Desi Girl: You’re mad. I understand that. But we’re supposed to be friends. I am just being honest. (Now why am I rambling on? The damage is done. I challenged him. Something he does not like. Let this unfold. Stop texting Desi Girl!!!)
Town and Country: I’m busy.
Desi Girl: Understand.
Town and Country: No, I mean I am really busy. Have a lot of stress.
Desi Girl: (Do not respond. Do not respond. Do not respond. You have picked a fight. You have never fought with him before. And you know he cannot stand being undermined, second guessed nor have his feet held to the fire. Do not respond. Do not respond. Do not respond.) Fine. I’m just being honest. (What the eff is wrong with you Desi Girl?)
Town and Country: My real friends don’t go after my weaknesses.
Ah! HERE WE GO! He KNOWS he was dick. He KNOWS a normal person with manners should have said something, anything. This is a power thing to him. But this is what normal people do thing for me.
Desi Girl: I am under NO circumstance going after your weakness. It hurt my feelings. I am just being honest. I thought it was a nice thing to do. I am sorry it bothers me. But it does. If we are supposed to be friends. I should be able to be honest with you. Or should I just keep my feelings and thoughts to myself?
Town and Country: Yes you can be honest. You know. I do lots of nice things for people. No one has ever done this to me.
Desi Girl: (What the eff is wrong with him? This is about ME. Not HIM. And I didn’t accuse him of insider trading. Now who is over reacting? What is he? Unstable?)
Town and Country: I don’t need this from you. I don’t need friends like you. If you need thank you then you can go.
Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Is this it? Is this the end? Oh. My. God. Did I push too hard? Did I really pick a fight that ended this? Is this really over. Are we over? If we were ever started. Is this the end? Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Everything is now moving in slow motion. The first few days of texts. Then our three dates in a row. Then silence. Then he was back. And then he was gone. And then he was back again. And then he was gone again. And now – he is gone. For good?
I don’t know when I started crying, but the screen of my Blackberry is wet from tears and snot. I wipe the screen against my fleece pants and squint at the keypad and type.
Desi Girl: Hello?
Silence. Seconds. Minutes. Five minutes. Ten minutes.
Desi Girl: Okay. Then. I will never bother you again.
I am racked with tears, sobbing. I wanted out. Now that I am out. Do I want back in? I don’t know right now. I just know that he yelled at me over text message and I need air. I need to get out of this shoe box apartment and breathe air. And a drink would be nice. But I don’t have any wine in the apartment and the wine shops closed four hours ago.