Saturday, 22 October 2011

Just another story ...

It started off fine. She was a friend, and I was pretty sure I would not fall for her, but I didn’t know about the small things when I came to that conclusion. Women thrive on the small things; they catch us by our necks over the small things and make us fall for them over the small things. Here is how I was snared.

It was late in the night and we were walking back home, just the two of us, and as we neared the door to the dorm she leaned over and whispered to me,

“I don’t feel like going in, can we walk a little while longer?”

So I did, not knowing that the yellow sodium vapor lamps would taunt me off her face, making me eager to walk across the next lamp just to see the light, light up her face, catch the sparkle in her eye, the dimples on her cheeks, the bounce of her hair, her perfect teeth shyly peeking out through her lips. Oh the lips.

I walked out of the exam hall within 20 minutes of the invigilator handing us the question paper, and very loyally the class stud followed.

“Hey brownie” He called out. 

“Yeah?” I said.

“Are you comin to the party man?”

“What party?”

“It’s the end of the semester man, what do you think?”

“Oh are you 100 already?”

He jumped at me ready to punch me in the gut.

“Whoa, stop fighting over me guys there’s enough of me for everyone” the hot girl said.

Instant puppy dog face mode on the stud, and he started saying the most retarded things ever. Just when my cheeks started hurting from fake smiling, she came down.

“Hellooo” she said.

“Hey, how did it go?” I asked her.

“It was ok, for you?”

“I don’t know, let’s see”

“Hey dude I left the good stuff at your place last night, just bring them to the party man” the stud said as he hurried off behind the hot girl.

“Yeah man, good stuff, to your 100th birthday party” I yelled across the hall as he showed me the finger.

“Come on he's just a couple of years older than you” she told me.

“Do you know what a couple means?” I asked her gesticulating double quotes.

“So you are coming right?” She asked me.

“Yep” I said.

“How did the exams go” One of my Indian friends asked me as he made his way towards us.

“It was ok” I said.

“And you” he asked her.

“Yeah it was good, so see you at the party” She told me and left.

“Macha naa avala love panren da (Dude I love her man)” As she walked away from us my friend turned to me and said.

That night everyone showed up for the party, even those who normally stayed at home skyping with their families. There was beer and dancing. After all this was Germany. We booked a long table farthest from the bar so people kept leaving to get drinks. There was a constant change in people we were sitting with because of the scooching from people leaving to get drinks and people coming back. After an hour I found myself sitting next to her. You can tell by the kind of distance a person puts between them and the next person at the table about their intentions. If that doesn’t give you a clue look for body language, like her hands on your thighs, her playing around with her hair, her attempts at finding excuses to whisper into your ears. Those are the toughest to fight. When her warm breath caresses your lobes and your nose, right next to her ears, picks up the scent of her conditioner and her perfume. With this girl it could turn on a neutered gay pastor. 

Eventually though I needed to get a refill on my beer.

“I am going to the bar, do you want anything?” I asked her.

“Ya, bloody Mary, no wait a beer, no a bloody Mary” she said.

“Wait wait make that a beer” she said as I got up.

By the time I made my way towards the bar she had changed her mind thirty three times.

“Ein bloody Mary und ein tequila bitte?” I asked the bar man.

“My brother from another mother” the stud slapped me on my back.

“What’s up man?” I asked him.

“Dude, call me Hobbes” he said.

“Err ok … Hobbes” I said.

“Give it up Calvin” he said raising his hand.

I looked at his hand and turned around searching.

“No no man, you, you are Calvin, as in Calvin and Hobbes. Give it up Calvin” he said.

“No no dude, I am Indian, I am a Hindu, we don’t name our children Calvin” I explained to him.

“Dude, don’t let a brother hang” he told me.

“That’s wishful thinking”

“You wish your thing was what?” he asked me.

“Ein bier und ein tequila” The barman said as he pushed a glass of beer and a shot of tequila toward me.
A hand grabbed the tequila and gulped down the shot.

“Hey” I said.

“What you gonna do man?” she asked me with a smile and those gorgeous dimples. 

They sapped the power out of my voice box.

“Zwei mal” I told the bar man and turned to her.

“Couldn’t wait for me to get them there could you?” I asked her.

“Nah, I just missed you too much.” She said.

The next thirty minutes we did shots at the bar. Pretty soon she was too tipsy to even sit up at the bar. I did the most gentlemanly thing to do; I called a cab to take her home.

I led her up the stairs, literally carrying her. God knows how turned on I was because she was wearing a dress that kept slipping like it was made out of quicksilver. I opened her door and let her into her room. I lay her down on her bed, turned on the heater, got her blanket and turned out the lights.

“I want a good night kiss” she said in a childlike voice as I was closing the door.

“Ok” I said as I went up to her and bent down to kiss her forehead.

It sounded like there was a symphony of percussion in my head. I woke up cursing the fact that I didn’t drink enough water last night. As I got up I felt a cold draft.

“Let go of the covers” she said.

Dumbstruck I turned around to see her in the bed I had gotten up from, as naked as me. I let go of the covers and rummaged through the pile of clothes on the bed for my underwear. The pounding continued.

“See who it is, please” she said.

I walked up to the door, still confused. The potted plant on the table helped clear the fact that I was in her room and not mine. I opened the door.

“How long must I …” my Indian friend stopped in mid-sentence.

That was the point I understood what flabbergasted meant. Or at least saw what it looked like. He looked me up and down and looked over my shoulder and saw her on the bed.

“You bitch” he told me as he handed me a pile of books, I guess they were something he borrowed or was lending her.

He walked away, down the corridor, possibly the last words he would ever speak to me.

It’s not the most romantic hooking up story, but as time went by things did begin to resemble one of those corny chick flicks. The part where they have the music running, probably some peppy number from Bon Jovi. We basically lived together. We sat together in class. Cooking dinner, washing dishes, doing it, watching movies, doing it, going for a walk, cycling, doing it, you get the picture. I finally began to fall for this girl. She was cute, funny, strong, and intelligent, got my jokes and was, as the saying goes, a dynamite in bed. It was all fine until that night.

It was Christmas, and she had been going on for a while about how she was going to miss Christmas with her family. So I got home early, asked her roommate to let me in, and prepared what I thought was a romantic meal. Schnitzel, sauerkraut, beer and ice cream. Just as I was about to light up the candles I heard someone at the door. In all fairness I must be thankful I did not light the candles. It was her husband.
It was three days before she came up to me to explain and thank me for telling her husband I was using their kitchen instead of ratting her out.

The night after graduation I sat at the bar drinking with the whole class. Her husband had come down for the graduation. She was not drinking, because she was pregnant which I can only hope was not because of me.

“Hey man” the stud said in a very gloomy tone.

“Wassap dude?” I asked him.

“I don’t think she’s leaving him man” He said pointing to the hot girl.

“Cheer up man, at least you didn’t help a married woman cheat on her husband” I said.

“Yeah man” he said.

Prolonged silence.

“You did what?” He asked me with his mouth open.

“Not proud of it man” I told him.

“You sly brown dog” He slapped me on the back making me spit some beer out.

Well I ruined a friendship, slept with another man’s wife, and got my heart ingested and pooped out; at least I made one dumb stud happy with my story. So that’s when I realized what love was, it’s an adventure you take in life. It doesn’t matter if its picture perfect or lustful and wrong, all that matters is that you have that experience to call your own.

She stared at me openmouthed. 

“I am sorry what did you ask me again?” I asked her.

“If you enjoyed your course in Germany” She said.

“Yeah I guess it was Ok” I said.

She threw the ice-cream on my face.

“I am gonna kill my dad for suggesting you” she said as she walked out of the car.

Moral of the story: Don’t tell the girl your family picked for you, to get married to, about your past.

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

In a nutshell ...

When the truth stares you in the face you can run nowhere.

I respect people who are strong enough to admit the truth, at least I thought so until I heard something I didn’t want to hear.

It ripped my heart and spat it out, clich├ęd yes but true.

Failure helps you further towards success until you meet denial. Denial is the friendly shoulder that kicks your problems in the nuts. It is like the one ring, the small dude with big feet could have never destroyed it on his own, neither could have the sexy guy everyone wanted to nail nor the guy with the arrows and that god awful ponytail. Doesn’t seem so corny now that they needed ten members in the fellowship (How about that, a perfect round number). Eventually the ring takes down the old dude with the walking stick and the other dude who was basically pointless in the screenplay. Accruing vengeance all through the journey, to the mountain whence it was forged.

Denial puts everything to the test, you don’t realize what you should, and you dismiss those who love you, who do. The beauty of denial is not that it soothes you with the shroud of myths that it is, but its death. It ends with teaching you something, if that doesn’t help there is this thing called closure.

Closure, I have never seen until recently. When you don’t see something you tend to doubt those around you who have. I always thought closure was an over rated bitch who sat on one’s shoulder and made them move over to the dark side, justifying their being the way they are and agreeing to live with it. She’s not. She is in fact the maiden of the woods who breaks a boy into a man. She gently lures you away from denial and takes away a burden you want for all the wrong reasons.

Which brings me back to my point (after all this banter about nothing); I love what I had more, now. I don’t want to have it now, and frankly I intend to not even try. I won’t be so crass as to proclaim that I will never try again, it’s just that I am currently gloating over this sexy thing on my shoulder, this heavenly lass amongst the trees on the lake, this angel who rid me of my denial and made me see clearly once more.