Oh boy. Town and Country is a persistent little bugger. I really do try and ignore him, but he is the one – who when he REALLY wants my attention – makes it clear that he will get my attention. And he’s wondering if I am “free” this weekend.
And while I would really like some male-pay-attention-to-me-attention. I don’t think negative attention is what I need right now. If I am honest (which involves some alcohol) I really do like him and the attraction has nothing to do with his wealth. He is really smart, very funny, and that accent of his – ugh – my knees melt like a stick of butter under the Delhi summer sun. But I know my attraction is solely based in the fact that Town and Country “gets me”. He gets me in the way that my brother, Meera, Siobhan, Tate and Ainsley do. So when I have these slightly weak throw-myself-under-a-bus moments I try to make myself hate him.
“Desi Girl – remember how he pursued you and then said he wanted his ex-girlfriend back. And then when she didn’t want him, he wanted you – don’t be anyone’s sloppy seconds. He has managed to have a job and have other relationships at the same time before he met you. And now that he has met you, don’t forget he’s married to his work. He only wants you on his time and it is not a want that is based in anything real. He has told you he is not able to offer anything real. If you sleep with him – he will destroy your life like an emotional tornado. Do not give him that kind of power.”
I fill my glass of wine and rifle through my cds. I need music. Ah! The Banker gave me the soundtrack to Slumdog Millionaire and I pop it into the stereo. After a few songs, the music awakens the “Indian parts of me”. I think about what it took for my parents to move to Minnesota. I think about my mother’s sisters. I think about how competitive Indians are with each other. I think about the pandit, the chart master of fate, who warned me against Town and Country.
The combination of wine, the music and reliving past pain begins to rattle and unravel my emotional foundation. And I know, I do know, I am blessed in so many ways. I have a roof over my head, parents who love me, friends, good hair and nice teeth; I have my arms, legs and most important, my health, my blessed health.
But sometimes I find myself so frustrated and demoralized. I know Town and Country is all kinds of wrong for me, but he “gets me”. I know that Possible-Mate-From-Chicago would have been a good life partner – but was he the right guy for me? Did he “get me”? Would he (being so laid back and calm), over time, find my Type A, OCD, overachiever tendencies annoying and want to push me into Lake Michigan?
And while I have no interest in paying $5000 a month in rent (and it’s not like I can afford that anyway!!!) I don’t love my apartment. It doesn’t feel like home – it’s a place to store my shoes. I want to be a writer but lack the support and structure to make it happen. I am tired of being on this diet that I have been on since I was 12. I don’t want to married for the sake of being married, but I want my someone special.
So I let myself cry and cry and cry - until I have sobbed all of the unhappy sadness out of me. It takes a couple of songs for all that pent up ache and anxiety to release, but when Jai Ho (the song) comes on, I begin to feel better.
Sometimes, I mean I know I am NOT Indian, I am American, of Indian descent – Indo-American, but sometimes when I feel the pavement under my feet cracking, it is all things pandits and dholaks (an Indian drum that Dad used to play) that bring me back to balance.