As I sat in front of the idiot box. A box full of tissue papers on my right. My smartphone in front. And a bucket full of cheese popcorn on my lap. Another failed attempt at love.
One more heartbreak. Another breakup. Another failure in love. I am sad, very very sad. My boyfriend, another boyfriend to be precise, broke my heart again.
I ask myself in mock agony, Why, o why I am so unlucky in love.
Why does it always has to happen to me? Why, o why, why me?!!!
The moment things turn out to be good. Everything goes WRONG. So, so very wrong. Why are men such a sissy!!! Everything rosy and romantic goes for a toss the moment the marriage proposal pops up.
My search of bumping into my dream guy continues.
Everything goes for a toss when the question arises.
“Will you marry me?”
Pop! The ring comes out. Whoosh!! I vanish from the scene. Why do they have to break my heart? Why, o why.
Ryan Gosling continued to romance Emma Stone. Whenever I am sad, I watch La La Land.
During the time of great happiness, I watch La La Land.
The time when I am fuming with anger. Yes, no brownie points for guessing. “I watch La La Land.”
The heart-searing piano tone of “Mia and Sebastian” still haunts me. It flies me off to a different land. Oh my God, there he goes with his piano. He is at it again. But before, I could enjoy my pain. After all, I am a self-proclaimed drama queen.
The doorbell rings. Who could be there at this time of the night?
“Why do you have to be such a bitch?”
“What happened this time?”
“Emma, when will you grow up?”
No sooner did I open the door, I was bombarded by questions from all sides. Sheena, Asha, and Nitya suddenly filled up my dingy apartment. Their overpowering presence, accusatory glance and towering personality intimidated me.
The four of us have literally grown up together. Born in the same locality. Studied in the one school. Went to different colleges. And took up entirely different careers. We have been together forever, like babies and diaper, women and hyper, internet and IP, and politicians and corruption. Despite our contrasting characters, we could never stay apart.
Asha is a head administrator of a renowned consultancy firm. A difficult taskmaster. The way she manhandles her employees is really scary. I would rather die hungry than work under her. Just because she is a workaholic doesn’t mean everyone around her to be the same.
Sheena owned a chain of delicacy restaurants. She could create magic by playing with the herbs and spices of India. Her entry into the food industry created a stir among the foodies. They hog and ogle at the same time. Her creation was as attractive and sexy as Sheena herself.
Nitya headed the Physics department of the state university. Currently, she was working her ass off to establish the close connection between religion and physics. Yes, the nerd was a believer. To the world, she wore a serious face. It was only us who knew the real Nitya behind those cat eyes glasses.
Three pairs of eyes were fixed on me.
I looked around helplessly. Tried in vain to locate a hiding space.
“He must have proposed to this nutcase,” Sheena confirmed in an authoritative tone.
“How do you guys know about my breakup?” I had to know.
“Why do you ask such a stupid question. It is you who changed your Facebook status to SINGLE.” Nitya stressed on the word single by making quote signs with her hands.
“Krish congratulated me. He is happy with my decision,” I said in my defense.
Asha shrieked, “Krish is a 13-year-old nutcase. He hardly knows anything.”
Well, you guys must know Krish is Asha’s son. The two are like chalk and cheese. The mother and son duo are as compatible as Bruce Banner and Hulk.
My interrogation continued for an hour. By the end of the trial, I was able to bring them around. They too had to agree that Shubham was a terrible mistake. Shubham is the guy I broke up with earlier that evening. I told them about his Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
“Is it really that bad?” Nitya asked me with a look of fear clearly etched on her beautiful face.
“He needs immediate help. His OCD has gone to a different level.” The term OCD scares Nitya the most. Both Asha and Nitya have faint traces of cleanliness disorder. I prefer to address OCD as cleanliness disorder. You can make out from my cluttered table, not so clean apartment and chaotic closet.
I HATE ORDERLINESS!
Asha would never agree that she has this problem. Nitya is scared shitless imagining she has it.
“In my entire three months of romantic, or problematic, relationship. We never partied. Enjoyed a romantic dinner in any restaurant. I had to literally force him to go Sheena’s joint,” Sheena interrupted, “The jerk didn’t even taste the caviar I got for him.”
Sheena was very touchy about her creations.
To her, cooking was sacred. It was something that was most esteemed to her. She never took criticisms lightly.
I must admit that I am a little manipulative. It was easy to mold Sheena and Nitya. Asha was still undeterred.
I continued my sob story. “The jerk had been dropping hints since morning. My intuition screamed “The Ring.” I was bound to panic,”
“Lest, Samara apparate,” Nitya joked.
To me, a ring was scarier than “The Ring.”
“Shut up!” Sheena and Asha said in unison. I was ordered to continue by the wave of a careless nonchalant hand of Asha. Wish, I could break that wrist.
“I invited him to my house,” I confessed.
“That proves everything,” Sheena sighed.
Inviting Shubham to my house was the best move. The undisturbed papers strewn across the floor were enough to disturb him.
“He stood hesitantly at the door with his hands inside his pocket. He liked it that way when he was outside his home. You see, for him, there is bacteria, virus, pollution everywhere. Anything pure is bound to contaminate him. The pink face of Shubham turned white as he entered my apartment.”
Looking at the eager faces of my devoted audience, I chose to create more drama. “I can bet he had been scrubbing his face and body for over an hour.” Now, this is nothing untrue. The guy actually had real problems. It is quite a different thing that initially I had found the same habit “Oh so cute!”
That’s how I am.
I have a terribly weird taste in men.
And I am not proud of it.
“Shubham fidgeted with the small box inside his pocket. I could see him rolling the tiny little box around his fingers. Finally, after thinking for more than ten minutes, he muttered, “I gotta go.”
“That’s it,” I asked him then. Trust me guys, I was really heartbroken at that time,” I tried to express my fake pain with as much sincerity as I could.
“Oh please. You were heartbroken when you broke up with that Mama’s boy. It was you had intentionally burnt her hair while ironing it. You did it the day he was to surprise you with a ring,” Sheena blasted.
“It happened due to that vermin Krish. He had overheard our conversation,” Asha fumed.
“Why only Krish. Nitya helped me break up with that shitbag Karan. The guy was suffering from verbal diarrhea,” I volunteered to protect Krish.
Both Asha and Sheena looked at Nitya furiously.
“Oh come on, that a-hole disclosed the entire plot of “Shutter Island.” I wish he rots in hell,” Nitya was inconsolable.
“They are all so very cute when you start. It is always your first time. And then you discard them like a sanitary pad,” only Asha could come up with a feminist simile like that.
“What now? How long are you guys going to harass the poor me?” I asked them like a sad kitten.
“You people should be happy, I have not given up on love. I am still searching for the love of my life. My first love is hiding somewhere,” I droned.
“First love for the fiftieth time,” the three of them chorused and came on top of me.