Romance
Is
Dead

I met a girl today.

Isn’t that how most stories start?

Don’t think about that question, focus on me. Because I met a girl today. And now everything is different. There is pre-her, and post-her. I’d like to say there’s no going back, but the problem is that I have full control over that. At this point I really want to be in the post-her phase, but I’m also really interested in my own survival here because if she’s not ‘interested’ (I hate that word in this context) then I’d really like to make my brain and my heart believe that post-her is just the same as pre-her... so I’m keeping the option open. More out of necessity than choice.

If that confuses you, then you can relate to what I’m going through.

By the way, I should give you a disclaimer for my vocabulary. I make decisions based on vigorous arguments between my brain and my heart, and I collectively call them my ‘mind’. So if I use the term ‘mind' again, which I will because why else would I write this disclaimer to cut the flow of the story I’m about to tell you, then you will know what I mean.

So before you get too excited for me, I should say that I just met this girl at a party. It wasn’t some amazing romantic moment accompanied by a sophisticated background score - if my life was a movie this surely wouldn’t be the moment that’ll make the audience believe we were destined to be together. It was just a moment where I met this girl who I’d never met before.

The host of the party was a mutual friend and she introduced me to her after I’d had at least three drinks. We had a pleasant conversation over the course of the party. And by the end of it, I got her number. And now I don’t know what to do with it.

Should I text her?

Or...

Should I call her?

That is a big decision. If you’ve ever been in this situation, which is to say if you’ve ever been a young adult or twenty-something, then you know how important the distinction is. It sets a precedent. It also sets off two separate realities and I only have time to live in one given how time and life work.

If I choose to text her, to me it looks like I’m saying — Hey, I gave you a few seconds of importance in my day, and I’m willing to continue this conversation over the course of hours and days while I also do some other things which are equally if not more important. So I’m not showing you my cards until you also choose to play this ridiculous game that no one invented but is here to stay. 

If I choose to call her, then I sound and look like — Hi there. I liked talking to you, so much that I want to continue hearing your voice without really having a plan of what to do once we both say hi. Or without any idea if you also liked talking to me. So hopefully this isn’t weird for you, because this late-night call to a person I just met is a full-on hail-mary pass that no friend of mine will ever recommend for me to throw. In fact they will all tell me it is too bold a move and it has never worked for anyone they know. So… what’s up? 

All this thinking - which barely took my mind a minute to do - just to ask out a beautiful girl on a date.

But time is of the essence. The party ended about thirty minutes ago. It’s almost 1 am. And the clock is running out for both plans.

By the way, her name is Radha.

I met a boy today.

Or should I say man? I mean, we’re both the same age. And as much as I like to see myself as a woman, I still think of me as a girl. And I’ve never said the word ‘man’ referring to people I actually know. So alright, let’s call him a boy.

It was at a party that I just left. My friends dragged me along because according to their limited but relevant expertise, I really need to get out. I just got out of a really, really messed up ‘relationship’ (I hate that word in this context) a couple months ago. So going out, seeing people, especially people who either knew me or knew him or knew about the shit-storm our breakup was, really wasn’t how I wanted to spend my Friday night. When all you want to do is stop thinking about yourself and your life, being around people who basically act like judgmental mirrors the whole time you’re around them really wasn’t going to help me feel better or give me the ‘distraction I need’, as my girlfriends like to put it.

To be honest, because what else am I supposed to be to you, I really don’t know how to behave around people right now. I don’t know what I want, but that’s always been the case. But I also don’t know when it is time to stop caring about that. So when I met this boy tonight, I tried to forget all of this. But given how my fantastic friends had given me a couple drinks and some shots, I decided to let the drunk-me be in charge.

So when he asked for my phone number, I gave it to him.

Well, the irritating thing is that he asked for it pretty casually, saying something like he wanted to text me the next time he hears about something blah blah. I agreed because at the moment he said it I was really into blah blah. And now I’m sitting here in my car back home wondering if this is just something he does. So what could have been a really big step for me - stop thinking like that Radha! - could just be another set of digits sitting in his contacts folder.

The really, really awesome thing that drunk-me did is that she didn’t get his number. Phew, I can actually just sit back and not care about this now because I have no control over it.

Although now that I’m sobering up, I hate not having the control. Why did I give him all the power? Am I just spiraling down a different but similar rabbit hole?

Ugh. Fuck this feeling. Fuck all feelings. I’m going to turn off my fucking phone because that is the only thing I can control right now.

By the way, his name is Yash. Not that I care. Probably won’t see him ever again. Why do I even care about that?

I sent her a text.

It was impulsive. It was past 1 am and then I pretty much dared myself to text her, staring at the thing I just wrote and then it was like my thumb just really wanted me to stop being a pussy and it pressed on send. I swear I could feel it giving out a sinister giggle as I saw the first check mark on this new Whatsapp conversation I had just started with her.

I just kept staring at the thing I wrote for too long. When did a simple tap on my phone become this huge, possibly life-altering deal? So once my thumb did its job, I got scared and arrogant (at the same time, there has to be a word for this combination) and put my phone away. If I can’t see it, maybe it doesn’t exist. Maybe it never happened. Maybe I can just ignore this action forever and hope I never see her again. Maybe I’ll just stop going to parties. Maybe I’ll just move to another city.

Fuck.

Alright. Distract me. Ugh. You can’t because you don’t exist to me in this one-way talk. Fine. I’ll distract myself. I’ll tell you why I’m freaking out (a little bit, just a bit) about texting this girl.

Do you know what a double take is?

I’m not going to wait for you to confirm because you still haven’t figured out a way to talk back at me. So I’ll tell you.

A double take is when you’re just looking in a general direction, possibly scanning the room or environment you’re in, and see something that you didn’t expect to be there, something that seemed out of the ordinary. So you immediately look back at this thing to check if you actually did see that thing or whether it was just a figment of your imagination.

For example, if you were sitting in a classroom, bored out of your mind, and you were looking around your class, and it looks ordinary, everyone is exactly where you expect them to be, and then your surveillance-camera like eye-motion gives you a glimpse of a monkey sitting on the professor’s desk, you would turn your head back in that direction to make sure you weren’t suddenly just seeing monkeys. Right?

When I saw this girl tonight, I had to do a double take. No, not because there was a monkey on her shoulder. Although yes, that would be unusual and worth a second look.

Why did I really do a double take? Because she is god damn double take beautiful.

But I didn’t double take that moment to make sure she was actually this beautiful. My mind actually processed that quite quickly. The real reason I double taked (yup, I’m verb-ing it) that moment was because a really, really small but significant part of me wanted to see that face again. Because it had never seen such beauty before. So this part of me wanted one more look at her, to capture a better image of her in case I never see her again.

Why am I telling you this? Because when I was writing and re-writing that first text (I will admit there were more than 6 rejected drafts, 4 of which were quite safe) to her just a few minutes ago, that really, really small but significant part of me snuck through and wrote something. And then it re-colluded with my thumb and made it press send.

Do you want to know the message it sent her? I’ll tell you because I suck at distracting myself.

Okay, so that’s a good reason to pick up my phone again, right? I mean, it’s not that I’m hoping or wondering if she answered. I just want you to know as much as I do. Which is very little.

So I pick up my phone and open Whatsapp.

And it stills shows one check mark. She hasn’t even received it yet. But here’s what it says, which is what I had said —

Yash: So when do you I get to see you again? :)

Well it’s the next day. Early morning. 9 am.

I’m a bit hung over and very late for a meeting. And as I sit in my car I realize my phone is still off. That really doesn’t give a professional vibe.

But this phone off thing turned out to be quite therapeutic. Since my phone basically didn’t exist for the past eight hours, I was actually free. Disconnected. Off the fucking grid. Why can’t life always be this simple?

Don’t answer that because I need to turn my phone on now to call my boss because c’est la fucking vie. Pardon my French.

Oh. What’s this? A text. From him.

No, not from my boss. Actually, yes there is also a text from my boss. But by him I mean him, the dude from last night.

What does the text say? Wouldn’t you like to know? I would too. But I don’t know. Because I still haven’t ‘seen’ this text, I just see it in my list of messages on Whatsapp. And right now I really don’t have the time to open it and give it the appropriate acknowledgement. I see his name, and I see a ‘1’ sign, which means he sent me one text. And because I need to get on with my day I shut the app down immediately without reading it. I’ll get to him when I have the time and energy to be nonchalant.

You know, I think there are two kinds of people in this world (in the context of this thing I’m telling you) - people who want someone’s phone number, and people whose number everyone wants. The thing that makes this thing a real pain in the ass is that it is all relative.

Now, when I met this girl, you already know how I felt. So to me, she was a definite member of the latter club.

And by now you must have guessed (by my voice and my actions) that I consider myself to be a member of the former club. This isn’t humility or low-self-esteem talking. This is the result of an unwanted but thorough un-anonymous survey over years of dating and being a human of the male kind.

So, I thought, how does a guy like me impress a girl like this?

That part of me that sent that text… it believed that being aggressive, direct, and self-servingly honest was the answer.

Was it a bold move? Would I have decided differently if I were sober? It’s funny how we blame circumstances when things don’t go in our favor. It’s actually my mind’s favorite pass-time.

So when I woke up this morning, I woke up to two checks, but not blue.

That ‘checks and blue’ lingo is Whatsapp-overthinkers talk in case you didn’t know that, and if you didn’t, congratulations! You’re pre-qualified to be a member of the ‘people whose number everyone wants’ club like Radha.

Anyway, what seemed like a really good move last night was now sounding crazier by the minute. Texting can be really fun when the context is still in play. But remove that element, and everything you say can be interpreted in countless ways. And now I have my rational sober mind telling me that not many of those ways would be in my favor.

Well, at least the check marks weren’t blue.

Small victories from to-be-decided moments. That’s what fuels my ego.

Yash: So when do you I get to see you again? :)

Okay. That is… interesting.

It’s about 6 pm when I finally do read his message. I opened it thinking I would just send an appropriate reply to whatever he sent. I did not expect it to be a question. So I let it sit and put the phone down.

What kind of a question is this? I mean, I just met this kid last night. Despite his appearance and apparent-personality during our drunk-ish conversation, I don’t know much about him. Am I supposed to glorify this response with an actual answer with a date and time?

What kind of impression does that create about me?

Wait. Here’s the question I really should be asking… hypothetically... do I actually want to see him again?

Because he’s already answered that question about me. And that cute but sinister smiley face is just staring at me now.

Okay. Fine. Let’s break it down. Let’s, for a metaphorical minute, forget that drunk-ish-me thought he was cute and nice to talk to. Let’s reset his goodwill so far to zero. And see what results we get.

Let’s say I do not want to see him again. How do I say that in the right way so it doesn’t sound misleading or playing hard to get? Because I’ve had too many undesirable encounters of those sorts. Boys who think they are men. Idiots who think they are cool. Assholes who think they are entitled to anything they desire.

If you’re a girl, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Because saying a direct ‘no thanks’ is just so… mean. And hurtful. I mean, it would even hurt me to say that to another person. Rejection sucks, sometimes even for the rejecter. Because not everyone deserves mean-ness. And despite what people like to tell themselves, there is no hurt-free politeness in rejection. So I have to figure out something that says ‘not interested’ that doesn’t sound like an excuse or apologetic or a leading-on or a asking-for-more-attention or even a lie. If you write something general and broad like ‘I’m really not looking to date anyone’, you sound like you’re rejecting him before they could even prove themselves to be the exception. By the way, why does every guy think he is the exception? On the other hand, if you say something specific like ‘I’m not interested in you in that way’, you sound like you’re swiping left on their entire existence.

Damn, do boys have to go through this self-depreciating etiquette training? Because let’s be honest, there really aren’t many ways to say something that checks all the boxes that doesn’t lead to a reflex ‘what a bitch’ conclusion from the other side. Because lie or truth, everything hurts when it is not the answer you want. And people do stupid shit when they get hurt.

Alright. I think I’ve got it. Let’s take what he’s saying at face value and assume that what I say will also be taken as that. Although in my experience it rarely is. But for argument’s sake, let’s say he actually means it. He’s telling me he wants to see me again. And I don’t. He is putting himself out there, quite directly, and I have to tell him I’m not interested. Intentions, no matter how sincere, have nothing to do with the outcome if the ball isn’t in your court.

So there are two ways that can work here.

Option A: ‘Hey. I’m not interested in a dating situation. But I appreciate the offer. So hope this isn’t awkward if we ever bump into each other again. :) ’

Do you approve of that? I think it’s really the best I can do here – honest, to the point, with minimal ego damage. Obviously it could lead to an unwanted conversation, and if he does react in an undesirable way, then you just block him and hope he doesn’t have your address. I added that smiley face just to give it a soft landing. And also as a harmless ‘fuck you’ for putting me on the spot to be the rejecter.

Option B: Just ignore him. Forever.

Yeah, not gonna lie, this is just a mean thing to do to another human being when you don’t know them that well. But we all have our reasons. And sometimes you just have to not give a fuck and treat-yo-self to a good ol’ fashioned Beyoncé walk-off.

Because this is what option B is really saying - Bitch, you don’t even deserve my attention. 

Okay. Now that I’ve gotten that ‘No’ scenario out of my head - which was already quite exhausting, and was my entire car ride back from work so it’s been an hour since I saw his text - let’s look at the ‘Yes’ scenario.

Alright, so in this scenario we’re assuming I actually do want to see him again. Because you and I both know that whole ‘No’ scenario was just a long distraction from thinking about this, since now I actually have to take his vibe from last night and my own personal feelings about him into account.

So… hypothetically, perhaps I do like him so far. I mean, I’ll still be looking for warning signs through this possible route, but I am still a woman - I mean girl, or woman, or both, you get it - who gets attracted to nice and like-minded people. And last night…he really checked both those boxes.

I think the best way to move forward with a decision like this is to phone a friend - or, in this case - text a friend.

And yes, perhaps this is another diversion from actually making up my own damn mind.

So I text Shreya, who is my best friend for over a decade, and also the person who dragged me that party last night.

Radha: Hey. That dude from last night. Yash. He sent me this text. (attached image of our conversation) 

Literally 20 seconds later...

Shreya: OOOOhhhh look at you, giving out your number to dudes. Told you it was a good idea to step out.

Radha: Focus.

Shreya: Hmm. Okay. He sent that at 1.23 am? He really couldn’t wait.

Radha: Thanks, detective obvious.

Shreya: Bold move, too. And points to you for not responding right away. I’ve trained you well.

Radha: What’s your verdict?

Shreya: …

Radha: You literally just wrote dots. Say something useful!

Shreya: Calm down, will you! Give me five minutes.

13 minutes later…

Shreya: Okay. Here’s what my sources are telling me. Decent dude. No red flags so far. Definitely single. Has been for about a year it seems. That’s not a good thing.

Radha: Uhm, why?

Shreya: Who is ever single by choice in this city? Maybe he’s shy. Or stupid. Or worse... boring. 

Radha: Or selective.

Shreya: Like him much?

Radha: Just…what should I say?

Shreya: Wait. 

Another 6 minutes later...

Shreya: Okay. Last girlfriend. Total crazy pants. I think you’ve met her. She…

Radha: Stop stop. I don’t want to know all that from these unnamed, unreliable sources. 

Shreya: What? Why would you not want to know?

Radha: I don’t want a third person’s judgment of his character. I’d like to figure that out myself. What do think I should write back? 

Shreya: Ahhhh. So you do like him. 

Radha: To be decided. 

Shreya: :) 

Radha: Be useful!

Shreya: I don’t know, babe. Give it a shot. Why the fuck not. And if he’s crazy and imprisons you in his secret sex dungeon, I’ll take custody of your closet until you’re rescued. Anyway, boarding my flight. Talk to you when I land. Text me everything. Byeeeee.

So that’s what best friends are for. For pretty much being your inner voice and both of those evil and good chicks on either shoulder. All analysis, no real decisions.

Alright. So while Shreya didn’t really help me figure out what to say, she does make a good point. What do I have to lose if I do agree to meet him?

Wait. Sudden thought. What if he was just being flirtatious in the moment last night, since he was also drunk? And now that he’s probably sober, he may have just forgotten about this whole thing. And now, when it’s like almost 8 pm, if I text him with an actual answer, and he’s not into it, I’m going to look like a fool! And not looking like a fool is one of my permanent daily goals ever since puberty hit.

I can’t give a sober reply to his impulsive drunk-text. That would be just… I don’t even know what to call this. It just sounds unequal. Unfair.

Thanks, brain. Way to bring pessimism into this already messed up situation.

So if I do want to see him again, I have to say it in a way that sounds normal and non-impulsive. Great, that really narrows it down.

Okay, so here’s what I have. I can text him -

Option C: ‘Haha sure. How about drinks sometime next week? :)’

I think that sounds pretty nonchalant, right? It says I like your style and am also playful. And by giving my preference for the plan and a non-specified date a few days away, I’m taking control of the situation by not instantly gratifying his request. If he plays this well, he might be worth it. And that emoji is just to remind him of how cute I am, and obviously worth the wait if he’s smart about this.

Option D: ‘Hey! Sorry had a long day at work. What did you have in mind? :)’

Hear me out. This is quite honest. It acknowledges why I ignored his text all day, is not a direct answer (because I’m cool like that), and puts the ball back in his court so I can evaluate it. Based on his response, I can have a better idea about what he wants and is expecting, and still have the power to avoid or give a counter-offer. And I don’t have to explain that emoji to you again.

So here we are. Two paths. Two choices each.

And now I actually have to decide because it’s almost 10 pm and I have a feeling he’s checked that I saw his text four hours ago.

She saw my text. Four hours ago.

This is ridiculous. Why the fuck did I send her that text? Because that was creepy, right? Of course it was. Don’t try to be nice to me right now. Be honest. That smiley face is the face of a creep.

Why didn’t I listen to my friends and wait for at least a day before texting her? I mean, that’s what I’m supposed to do. That’s what I always do!

Should I blame the alcohol? Because it does seem to play a part in shifting a ‘why’ moment in to a ‘why not’. And yes, I get the whole ‘this is what I wanted subconsciously blah blah…’ – but come on, in practice a 50-50 move is quite a risk to take. Especially when the only thing on the line is my sanity, which I am quite certain is a bored, whimsical creature that lives in my mind and enjoys taking unannounced vacations.

When the question is ‘why’ and the answer is ‘why not’ – it means that sanity is missing-in-action and destiny has left the wheel on manual control as it takes a back seat and munches on popcorn while enjoying my slow but sure descent into madness.

And madness, that bastard never needs a vacation because it’s always having a good time.

So coming back to my current predicament. My phone has beeped probably 50 times today. Most of them were Whatsapp messages. And even though I really didn’t want to immediately check them because I was at work and wanted to seem calm and casual about it… I still ended up checking my messages within like five minutes of getting them every fucking time.

This was just a bad idea. I shouldn’t have done it. Bad call. Bad mind. Now I must live with the consequences.

Whatever. Forget it. I made an impulsive decision and it could have gone either way. She’s chosen the ignore-me path. So what? It’s not like there won’t be more girls like her. So what if she was the first girl I've met in the past year who turned out to be even better than I expected once we started talking? So what, I say.

So what is the sober-er twin of why not. He balances things out, in either direction. The third twin that no one talks about but is equally fucked up is what if.

So maybe she’s just like the rest of them. Beautiful. Fake. Unavailable. Uninterested.

Or, what if… she’s just busy. You know, I do remember her mentioning she had to go to work today because she had some meetings even though it was a Saturday. Maybe she’s just busy. Which is a good thing.

Well, so far that is the only good thing or reason to stay hopeful.

Alright. I’m going to be indifferent about this now. Or at least convince myself to be that way for as long as I can be. It’s almost 10 pm and I need a distraction. I’ll just call up my friends and go have a couple beers and try to not think about whether she texts me back tonight or not. Because let’s face it, if she doesn’t text me tonight, despite the boldness of my text to her, she really is not interested.

So fuck it, no wondering what she’s doing or isn’t doing or thinking or isn’t thinking.

So I get in my car and head to see my friends at a bar. I reach the place, and from the outside I can see through the window that my loyal compadres are already there, waiting for me with a couple pitchers and some new female friends they probably just befriended a few minutes ago.

And that’s when my phone buzzes.

I resist seeing it. I know where I’m going. I see my friends. But this walk towards them, which was probably going to take 30 seconds, now feels like forever.

10 seconds pass. And then another 20. And right before I reach our table, and right when I’ve reached the point where I think I’ll just let my phone sit on the couch for the next couple hours, it buzzes for the second time.

So I take it out of my pocket.

Two new Whatsapp messages.

From Radha.

What does it say?

Didn’t she tell you?

:)