Butterflies are free

I rarely write when I am happy. I feel the need to preserve my feelings instead of sharing them, because I cannot believe I deserve the happiness that I find. I started this post last week when I really thought I was too happy to be true. I should’ve known that I have an uncanny ability to be right about these things.

Without giving you too many details, I will tell you now that heartbreak number 4 has finally happened. If someone had asked me last year, “S, do you think you can see four boys come into your life and change the way you see things?” I had just about had enough with one. Good lord. That one still takes my breath away. So, to answer that imaginary question, I would have laughed you off, shut the door behind me and gone back to stressing about the number of days left to go home after another dreadful semester.

Remember what I said about charmers? Stay away from them.
Charm (n.) – Often disarming. Conversation starter.

I don’t know how this works, really. But, I guess we can safely say my socks were charmed right off. The right things were said and the blushes were placed at the end of the sentences like punctuation. The story of The First Date (and my first real date ever, really) was told and re-told dramatically over and over again to induce the sighing and the aww-ing at the right places. But, I was still skeptical.

Yesterday, when I figured that it wouldn’t be going anywhere after the first date, I didn’t know what else to do but smile, nod and step aside. Very few people get a chance at people they’re in love with, and knowing that someone wanted to pick between you and someone they’re in love with can be very flattering. Or at least, that’s the way most people wished to see it.

It also reminded me of this Goldie Hawn movie that I used to watch very often on TV. I guess I was somewhere between the blind guy and her. Haha, I wish. My life should be an endless number of meet-cutes where everyone is in love with me and then goes off on their own adventures after a brief one with me. I dream so much.

But, you know what really stayed with me? I am not the only one making the effort. I am not the only one who could possibly like myself (and I don’t even like myself very much). That is one of the most comforting thoughts to have when your eyesight blurs with the tears you cry in front of your computer at work. So, all that BS they say about not knowing who is probably falling in love with your smile is probably real.For two seconds, it will feel just like that. I promise.

Till the next time I can get myself to make the effort to dress up, wear my lipstick, flip my hair and adjust my top for a boy — I will just get back to work and try really hard to not think of my Sunshine.

Clouds up, ladies and gents.

Saturday Mornings with Nice Guys

On Saturdays, and especially Saturdays like the last one, I have an immense hatred for the universe. I might have woken up on the right side of the bed to realise that probably being on the wrong side of the bed would have been a better option. If that confuses you, you should have seen the dopey smile on my face at 10 am that morning. No one in their right minds would be that happy to have to walk in to work on a Saturday. But, I was.

I love weekends more than I love my job, which is why my chirpiness was unwarranted. I guess that is the thing about knowing you’re remotely required at one end of any line. Whether you’re someone like me, staring into the phone and being an absolutely hopelessly dopey child or someone significant in the  cogwork, levelling the rest of the organisation and making the rest of us look like mere peasants — we all love feeling important, which (at times) borders on a false sense of entitlement.

It’s that false sense of entitlement that I try very hard to avoid, but it’s just a hazard of age (and maybe occupation). I spend my days imparting information to people as if I know everything and I tend to carry that around with me.
Even when it comes to You.

I never fell for The Charmer’s Trap. I always look people straight in the eye and call them out on their bullshit. I rolled my eyes at the bad boys because they mean nothing to a girl who is always rooting for the underdog. So, I looked You in the eyes and I checked for that sort of cocky glint I have strictly avoided all my life. I forgot to check for the possibility of my world crumbling around me. But, don’t worry. It’s not happened yet. When it does, nuclear strikes will bow down to my remains and know they had nothin’ on Your eyes.

I have hated so many movies because The Nice Guy never got what he loved or deserved. (Screw you, Molly Ringwald. Ducky was the true love of your life.) I am secretly afraid of all those girls finding out that they loved You all along. If You get what You want, I will probably have to just nod and smile once more. I could give classes in Nodding Etiquette and Building A Cool Exterior For No Remuneration And Lots Of Heartbreak. I know how much You hate when I resort to cutting my ego down to nothing and making fun of us, but I don’t have a choice. After a point, I am not going to be able to find the joke funny. Repetition kills everything.

I am going to pretend we were supposed to have this story of epic proportions. But, epic is not even the beginning of how I’d describe what a massive disappointment disillusionment has felt like. I can see Your face dropping at the sight of these words [You will never read] and not saying a thing, or just getting visibly irritated at the idea that I will not let go. You will squirm in your seat because I am really close to hitting a home run when it comes to guessing what’s on your mind and it makes You uncomfortable enough to get up and declare You’ve had enough, but You won’t say it out loud. Not yet. You’re still listening.

That’s the thing. I like to push my luck. Every night, I dream of impossible things before I hit the pillow – I pray.

Man Up.

Boys are clueless.

No, I mean really. Here I am, with my chest out and my ego deflated.Everything a woman should be. My heart is on my sleeve and I even have the loud laughter on cue when he makes the occasional cute joke. But, boys are as thick as the foam boards I built my science projects on.

He will take the compliment about his shirt everyday. He will listen while I tell him about how I noted his absence. He will even smile back every time I do. But, boy. You are killing me with the lack of clue in your life, baby.

What does a girl do here? I am not saying I am one for grandeur. I’d rather (to say it politely) vomit in a baby’s mouth than have someone ask me out with a grand gesture. It’s only going to be a movie in a theatre with another 100 people, most of whom will be doing the same things we do- trying to find each other’s hands in the dark. Love, calm down.

You know what an ideal world would be? One without social protocol. How long does it take to pick a heart and decide you do not want to break it? Not much, really.

So tell me, half a ray of sunshine, why is it so hard to figure out we are not in high school anymore? Do you not see how I let you play with my hair only because I like you? Only a girl would know how much that means. Only a girl would know it takes a lot to flip her hair like a blithering idiot and dress up in the morning thinking you will check to see if she is around.

Man up.

We’re Lonely and Bored, Precious.

So, this is me. Today, a day of nothing but work and I am slacking off due to distractions in form of a sexytaaaime playlist. I don’t even know why I have made this playlist considering I have no love life to speak of (I hope that calms my hyperventilating parents down).

But, I don’t know what it is about these songs that really makes me want to hold someone down and say, “Look. You’re weird and I want you to let me love you.” I even have songs on this playlist that will make me dance like Emma Watson in this trailer. So, I am totally going to have my bases covered. Very tempting to give a little Joey Tribbiani wink here. But, I will save it.

People who know me get very surprised when I tell them this is what is on my mind half the time. I have been like this since I was three. I have looked at beautiful things and wanted them. Beautiful beings, even. Too bad life gets you to a point where you realise that you’ve been wanting this for too long and never bothered to go out and get it. Or worse, that no one has ever bothered to go out and get you.

Anyway, I have this tendency to zone out in the middle of the song to imagine the scenario that we could build around it. Some days, (and this is only if you have a vivid imagination like mine) you can actually feel the presence of that dream turning into reality. There’s this one that leads up to everything. There’s the one where you’re your own alter ego, and you’re saying things you mean but will never say. There’s this one for the dim lights. If you’re overdramatic or just a Bollywood child, you have this one to keep you dreaming. There’s the song where you’re just a needy child and will say things that you only wish someone would say to you. There’s the sad, sad look you see in your own eyes in your head to this song when you just have to hold on one last time before you let go.

As I hear my neck break a little more right now with the load of an impending final tomorrow afternoon, I just want to know what it is like to be in someone’s head and know that they’re thinking the same things that you do. To the same playlist that you saved for days like these. You called it your work playlist, but really it’s just your aspirations in lyrical form.

Everyone likes being held to a playlist like this.