80. DESI GIRL FINDS REINDEER’S OTHER PROFILE

Contrary to public opinion, working for your father (like I do) is not a princess job. Instead of lunching with friends and filing my nails, I have been yelled at more times for other people’s mistakes than I can remember.

And God forbid I actually leave the office for lunch. Dad, because he’s stuck in Delhi 1967, feels that a woman MUST answer the phone. Sexism? Yes, a little bit. And when you work for your family, you wear lots of hats. With my undergraduate degree in architecture and graduate degree in business communications, I have done everything from answer phones, reprimand contractors and pick up the garbage. I draw the line at snow shoveling. That is a boy job. Sexism? Why not use it to my advantage?

Because I want to check my email and online news I need to come into the office early. My parents are fully enjoying a life in the dark ages with no Internet or cable. They do have Zee-TV beaming in desi serials from India. And yes, to their point, they are money saving Indians who don’t use computers or care that TNT has 12 hour Law and Order marathons.

I sit down at my desk and inhale coffee like the true addict I am. Then suddenly I have a heart stopping moment of shock. I am reading notifications from the matrimonial site of interested men (whom I plan to reject) and stumble upon Reindeer’s SECOND profile. Both profiles have TOTALLY different photos, descriptions and locations. One lists him as residing in the City and the other the County.

I check the activity on both accounts and see that he was on both around 10:00 pm. So he could have called me back last night. Does this mean? Is he seeing others? Why hasn’t he told me has two profiles? And why does he have two profiles? What if he assumed I would never find this one? I think then I should be more worried about that than if he is dating several women. And it’s true; Reindeer doesn’t owe me anything. We’re not exclusive. God I am an idiot for brazenly liking him.

Somehow I manage to get through the day and at 4:00 pm I bolt across the street. Jack and Jane are sitting at an outside table drinking beers. Jane dominates the waitress’s attention, ordering her salad as fat-free as possible in a Sally-from-When-Harry-Met-Sally-manner.

Jane has the uncanny knack to, in the middle of ordering, shriek at me, "You look hot!” Then turn to the waitress and say, “Can you believe she’s not married.”

I sit down next to Jack and say, “I am giving the keys to you because you’re the responsible one. He smirks and asks, “How does it feel to be back?” “Okay. Lots of trees.” Jack laughs and says, “How is Reindeer?”

Ugh. Jack must sense something is off and says, “Don’t worry he’ll call. You’re a catch.”

I don’t think Jack knew how much I needed to hear his kind words that day. Thank the goddesses for friends like him.