Mom and I return to Grand Central Station and I take her to the lower concourse. I show her where the restrooms are and settle her into a faux leather chair. I feel bad that she has to sit around and read a magazine while I go on my Broke Back date. But she insists she’s content. Then again she is a desi mom who looks forward to the day she says, “meet Desi Boy, my daughter’s hona-wala”. The closest English translation is betrothed.
On my way to meet Broke Back I call Dr. Froggy and get his voicemail. Which is probably best, how much of a conversation can we have in 6 Manhattan blocks? After the beep I say, “Hey Dr. Froggy, I got your messages. My mother and I were in Connecticut today. We have brunch plans tomorrow, but will be home in the evening, so why don’t I try you sometime between 4:00 and 6:00 evening. Talk to you then!” I say cheerfully and hang-up. I hope he does not call back and can wait until tomorrow. Technically I could call him tonight after my Broke Back date, but after spending the afternoon in the suburbs, I need to detox.
When I get to the café, Broke Back is already sitting at the bar. I did make a reservation for a table, but oh well, let’s be spontaneous! Broke Back is EASY to recognize because he is as GORGEOUS in real life as he is in this photo. Physically he has inherited E-V-E-R-Y favorable quality from his white parent and his desi parent. I have never imagined ending up with someone SOOO good-looking, but I welcome the idea. “Hello,” I say and slide into the neighboring bar stool. He is already drinking espresso, straight up. Impressive. If I drink a coffee now, I will be until tomorrow morning! “How was your drive in?” I ask. “Good. Good. How was Connecticut?” “Fine,” I lie. I find the suburbs debilitating with the yard work and trips to the car wash.
“Where is your mother?” Broke Back asks. It is nice of him to wonder where I stowed her. “Grand Central,” I reply. He nods. I am sure he’s relieved not to meet her. But my parents had a love marriage, which means they chose to marry each other rather than be arranged, so she thinks a man and woman should get to know each other first. “Where are your friends?” I ask. “We’re meeting at Dos Caminos in about an hour and a half," he says.
We begin chatting and he asks the standard “how long have you been on the site” and “who have you met”. I end up regaling him with bad desi dating stories and he seems to enjoy them. But the whole time I am story telling there is something about Broke Back that bothers me. I can only presume because of his back surgeries he is not able to sit still or for long periods. So how did he sit in the car for five hours? And I hope the only thing broke on this guy is his back…and not, his, ahem, front. I have been a repressed desi girl for so long that when I find the THE ONE, he needs to be an excellent and sensual lover.
We finish our date and I head back to Grand Central. Thank GOD Mom is where I left her. I did worry I wouldn’t find her since we have been separated twice in Manhattan, her fault of course. “How was it?” she asks and puts the magazine in her purse. “Fine, he’s nice and good looking,” I reply, leaving out my concerns: broke back, lives upstate, and jobless. “I want brownies,” I say to Mom and drag her to Juniors. The next thing I am buying her is a damn cell phone. It is damn well about time Mom join Desi Girl in the 21st Century!