “Like Harleys and Hell’s Angels in Sturgis?” I ask. Broke Back laughs, “I forget that you would know about Sturgis…” What is with his sideswipe comments? “No, European bikes. But I got hit by a bus and broke my back.” “Can you sit in a chair?” I ask. “I can now. Took a long time. I haven’t worked in years.” Oh dear God. I’m a control freak and this man sounds like my polar opposite. Dogs, cats and no job.
“I’ve enjoyed chatting with you. I’ll be coming to the City next weekend, could we meet?” Broke Back asks. “Sure. My mother will be here though, but I won’t bring her along.” “Thank God. For a moment my heart skipped a beat because I am not ready to meet parents,” Broke Back says. Please. My mom is some really cool peeps. What makes him think he is good enough to meet her? “Don’t worry. I’m not ready for that either. Besides I am in the throes of mommy-proofing my apartment.” “What exactly does that entail?” Broke Back asks. I hear amusement in his voice. “Sounds dirty right? Mostly cleaning so my neat freak mother doesn’t thing her only daughter is a slob,” I reply. “Okay good. I imagined sex toys and hand-cuffs!” Broke Back exclaims.
Maybe. Some day. Only if he’s lucky.