74. DESI PSYCHIC

Remember in (Post 73) when I said nothing could knock me off Cloud 9 that day? Maybe later? Well, if the writing, architecture or marketing professions don’t work out for me, I should seriously consider a career as a physic…

Forty-eight hours after my perfect afternoon in the park desi date with Reindeer, I return home refreshed from a mani-pedi combo. I am STILL so high from remembering every word of the thank you email Reindeer sent: "Thanks so much for the lovely day in the park...The company was awesome..I had a great time…I am off to golf today…Catch up later. All the best, Reindeer"

WHAT I ask, WHAT could possibly deflate my spirit, is what I am wondering when the phone rings. It is my cousin from Bangalore calling (Post 42, 40, 39). Also, I think my desi-dar is broken, because I should have been suspicious when she says she is calling to ‘just to say hello’. No one, especially not Indians, whimsically spends hundreds of rupees on “hello” --- my life is not a Lionel Richie song.

“How are you?” she asks. I reply, “Can’t complain,” which is what I normally do. My thighs are fat. My love life is on life support. I need to lose 10 pounds. “How are you? The kids? The hubby?” I ask. “We’re all good. How goes the dating? I need to know all the details.”

Since it took her all of 11 seconds to ask about dating, I realize she intends to rain on my Reindeer parade. So I concoct a plan. One that will surely be foolproof and leave HER wanting to marry Reindeer. Because I talk REALLY fast, in 15 minutes I detail word for word, eight phone calls and four dates, the outfits, how handsome he is, everything but the belly button lint. When I finish, she says. “Who else are you dating?” Ah…whaaat? Was she NOT listening to what I said?

I’m really grooving on Reindeer. And I haven’t been this jazzed by a man in years. Yes, for sure, there is an extreme danger in liking a man, this early in a ‘relationship’. But I so rarely connect with men, not just physically, but intellectually, too. “I am not dating anyone else,” I reply. Slight lie, I am meeting the desi Banker to watch 4th of July fireworks, but I don’t know about him. As if she can read my mind she asks, “What happened to the desi Banker?”

My other issue, in addition to being a control freak who cannot control her heart, is that I don’t do shades of grey. I am all or nothing woman. Either I love you and allow you to pillage my soul or I push you in front of an oncoming D train. I can’t do half way when I am in “deep like”. 

After a long pause, 10 seconds or so, just as I worry sound is stuck between two satellites somewhere over the Atlantic she says, “Do you think Reindeer he wants to marry you?” she asks. Hellooooo, this is America! I understand that in India four dates equals engagement party, but here in America you have to take a blood test before they give you a marriage license!

To be cont.