Make up your mind, fate.

I don't understand.  I really don't.  Is this the universe's idea of a cruel joke?  Why do we meet people that we're not 'meant' to be with?  What does that even mean?  Is this some sort of test?  Here, meeting this awesome person who will make you sooooo happy....just kidding, you're not allowed to be with him despite the crazy connection the two of you have. mwahahahaha.  Not funny.  Or is it a test to see whether I have the strength to break from the norm?  Either way, I am not a fan of tests.

I was recently talking to my mom who had been running a few errands.  Along the way, she encountered a guy who supposedly could tell the future.  As she's incredibly worried about my single status, she spoke to him about me.  The guy said that he was surprised that I hadn't gotten married last year as the stars were aligned and things looked very strong.  As she relayed this story to me, she also added that she neglected to tell him about Walter.  I cut the conversation short as I was annoyed that every single time 'boys' were discussed, Joe was left out of it.  He was conveniently forgotten about and it was as if he never existed!

I found myself walking in the park with my mom a couple of days later.  I'm not sure how we got back to the subject of boys (then again, when are we not talking about boys), but I calmly explained to my mom that it wasn't fair that Joe was continuously left out.  He was the biggest part of my life to that point and it was ridiculous to pretend that the entire fight or discussion never occurred.  While I didn't understand why they reacted the way they did, I explained that I had to accept it and was trying to move on.  The situation had not been forgotten, however.

What seemed like out of nowhere, my mom says "well, if you really think that he's the right person for you, then just marry him. I can't stop you - you're almost 30.  I don't want to be blamed, down the road, if you don't find anyone else.  It'll ruin the family name in the community, but if it's what you think is best, then you should just go ahead and marry him.  Parents adapt - they always do.  I may not like it and may retreat for awhile, but eventually I will have to adapt, too.  It's hard to watch you go through your life, single.  Maybe I overreacted a year ago, I'm sorry."

Excuse me?  Are you kidding? (you must be) Are you just saying that? (probably) Do you actually mean it? (likely not) Are you saying that because I've already told you that Joe has moved in with his new girlfriend in Australia and is moving on with his life? (well, you're not a malicious person so probably not, it's just coincidence)  Now, a year later, you are giving me permission (albeit slightly backhandedly) to marry the guy I've tried to fight for, for the last how many years? I've tried to get over it in the last year and now it's back in front of me as an actual option... or are you just messing with me??

Why is it that women are always left to balance both cultures?  I have been born and raised in Canada - this is not how we think - we don't worry about 'family name in society'.  We worry about world peace and equality for all. We do our best to balance both worlds and find and live the best values from each.  We don't marry to 'fall in love later', but fall in love and then marry.  How is it possible for guys to get away with things?  If they married outside of the culture, the girl would be blamed for whisking the boy away from the culture.  But, if a girl marries outside of her culture, it's all her fault and who could she shame the family like that?

WTF?!?!?!  Where's The Fruit!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"  (I don't like to swear, WTF = where's the fruit)

Make up your mind, fate, please, make up your mind.

Mamma's boy...

Just before I moved to Halifax, I received an email from a guy through the 'mothernet'.  "Our loving mom's set us up," he wrote.  He sounded nice and I had nothing to lose, so emailed him back.  I explained that I had just had surgery so couldn't meet up unless I could find a ride and was moving to Halifax in a few days but that I would be back every so often, if he wanted to keep in touch via email to start and we could meet up when I was back.  I never heard back.

Eight months later, I received an email from him:

"Hey Anika, how are you? sorry i haven't kept in touch. i heard you went away and figured we get in touch when you came back. have you come back home? 

i can't see my mom anymore without her asking if i have reached out to you and i thought of you right now because she's coming back from south africa today. i don't mean to sound selfish but atleast i can say i tried to contact you before i see her.
hopefully we can meet up some time soon this summer if you are back in town. 

hopefully we can get to know eachother better soon.

btw, i requested to be your friend on on facebook just now...

keep in touch,

Sunny"

Completely unimpressed and annoyed by his email, I replied:

"Hi Sunny, 

Thanks for your email.  Honestly, you don't sound keen on wanting to stay in touch, so now feel quite awkward keeping in touch - I've been back for a few months... and your mom shouldn't be the reason for you emailing...
If you are not interested, please be honest with your mom and tell her that.
All the best,
Anika"

Upon the insistence of my friends to give him a chance, we've exchanged a couple of emails.  He's keen on getting together for dinner.  Me, not so much.  If a guy is interested in you, he makes an effort.  He doesn't wait 8 months to email you and then tell you that he's writing because he's afraid of facing his mom soon.  So is the interest genuine?  I'm doubtful.  

Again, at the insistence of friends, I will attempt to keep an open mind and will think about dinner...

New beginnings, new date!

After some back and forth and increasingly hanging out with Walter, it was very clear that I had dodged a major bullet.  He had managed to hide much of his personality for quite some time while we put plans in place.  Once things started to go wrong, his true colours came through and I thank my stars that things didn't work out.  

I decided that I could no longer stay in Halifax - I wasn't happy with my job, nor was I keen on staying in the same city as Walter.  So, I moved home and started over.  

There was a very tall guy on eHarmony who had been messaging me.  I hadn't been keen on meeting up, but I had nothing to lose.  And, maybe I'd be pleasantly surprised.  So, we went for coffee.  We had a nice, quick chat.  We were both on a time constraint, but discovered that we had common interests and we'd see where things went.

He set up a dinner/movie date a couple of days later and I agreed.  Through texts that we had exchanged between the two dates, I was quickly losing interest but tried to stay positive and keep an open mind.  It was his choice of conversation at dinner that ended things for me.  We were both teachers.  He taught high school PE while I taught science.  At his school, two female teachers shared a full time post for teaching high school boys PE.  He felt that a full time, male teacher would have been better suited to the task.  Asking why, he cited the inability of female teachers to go into the locker room if there were any issues as the main argument.  Surely he could go in and help if needed, I suggested?  I had worked with several female PE teachers who taught male students and this was the first time I'd heard such a concern. Female teachers were more than capable of handling male students, I insisted.  He disagreed.  He disagreed with me, a female teacher.  

Date over.  Next!

Who does that?!?!

When Walter didn't show up to Anna's birthday party, I was annoyed.  Annoyed the point where I felt that I should just be the bigger person, bring him a slice of cake and tell him to grow up.  So, I did.

Unfortunately for me, that turned into a 9 hour conversation, rehashing every detail of the relationship.  I was going around in circles and am not sure why I didn't just walk out.  What was I thinking?  Who rehashes the entire relationship, down to every detail?

Walter and I were back on speaking terms after that, and eventually he wanted to get back together with me.  No chance.  He wasn't happy with my decision, but that was too bad.  I was fine with being friends, but I was in no place to start dating him again.  And looking back, I'm so glad that I made that decision.  Here are a few snippets from the months that followed...

I made him and his family some Shrikhand (that yoghurt dessert that he likes so much) for Diwali.  Diwali weekend happened to be the weekend we were supposed to have our Indian engagement.  The dessert was a tradition for me to give to friends, and I knew he loved it.  On our way back to Halifax (we were in Toronto for the weekend), he thanked me for the dessert and asked if he could provide some feedback.  Um...sure, I guess... "Well, it was good and we enjoyed it.  But, for me, I felt as though there were too many pistachios and almonds.  Too much on top, for my personal taste", he said.  Who says stuff like that?

*************

Anna and Peter had started going to weekly trivia night at a local pub. I joined them and Walter graced us with his presence the first week we went.  It wasn't the most amazing trivia, but it was nice to have everyone out together.  Our team was tied with another after the second round and in order to break the tie, a game of rock/paper/scissors was to be played.  As we decided who was going to play for us, Walter had already gotten out of his seat and was off to represent us.  Okay, no problem - it was just rock/paper/scissors, how wrong could it go?  Walter and his opponent discussed whether to show their preferred choice on 3 or after 3.  This took a few minutes and it was decided that it would be after 3 and not on 3.  So off they went.  1..... 2.....Walter shows his sign.   "I thought we were going after 3," his opponent argued.  "Oh ya...okay, ya, after 3," Walter replies.  So they go again.  1...... 2...... Walter shows his sign.  "Oh, sorry - right, after 3," Walter apologizes.  Third time was lucky, thank goodness.  Walter not only got it right and showed his sign after 3, but also won.  Phew.  As we giggled at our table, he came back and issued evil glares to anyone who dared to make fun of him or smile at the situation.  *roll eyes*

*****************

Every opportunity he had, Walter provided me with 'feedback'.  Whether it was too many nuts on the yoghurt dessert dish, too much garlic in another dish, or the preference of jeans over leggings, etc, Walter always had feedback to provide.  He never saw any fault in it and maybe I should have just grown thicker skin.  It's how he was raised - continuous corrections.  It was in his blood.  He was in the military - the lifestyle suited him.  I never figured out if he actually believed it, but he came across as being superior to everyone else.  There was the military protocol, and then everything else.  It was funny.

**************

After having walked the streets of Paris for the day, we stopped for a bite to eat.  Walter asked if I'd like some hand sanitizer.  "I'd love some," I said, holding my hand out.  He opened the bottle and meticulously placed a drop of hand sanitizer on each of my fingers and thumb, before placing a slightly bigger drop on the palm of my hand.  I couldn't help laughing.  He didn't take kindly to the laughing.  "Why would you use hand sanitizer like that and not just put a blob in the middle of your palm and spread it around," I asked, thinking in my head that that's what most normal people do.
"Because it's more efficient this way," he said.
"And how is this more efficient?" I asked.
"This way you get the sanitizer on the places you use the most when eating - the tips of your fingers," he continued.
"That's not efficiency - you're a lawyer, surely you can come up with a better argument," I joked.
He was not happy and barely spoke to me for the next hour.

****************

We were walking in the park one day, he was in uniform.  One of the park 'guards' saluted him.  I asked about the protocol behind this and he explained that anyone of a lower rank had to salute someone of a higher rank.  "But," I asked, "what if the person doesn't realize that you are of higher rank or see?"
"I would quietly point it out that I was higher rank," he replied.
"But, what if you're out in a public park such as this one?  I mean, I guess it's fine to point it out for military things, but in a public park like this when you're just walking around?" I continued.
"It's protocol. I would point it out," he said.
Chill out, dude!

*****************

I think the funniest story was one that came to me about a month after I left Halifax.  Walter plays dodgeball.  The team has t-shirts, just like every other community league team out there.  Rumour has it, that Walter took his t-shirt to the tailor to get hemmed because it was too long!  Apparently Walter was endlessly razzed by his team...I have heard a lot of stories, but this last one definitely takes the cake for "Who Does That?????"

Case Closed.  End of story.  Good riddance!

The Bed.

My things were packed and sent to Halifax while I was in Costa Rica.  Walter had let the movers into my new apartment and had assembled my bed for me.  It was really sweet of him to do that.

About two weeks after my move to Halifax, part of my bed collapsed.  I did my best to repair the corner that didn't want to hold the mattress up and then just slept on the other side.  Until it collapsed while I was sitting in bed, watching TV with a hot cup of tea.  With hot tea all over myself, I cursed the bed and the person who had put it together.  It was a standard frame that worked well for years - the only reason it was falling apart now was faulty assembly.

So, one fine Saturday afternoon, I pulled the mattress off and examined the bed frame.  At this point, Joe and I were still talking every once in awhile and he was my first stop - the most handy person I knew on Skype would could look at the frame and help me understand what was wrong with it.

"It's been put together backwards," he said.
"How do I fix it?"
"Take it apart, flip the thing around and put it back together again - it's completely wrong and won't hold any weight the way it is - I'm surprised it's not in worse shape," he continued.

After half an hour of live Skype help from Joe, he had to go.  The time difference was too great and it was way past his bedtime.  Following his instructions, I disassembled the frame, flipped everything around and went to put it together.  I needed more tools than I had.  I called Walter... I don't know why.

With his sweatshirt tucked into his jeans and sporting a barely-bent ball cap (the combination was priceless), he showed up with his toolbox.  Because he'd put it together the wrong way, he ended up having to bend it out of shape in order to make it fit together.  Therefore, it was nearly impossible to get it back together, the right way.  I explained this to him and was wondering if he had any solutions because I didn't know how to fit it back together.  He sat cross-legged on my floor and stared at the frame.  He may have been trying to send it yoda-like messages to bend back to it's original form, but it wasn't working.  After five minutes of silence, I told him that it was fine - he could go home and I would figure it out.  I was annoyed and no longer wanted him to waste my time.  Another five minutes of staring at my frame went by.  Again, I reiterated that he could go; it was okay, I would figure it out and find a solution.  Yet another five minutes of staring at my frame!  'How many more times can I ask you politely to leave?!' I thought.
"Walter, just go. Please.  I'm not in a good mood, my bed is broken and I don't know how to fix it.  This isn't helping. Please go home and I will figure something out.  Worst case, I have my awesome papasan chair to sleep on, which is uber comfy, so I don't mind," I said.
He left.  (He later messaged me to say that I could sleep in his bed, if I preferred it over the chair - he felt bad about the bed.  Um...no chance. Nice try.)

Completely frustrated, I called Steve on Skype.  I didn't know if Steve could help but I knew that he was certainly more 'handy' than Walter was.

Steve, bless him, looked at the bed on Skype, drew a sketch of it and then proceeded to give me step-by-step directions how I could assemble it.  It wouldn't be perfect and it might be at a very slight slant, but  I could definitely put it back together and it would survive.  He had already been running late to meet friends when I had called and neglected to mention it.  Instead, he calmly helped my frustrated self put together the bed for the next hour before excusing himself.  He then checked on me, and the bed, everyday that week to ensure that his instructions had worked and I had bed to sleep in.  It was really sweet.

Childish behaviour

A week after I moved to Halifax, there was an event at the temple.  I wanted to go and Anna and Peter were taking me.  Anna was fabulously throwing me a 'Welcome to Halifax' party so that I could meet her friends and build a support network of sorts while I was there.  She was such a sweetheart!

About a month had passed and I had yet to speak to Walter.  He had deleted me off Skype after I brushed him off at the temple.  I'm not sure what he expected me to do - after everything, why would I want to speak to him?  He then stopped attending any function which would have any remote chance that I may also be there.  I didn't mind - if he wanted to act like a child, then so be it. I had no issues with him being around and I would be cordial, but that's as far as it went.

The last straw was Anna's surprise birthday party.  Walter chose the most inopportune time to speak with Peter about not wanting to come to the party, and then became upset when Peter couldn't give him his full attention.  He barely spoke to Peter after that.  Seriously? Are we five years old now? Who does that?  Man up, Walter. Man. Up.

The (brief) Return of Joe

Through the chaos of surgery, it was Joe's birthday.  We had promised each other that no matter where we were, birthdays were the one occasion that we'd exchange some sort of greeting.

I emailed...then called.  He wasn't expecting the call.  I caught him off-guard.  It had been nearly 6 months since we had last spoken when I told him that I needed time to figure things out and that I couldn't go through with the fight.  It had been six months since I had heard his voice.

We talked.  We caught up.  I learned that he had just started dating someone in Australia and it was long distance for now.  He was excited to hear from me.  He did what he always does when I throw him off course - he drank.  We talked, he drank, and then he called me back.  He missed me and was so happy to hear from me, but he didn't know what to do with that.  I told him about Walter.  He listened.  Joe was kind - listened to everything, was nice about Walter (though I knew he secretly was happy that things didn't work out because he knew I deserved better).  He told me he loved me.

For the few months that followed, the drama with Joe and I continued.  We skyped occasionally and found ourselves talking about the past and reminiscing a lot.  It made us happy.  We told each other how much we missed everything and how crazy it was for the two of us to still be in love, despite 4.5 years of long distance and the odds being against us.

But, it had to stop.  It wasn't fair to his girlfriend.  She was sweet, I'm sure, and she didn't deserve this.  It wasn't fair.  And so I told him.  Although it killed me to cut him out for awhile, it was the right thing to do.  He knew it.  I knew it.

I had conveniently planned a trip away while Joe was home for the holidays.  His sister was getting married and his girlfriend was coming with him.  I didn't want to be a part of that.  I didn't want to be anywhere near that.  So, I left town.  I missed him.  I hadn't seen him in a year and it wasn't likely that he'd be back again anytime soon.

We met up for half an hour on New Year's Eve.  It was like old times.  I was waiting at the counter of a store when he arrived.  I felt bad that I was in the middle of getting something fixed when he arrived and apologized.  "No worries, I recognized you by your very nice bum," he said, not skipping a beat.  It was like old times.

We caught up.  He snuck in a few digs at me and I'm sure it made him feel better.  "I'm looking forward to a 'normal' relationship," he said.  "She doesn't want me to change," he added, referring to the fact that we'd been long distance for four years and that I had asked him to quit smoking and preferred not to have meat in the house.  'Fine,' I thought, 'you can have that'.  You are doing what you need to do to move on.  History has repeated itself yet again - be a jerk now to make yourself feel better.  It won't help. He kissed me goodbye and went back to Singapore to pack his things up and move to Australia.

I spent the rest of the day balling.  We barely spoke after that.  One or two emails exchanged - none of which he replied to with any care.  I couldn't blame him.  He had moved in with his girlfriend, who by all accounts, was exactly like him.  While they were long distance, she had a rule that they had to Skype for at least an hour a day.  Who knew what kind of rules she had for when they were together.  Maybe he needed that structure, who knows.

And, a few months of nothing later, he emailed me for my birthday.  I was surprised but glad he remembered.  I waited to reply and eventually texted.  Our quippy text banter brought a smile to my face.  I missed him...I needed to move on.

Flashback - The Croissant Sprayer

I was living in Cambridge at the time and was browsing shaadi.com.  This guy also lived in Cambridge and was interested in meeting for coffee.  Sounds fine to me - I had nothing to lose.

We had exchanged a few emails beforehand - he made himself sound very important with limited time to meet.  No worries, we could work around his schedule as I was a student and my schedule allowed for more flexibility.  

"How will we recognize each other?" he asked.
"Well, I will be there anyway, working on my paper.  My computer has a green cover that is fairly distinctive, so I'm sure you'll spot me," I said.
"So you'd be the Hulkette, then," he said.
"Um.  Sure."

He had a classic case of 'talk a lot'.  He dominated the conversation, and normally I wouldn't mind.  But, this guy had decided that he wanted a croissant with his coffee.  Talking + eating croissant = messy conversation.  I had his croissant bits all over me.  Eww.

He asked me point-blank at the end of the conversation if I wanted to see him again.  I tried to get out of answering such an awkward question, but he persisted.  So, I was honest.  "No, I'm really sorry, I don't see this going any further, I'm sorry," I said sheepishly.

He got up and walked out, leaving his coffee on the table, surrounded by flakes of croissant which had come flying out of his mouth over the previous half hour!

The return of the bio-data

It had been awhile since the word bio-data had been uttered in my house.  But, the day after Walter and I broke up was not soon enough for my parents to bring up the subject again.  I could do nothing but laugh - my parents didn't know what 'taking time' meant.  It was best to just move on and forget about the bad things.  Bury it quickly and move on.  I indulged them because I was couch-ridden and had nowhere to hide.  My leg was healing from surgery and it was too painful to move.

The regular searches were made on shaadi.com and eHarmony.  I hadn't had much luck with either, but it passed the time to read people's profiles.  Nothing really interested me - I wasn't in the mood to be looking, but my day went faster because of it.

I revamped my biodata and updated my picture and my parents went to work.  I watched movies and did my best to get over Walter and move on.

About two weeks before I moved to Halifax, I met Steve.  He lived in Calgary and my family knew his.  He seemed like a nice guy and we caught up on Skype for a few hours and learned more about each other.  He was honest, up front and different from most guys I'd met.  And odd start, but a welcome change.  We kept in touch and he wanted to meet up, but I wasn't interested in him coming to Halifax.  I wasn't ready to date and needed time.  So we just kept in touch and would see where things went.  He was great for frank discussions about any topic (some that were surprisingly open and involved way too much information).

Let's see where the new bio-data takes me...

Seeking Permission

I texted Walter several times the night before my surgery.  I needed his comfort.  He never replied.

He called the next morning and apologized - he had been busy talking to his parents and brother and couldn't reply to my texts.  He wished me luck for my surgery and I went off to the hospital.

I texted him from the hospital.  My surgery was delayed by a couple of hours, so I let Walter know.  I had sent about 5-6 texts with no answer.  He must busy, I thought.

As I came out of surgery and was waiting in the recovery room with my mom, my phone rang.  It was Walter!  Finally!  I was excited to hear his voice, but something wasn't right.  He sounded distant and tired.

"Are you okay?", I asked.
"Oh ya, we can talk about it later," he replied.

Well, the can had been opened and so we might as well talk about it.  The benefit of a local anaesthetic is that you're not all woozy post-surgery.  I felt fine and my leg was still numb.  No better time to have a chat.

He explained that he had concerns - he realized that after talking to his parents and brother, that he was concerned about the fact that I had neural therapy in Costa Rica.  He wasn't sure how to react before when I had told him (while I was visiting him), but that after thinking about it, he was really concerned.  He was concerned because I hadn't spoken to him first.  I hadn't talked it over with him before having the treatment.  He was concerned that if something had gone wrong, I would have no legal recourse in Costa Rica.  He was concerned because we clearly were having communication issues (referring to the Marks Work Warehouse/Lulu jokes, and the Swiffer/vacuum & mail keys discussions) and wasn't sure how to rectify the situation.

I thanked him for sharing his views and concerns and assured him that we would talk soon.  The nurses were calling me and I needed to go.

Since the freezing was wearing off, I was allowed to go home and did just that.  The pain was setting in. I was thinking about what Walter had said.  He was concerned that I hadn't spoken to him first about Costa Rica?  Really? I was too tired to think and took a nap.

I awoke at 11pm at night and texted Walter to let him know I was heading back to the hospital.  I had lost all feeling in my foot and since the doctor's had failed to tell me I had a delayed block, I was a bit concerned. What if I had permanently lost feeling in my foot?  My mom and I spent the night in the hospital waiting to be seen.  Never fun.  We slept the entire next day after which I emailed Walter back as he was not answering my calls or texts.  Something was up.  He had completely disappeared.  I recollected the conversation from the previous day as best I could and replied to each of his concerns.  I explained that sometimes when he spoke, he came across as a 'know-it-all', which meant that I was defensive.  I shouldn't have reacted that way and apologized.  But, we both had faults and as I tried to work through them, I continued to explain that we clearly just needed to work through them.  As for the 'permission seeking' for neural therapy, I disagreed.  I explained that the clinic was impeccable, that legal recourse was not something we had in Canada let alone in Costa Rica.  I explained that I knew people who had received neural therapy and their conditions had improved and that nobody I knew or that research knew had side effects from the treatment considering it was all natural.  I explained that this doctor had been doing this for 30 years and he knew what he was doing, and that people from all over the world came to see him.  I wasn't sure what else I could write. I was happy for us to talk over the phone or on skype.

I didn't hear back.  I texted Walter the next day and heard nothing.  I texted again saying that I really just needed to hear his voice.  We had promised each other that we wouldn't run from anything and that we'd face any issues together.  He finally replied.  He said that he wasn't running, rather had some concerns.  (Clearly my email didn't work at solving anything).  I was happy to talk about them and he wanted to wait until his parents had left.  Fair enough.

As we drove up to the cottage a couple of days later, I looked up at the night sky through the window and wondered what had happened.  Only a week ago, I was talking about wedding venues and rings.  I visited my future fiance and although it wasn't the best visit, we were going to talk things through.  But, he disappeared instead.  I had barely heard from him in the last 5 days and I wasn't sure what I could do to bring him back.  When we reached the cottage, two hours later, I had an email waiting for me.  He was 'writing with a heavy heart'.  He didn't know how we could move forward with all of these differences.  He wasn't sure if we could resolve our issues because I wasn't communicating openly (hadn't asked for permission for neural therapy).  He felt that he had a right over my body (because we were talking about eventually getting married), just as I had a right over his.  I disagreed.  He felt as though there was a growing distance between us and he didn't see it coming.

I was shocked.  In lots of pain.  And in complete shock.  I didn't sleep.  I didn't want to reply via email, rather wanted to talk.  He wasn't willing to fly to down to see me and I couldn't because of the surgery, so we were stuck with Skype.  And that's what we did.  We talked for three hours, trying to work through things. I sent him information on neural therapy to assure him it was perfectly safe.  I told him that if he had made a decision as I did, I would have supported him no matter what.  I would have trusted him.  That was the difference.  And I was working through it because I had made a promise to him that I would.  We both had a lot to think about and arranged to talk on skype the next evening.  He never showed.  I received a lame message four hours after our meeting time to say that he got caught up in something.  I had propped myself up on a couch, in complete pain, so that we could speak.  And I, stupidly, waited for four hours on that couch for him to show up on Skype.

I deserved better.  A LOT better.  And I told him that.  That was it.  We tried to reconcile things once more after that, but he made it clear that his "heart wasn't into it anymore".  One day madly in love with me and a week later, his heart wasn't into it.  I did deserve better.  SO MUCH BETTER.  And, I was going to find it.

Time to revamp that bio-data of mine!

48-hour mayhem

On the second last day of my trip in Costa Rica, I was coming down the mountain and went over on my ankle.  The ankle that I had surgery on only a year and a half earlier.  The ankle that I had been so careful with and the last joint in my body I wanted to injure.  Only an hour earlier, I had had neural therapy on both of my ankles and my knee to break down the scar tissue.  It's a natural injection made up of caffeine and dopamine (or something similar) that basically helps break down scar tissue and reactivate nervous tissue.  When you have surgery, you can lose the sensation of your skin where the scar is - so that part of your skin doesn't feel like it's a part of your body.  Neural Therapy helps treat that - it's like restarting your computer when it stops working - this just resets your nerves.  All natural, no known side effects.  The only risk would have been from the needle the doctor used.

I was in an ecovillage that was started by a German doctor and a few other doctors also lived there.  He was a pioneer of Neural Therapy back in Germany and then moved to Costa Rica about 20 years prior.  He had been operating a small natural remedies clinic for 20 years from the village.  It was impeccably clean and well-run.  People from all over the world came to see the doctor who had treated cancer patients and extended their lives with similar treatments.  I was only getting scar tissue removed.  What I didn't realize is that the first surgery on my ankle had failed and the only thing that was still holding it in place, was scar tissue.  Getting rid of it meant that my ankle was incredibly unstable.

So, in immense pain, I was given a ride down the hill, and then hobbled the rest of the trip back to the UK and then back to Canada.  I went to see my knee surgeon (family friend) who recommended another ankle surgeon and set up an appointment the next morning.  After a quick examination, the ankle surgeon set me up with immediate surgery as the only option - he had opening in 48 hours and could take me in.  He would need to take a ligament from my hamstring and harvest it as the ligament for my ankle.  Cool, yet scary.  Since I hated being put under, my only option was to have a spinal freeze.  More dangerous but a much better recovery.

It was suggested that I go see Walter before the surgery as I wouldn't be able to travel afterwards.  I wasn't in the best of moods and my mind was on the surgery, but I didn't disagree.  I did want to see him - he would've made my world a little bit better.  We had been discussing rings via email/skype and I knew that he had purchased one.  I knew that he was planning to propose relatively soon because my mom had accidentally told me about the Indian engagement that was planned for the beginning of November.

My trip to Halifax was very quick - I went from the hospital to pack my bag and off to the airport and was set to return the next evening, less than 12 hours before I would be operated on.  Walter's parents, brother and niece were also visiting him in Halifax so it was a good time for me to see everyone.

The first thing we did was pick up my apartment keys.  Walter had been amazing with the move and while I wrote my thesis, he viewed and found me an apartment.  It was within budget and super close to his place (where we figured I'd spend most of my time anyway).  The move had been so easy and I was so thankful for all of his help!  He had met my superintendent and so picking up the keys was easy.  As soon as I got them, I was very excited...
"A mail key," I exclaimed, " I have mail!!"
"You might have mail," he replied.
"Really? Might? I have been forwarding my mail for the last month - surely there is something, even if it's junk mail!",  I retorted.
"But, you haven't checked yet, so how do you know for certain that you have mail?", he explained.
"Of course.  Let's move on," I said, slightly annoyed.  Thanks for bursting that bubble for me.

The afternoon progressed and he saw my vacuum cleaner.
"Did you test the theory?", I asked, referring to an earlier Skype conversation.  He preferred Swiffer on his floors while I preferred a vacuum.  He didn't think that a vacuum worked just as well (if not better) and so had to test this theory on his own (rather than just taking my word for it).  Fair deal, and I was curious to see if he'd tested it.
"No, I haven't had a chance," he replied.
Being a bit cheeky, I continued "well, I still think that Vacuum trumps Swiffer," with a smile.
"Maybe, we'll have to see," he said.
"Those sheets just fill up landfills and don't pick up as much dust," I regrettably continued, jokingly.
"Well... ... you get noise pollution from vacuums," he replied very seriously.
Clearly this was not a joking matter, so I digressed from the conversation.  "Let's not talk about this," I said.  Knowing that I only had 24 hours with him, the last thing I wanted to do was have a meaningless fight.

We went back to his place, met up with his family and went to dinner.  He told me that he had been to Marks Work Warehouse with his parents and picked up some new clothes.  He was very excited.  Remembering his Lululemon comment, I decided to poke a little fun and say "well, if I were to take you shopping, it's not where I'd take you".   Clearly, it was not taken very well, because I had to repeat the statement three times, each time increasing the emphasis on "I" and making it sound even more joking/sarcastic than before.  No dice.  He figured that it was off limits because if he wasn't allowed to joke about my clothing choice, I shouldn't be allowed to joke about his.  Since when had he been joking about my lulu's?  He persisted and said "well, if I were to take you shopping, I wouldn't take you to Lulu!".  Okay - fair enough... whatever, 'let's not talk about this', I said, dropping the subject.

We went for a long walk after dropping off his parents.  He seemed upset and clearly wanted to talk.  And, we did.  He told me that he had concerns - that he felt that when I said "let's not talk about this", it meant that I didn't want to hear what he had to say.  He felt that I wasn't listening to him and didn't want to hear his opinion.  I explained that I had a limited time to spend with him and I didn't want to have meaningless arguments.  My mind was clearly elsewhere as I was quiet for most of the conversation.  I didn't have much to say and wanted to hear him out before I responded.

The next morning, we went to find a few things from the boxes in my apartment.  We ended up having a long conversation, where he continued to discuss his concerns.  He felt that I didn't want to listen to him (still referring to the 'let's not talk about this' comment) and that we were not communicating well.  My concern was that he couldn't take anything as a joke or understand that everyone has faults.  My faults had clearly been pointed out but although he claimed to look at his own, he didn't actually see that he had any.  Even if we left the major things out, he couldn't see the small things, either.  For me, the quickest way to confirm (or refute) my theory was to ask one question.  Surely, someone who has grown up in Canada and has great friends would realize if his wardrobe (filled with old-man clothes) is 'cool' or not?  (I didn't actually care if it was or wasn't, I just wanted to see what his self-perception was).  So, with my head preoccupied about the surgery and not really wanting to have in-depth discussions about anything, I put my theory to the test.

"You know, Walter, I'm sorry if you feel that way.  I have tried to explain that your interpretation is incorrect.  I love hearing what you have to say and am always up for a discussion.  I just didn't want to have big discussions about little things that don't really matter.  But I do need to know the answer to something.  Do you think your wardrobe is cool?"

Just as I suspected, he answered "Yes," not understanding why I asked him that most random question.

I knew from his answer that he clearly couldn't see any faults with what he did or how he thought.  Nobody had really challenged him up until that point and I don't think he took kindly to it.  We had a lot to talk about and I was confident that we'd sort things out and move forward and grow together.  I didn't have all of the answers and I knew he didn't either.  But, together, we would sort it out.  We had made a commitment to each other, and we'd had minor disagreements like this before, so we'd definitely sort through these ones.

As we bid adieu at the airport, he was quiet.  I knew we had things to talk about.  I told him that we'd work it out and sort things out but for now I needed to focus on my surgery and recovery.  He agreed.  We were both quiet as we had one long final hug before I got on the plane and flew home.  We'd work it out...

Birthday presents...

My birthday had come only a few weeks after Walter and I had met.  He had shared a year of law school with my brother and they had both participated in the talent show that year.  He had the video and had promised to convert it to DVD for me so that I could see my brother's performance.  (He was also on the DVD for his (so called) comedic impressions of some of his professors.  I figure I didn't find it funny considering I didn't know the professors he was poking fun at).  Either way, a birthday card and DVD arrived about a week after my birthday.  If we're talking about gift quality, it's not what I would have considered a great gift - not from a guy who is supposed to be trying to impress you within the first couple of months of a relationship.  But, having said that, I was thankful that he remembered my birthday, that we had spoken on my actual birthday and that he had taken the time to send me something.  It was clearly a case of 'it's the thought that counts'.  I didn't mind so much.

I, on the other hand, am a bit more creative when it comes to gifts (as long as I have time).  He loved song lyrics.  He could remember the most obscure lyrics and know exactly which song they were from.  Although it was sometimes annoying, I admired his ability to remember things like this.  I certainly did not have that talent!  After finding about 60 songs that I liked that could potentially be used, I started to extract a line or two from every song in order to compile a letter.  Each sentence/phrase was from a different song, which turned into a 4-paneled card.  I burned the songs on a few cd's and used the titles to create a mini-story of how we met.  I thought it was cute.  And he had fun guessing all of the songs (which he managed to know just about all of them)!

Lesson: Creativity wasn't his forte... but that's okay.  It was minor and I could live with it.  Moving forward was definitely the right thing to do - I kept an open mind and kept going.

Cambridge

I was stoked!  I had finally completed enough of my thesis in order to take the weekend off.  All I had to do was send off the chapter to my supervisor after one last read.

I set off early to pick up Walter from the airport.  Since I hadn't had time, a good friend took my flat keys and picked up balloons and a 'welcome home' sign for Walter's arrival.  I had covered my car windows with funny cards/postcards all written to Walter for his journey home.  I love little surprises!

It was a packed weekend.  Rowing races, formal balls, tea parties and a surprise trip to Paris that Walter was unaware of. Exciting!

As we set off towards the river, Walter pulled out his first surprise - the t-shirts that said 'Go Anika, Go' on them.  Deja vu?  Very sweet though - I had my own fan club.

For the formal ball, Walter chose to wear his mess kit.  Talk about stunning man in uniform.  He looked great!  I was one of the few (from my set of friends) who had brought a date, so I wanted to make sure that we didn't create any awkward moments for the girls.  After all, Walter was a last-minute addition to the party as it was meant to be a girls' night out!  Walter didn't seem to understand that, despite my subtle hints.  He wanted to be clingy and boyfriendy all night.  And I felt bad, but being brought up the way I've been, public display of affection just aren't my thing and neither is creating an awkward situation with my girlfriends and I.  There was no reason we all couldn't have a good time just hanging out and dancing and save the lovey dovey stuff til later!  He couldn't take a hint (or several), and so it annoyed me.

The next morning, we met up with friends for brunch.  He really wanted to learn how to make an Indian dessert that I love to make (Shrikhand - pressed yoghurt + spices) so I quickly taught him before straightening my hair.  Normally to make it takes about an hour (50 minutes of which is just getting the water out of the yoghurt...ie. doing nothing).  The rest of the process should take no more than ten minutes.  Not for meticulous military man, though.  There was nothing like time-pressure with this guy.  We were running late for brunch and with no sense of urgency, Walter took 30 minutes to complete the recipe (let me clarify - the 'rest of the recipe' included scraping the yoghurt off the cloth and adding three spices. 30 minutes?  No offence, but a monkey can work faster!).  Clearly, I needed to have more patience.  That, however, wasn't even the best part.  When we got to brunch, my friends asked about the recipe (knowing it was why we were late), wondering if he liked it.  Now, normal boyfriend response would be "yes, it was delicious".  Walter's response: "it was good, but not as good as my mom's".  Who does that?!?

We rushed off to catch the train to London.  Walter hadn't been in awhile and I told him that I'd gotten us a hotel room in London for the night.  When we arrived, I found a cab that would take us to the hotel but asked him to look up the address on our confirmation.  He was confused and said "well, this can't be the right one as this is for Paris, we're in London."
"Well, check the date, maybe I mixed them up," I replied.
"It's for today, so it can't be right....wait..."
"Surprise!!!"

We had a quiet evening as we were both exhausted from the late nights before and wanted to make most of our only day in the city, the next day.  In the morning, we decided it was best to check out and spend the day walking around until our evening train back to Cambridge.  So, we got ready and checked out.  It took me about 20 minutes from start to finish (brushing my teeth to fully packed).  Walter, the meticulous army guy, had a definite way of packing.  Everything had it's place.  It was a slow and steady process.  Very slow and steady.  It took another 45 minutes before we could get going.  Patience, I kept reminding myself.  Everyone is different and it's about finding compromise.  I wondered how I would survive, though.  For most things, I worked on hyperdrive - I like to get things done and move on.  Would I be able to find patience for a man with whom every task is completed at a very slow (in relative terms) pace?  'Keep an open mind,' I thought to myself.  'This will be good on some level - he'll slow you down and you'll speed him up and you'll find the middle ground.'

The Fight.

I had spent an amazing New Year's with Joe.  We only had a couple of days together and I hadn't seen him since Paris (almost a year and a half earlier).  Things hadn't changed between us - everything was fun, easy, light-hearted and wonderful!

When Joe headed back to Asia, and I to the UK, we did talk about the difficulty of knowing that we couldn't be together and wondered if that would ever change.  I explained that I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.  Nothing would ever change my parents' mind so it was really whether or not I could fight them on the issue, and what I thought the possibilities were that they would even remotely accept what I was proposing.

Joe and I had some incredibly long, and difficult, conversations in the following month before we decided that I would tell my parents.  He wanted me to move to Singapore, I wanted him to move to the UK.  A lot of change was coming for both of us. Nothing good could come of fighting, but I had to try.  And, so I did.

I had my brother and sister come with me for moral support as I broke the news to my dad.  He had been expecting it - I had seen him in the UK a couple of weeks prior and had planted the seed that we needed to talk about boys.  He figured that I was going to talk about Joe.

The conversation was not pleasant.  I stayed quiet for the most part and tried to let my dad do the talking. It was emotional and heated and I would like to think that he didn't really mean most of what he said that morning.  He was disappointed and hurt.  He was angry.  I didn't understand.  I could only sit there and acknowledge his feelings and try to explain (with a lot of help from my siblings) that in fact, this was not a malicious act against my parents, rather someone I had met, gotten along with, fallen in love with and no matter how hard we had both tried, there was a bond there that couldn't be ignored.  That didn't matter.  He was Muslim.  My dad knew very little about Joe, except for his name.  He didn't want or need to know anymore.  That was it.  The barrier was up and it was barely going to come down, if at all.

Later that afternoon, it was evident that my dad was trying to see things from my perspective.  Our conversations continued for a month.  With each conversation, I could hear that he had spent many nights lying awake, thinking about Joe and I.  He sounded exhausted and worn out.  He was starting to treat it like a corporate error that required a PR campaign to put a positive spin on the situation, to help mitigate the community's reaction.  He knew that he couldn't convince the community, his family, my mom, or truly himself, that this was okay and acceptable.  He was torn between my happiness and everything else he had ever known.

What else could I expect?  It was far better than my mom's reaction, which involved a lot of yelling, name-calling, guilt-tripping...everything you would expect from a disappointed and distraught parent.  Could I blame them?  Not really.  They didn't know any better.  In their minds, they were dealing with this in the best way possible.  They were doing what they knew to be right.

And I?  Well, as usual for Joe and I, timing was not on our side.  His best friend was going through a very rough time and was staying with Joe.  Sharing a tiny bachelor apartment with your best friend means that you have little privacy, which for me meant that Joe had limited time to talk to me.  Unfortunately for both of us, this lack of time (in which an 8-hour time difference was far from helpful), meant that I was basically fighting this battle on my own.  I wasn't prepared for that nor was I sure I could handle it.

I can't blame my parents for their reaction - it was expected.  It's all they knew.  I knew it wouldn't be easy.  I just hoped it would be easier than it was.  I hoped they would, on some level, understand.  I hoped they would have a more open mind.

And I wasn't sure I was strong enough to face it.  I was mad at Joe for making me choose between him and my family.  I was mad at my parents for making me choose between my family and Joe.  Why did I have to choose?  Why couldn't the world just be the happy place I wanted it to be without prejudice and bitterness?

I've always had adventurous dreams in which I am the good guy, being chased by bad guys with guns.  Not far from an action movie of sorts.  Adrenaline filled dreams of being chased through alleyways, dodging bullets, etc.  I usually find them quite amusing when I wake up (I clearly watch too many cops/robbers shows).  Throughout the fight with my parents, sleep eluded me.  When I did sleep, my dreams were all over the place, reliving the arguments and discussions had with my parents about Joe.  Then, one night, I had another adventure dream.  I remember it well - I was once again being chased down tight alleyways and around corners and, finally, I had found a way to outsmart the people chasing me.  I cut them off around a corner and for the first time I dreamt that I had a gun in my hand and had it pointing at the people chasing me.  What startled me the most, and had me wake up in cold sweats, was the fact that on the other side of that gun, stood my parents.  The fight for Joe had to end.  Now.  And I had no way of explaining that to Joe.  How would he understand?

I did what I thought would be the right thing.  I did what would make everyone except two people happy.  Two people's broken hearts is better than many more...right?  I figured I didn't count, considering I was the one making the decision, so really, it was only Joe's heart that I was breaking.  And I had convinced myself that it was the right thing.  I reminded myself of all the things he had done wrong over the years to make myself feel better.  I convince myself everyday that we just weren't meant to be.  Our timing was never right.  And I never told Joe about the dream nor all of the details of the fight.  Just that we couldn't have been meant to be.

A year later, I still get annoyed thinking back at it.  The same questions always come up - will I find someone else who made me as happy as Joe did?  Did I make the right decision?  Will it all work out?  Perhaps it's just the place that I'm in now where those questions come up more frequently than at other times.  How long would it take me to stop second guessing and get over a decision that (as someone rightly pointed out) wasn't mine to begin with?  I wasn't sure...

My hope is that I will never resent my parents, and that Joe will never resent me.  I can't blame my parents for how they reacted - it's all they know and in their minds, they are doing everything they can to protect me.  I will never understand it, but I have to accept who they are.  As for Joe, I'm not sure he will ever forgive me.  I'm not sure he'll ever realize just how bad things were and how much I truly needed him to be by my side (and not 8 time zones away!).   I made the decision.  I chose.  And, I will live with the consequences...for better or worse!  My fingers are crossed, for better!

It was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved before - and I remind myself of that each morning.  I have to...

Flashback

I am watching the hockey game tonight and there was an ad for some sort of alcohol with the tagline "purer than your intentions".  It reminded me of a guy I once knew.

Josh was someone I met at a high school conference.  We ran against each other in the mock national election (where we had to choose a famous Canadian to represent).  He ran as Pamela Anderson and I, as Mike Myers.  We kept in touch after the conference, but as most random connections go, we went our own ways and that was that.

Four years later, we ended up another youth leadership conference together, without realizing that we'd see each other.  A definite blast from the past...

A few months later, we learned that we'd be interning at the same company for the summer.  We became good friends that summer, playing on the corporate softball team together, helping with the company's Junior Achievement team together, etc.  It was great and to boot, we both had full time offers for the following year, by the time we finished that summer.

After working (and socializing) together for almost a year, I learned that Josh was dating (rather randomly sleeping with) one of my co-workers.  I always knew him as a bit of a player so wasn't surprised that he was sleeping around; however, what I wasn't expecting is the dialogue that followed.

With quite a few friends, we met up at a fabulous jazz club.  I hadn't seen him in about a week and he came up to me right away:

"Hey Anika, how's it going?"

"All is well, thanks," I said, giving him a hug.

"You know, I've been thinking about us, and I've been meaning to talk to you," he continues.  "I just think that we'd make a really good couple.  What do you think?"

"Well, Josh, it would definitely ruin our friendship and I kind of like our friendship the way it is", I try.

"But, I want more than friendship and I think that we'd be really good together", he persists.

"Well, we just have different ways of viewing things, I think", I insist.

He looked into my eyes, looked down to the floor for a brief moment before looking at me again, with slightly sadder, puppier eyes and said: "No, I don't think that's the case.  I think we have the same morals and values... ... you should just do a better job at living up to them than I do!".

Great pick up line!

He went home with the co-worker that he'd been sleeping with...

Confession

Back in university, I had glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling.  It was my absolute favourite things about my bedroom.  I've always been mesmerized by the night sky and although it wasn't real, there was something about having glowing stars above me that made it very peaceful to fall asleep to.  When I moved home, four years later, I took them with me and, again, put them up on the ceiling of my room.

The upside: I still have a ceiling full of glowing stars to fall asleep to.  Bliss!
The downside: Joe had become a big part of those stars - always naming one or the other after me...

In the last few weeks, I've been back in my old room, with the glowing stars.  I stare up at them every night before I go to sleep.  I think of Joe and the memories we had together and I miss him.  More than anything, I miss his friendship - the laughter and sillyness, above all else.

I sometimes feel silly missing him like this - I know I made a decision and it was up to me whether I fight for 'us' or not.  And, it's because of my decision that he moved further away and has moved on.  So, do I really have a right to miss him, all things considered?  Am I allowed to stare up at the stars and wonder if I might ever hear from him again?

Allowed or not, I will fall asleep tonight thinking of him.  Rather than miss him, I will choose to remember the fun times that we shared and be thankful to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all...because, honestly, what else can I really do?

Reputation vs. Love vs. Culture vs. Values

I could keep going with the title - it's everything vs. everything.  So many conflicting views, most of which are just that, views.  No right, no wrong... just opinions (many of which I disagreed with).

I was torn as to whether or not to fight for Joe.  On one hand, I had this amazing guy that I had gotten to know over the last ten or so years.  Sure, we had our ups and downs and moments of really not liking each other.  Yes, I probably could've found someone who had treated me perfectly without ever making me cry, but, could I have found that someone who also made me laugh as much as Joe did? Or feel as loved and special as Joe did?  It was Joe who was sitting in my car who turned to me and reassured me that "even in your baggy hoodies, sweatpants and toe-socks, you will always be my princess".  I didn't need to be anyone but myself with Joe.  He knew the worst side of me and loved me in spite of it!  Or was it all just about comfort.  We had such a long history together, that we couldn't really imagine ourselves with anyone else.  When we were together, things just worked and we had gotten into a groove...and that level of comfort was always easier than trying something new.  So many thoughts were running through my head and I wasn't sure what to do.  A huge part of me said "FIGHT!", while a much smaller part of me worried about my family (and the parental fallout that would undoubtedly ensue)...

I had emailed a couple of good friends who had known the worst of our relationship.  They knew me through the very rough few years that Joe and I had been through where I honestly should have given him the curb-side checkout.  But I hadn't and for some reason, I couldn't.  Both warned me against the fight, and believed I deserved better.  They loved me dearly and supported me no matter which way I decided to go with it, but strongly believed that I would find someone who I could not only be myself with but would treat me as I deserved to be treated.  As I try to do with most advice, I took it with a grain of salt and understood their points, but really had to figure out what I wanted for myself.  After all, I was the only one who was really privy to all of the intimate details of my relationship with Joe.  These amazing friends had seen me through the worst of it, but I hadn't been talking about Joe to anyone for the last few years when things had been great...

I had spoken to my siblings and all of them were amazingly supportive and believed in fighting for true love.  Admittedly, my sister was already threatening to beat Joe to a pulp if anything went wrong or if he ever hurt me in the slightest.  I was touched... :)

And so, I fought.  I challenged the idea of our family's reputation within the community would be ruined by being with a man of Muslim background.  I challenged the cultural norms of marrying someone within the community.  I challenged the values that my parents had held for their entire lives.  I stood up for my values.  I stood up for what I wanted.  I stood up for what I believed in.  I stood up for love.

Cruisin' like Tom...

Shaadi.com has been a great source of 'interesting' dates.  I had reluctantly put up a profile after several threats of my mom putting one up for me (which I think she eventually did regardless of my own profile), just after graduating from university.

I met Fabio who was tall, handsome and successful.  He was vegetarian, spoke Gujarati and seemed like a nice guy.  We exchanged a couple of messages online, then moved to texts.  He seemed to have a decent sense of humour and I looked forward to our conversations.  Within a few days, he was keen on meeting me in person and I had no objections.  I had plans to be at a house party that night and he was welcome to join me.   I was a bit nervous, and had invited a friend over to be with me when he first arrived at my door.  It was the first time I had given my address to anyone and for all I knew, he could've been a complete psycho!!

I had forewarned him about the house party, that my friends were pretty laid back and that everyone would likely be in jeans and a t-shirt.  Regardless, he decided to wear ultra-nice jeans and an off-white blazer...dressing to impress, I thought! (I later found out he was a total pretty boy).  And, with a box of chocolates and a mini bottle of champagne in hand, he was clearly out to make a good impression.  I was just thankful that he was who he said he was - tall, handsome and definitely didn't seem psychotic!

He wasn't keen on walking to the party (about 15 minutes) and insisted on driving.  I think he just wanted to show off his hot Mercedes.  I wasn't complaining.  It was raining and I had straightened my hair...a ride was the best thing I could ask for and in a classy Mercedes was a pretty good deal!! :)

I was impressed with Fabio's manners - after the party, he insisted on dropping my friend home to her house.  He was chivalrous, kind and funny.  When we arrived back at my place, he held my hand...but then almost tickled my palm while holding it.  It gave me chills and I did my best to hide it.  How do you tell someone that what they think is 'sexy' or 'intimate' is actually giving you chills down your spine...especially on a first date?!

We agreed to meet again the following week.  We went out to dinner and a jazz concert with a few friends and had a great time.  He was kind to my friends and tried to interact with and get to know each one of them.  When we got back to my place, we were talking and somehow the discussion ended up back to me.

"I think you should wear make-up," he said.
"Why?", I asked, curious to know where this was headed considering he knew that I wasn't a girly girl and had never actually owned makeup in my life.
"Just some lipstick," he said.
"Why?  What's wrong with my lips?" I continued?
"Nothing is wrong - it would just help accentuate them a little, or help bring out your cheek bones a little...".
"But, why do I need to do that? I don't believe in makeup," I countered.

I proceeded to reiterate my stance on makeup and that girls shouldn't have to wear makeup to feel beautiful or to be called beautiful by guys.

"Well," he said, "if it were socially acceptable for guys to wear makeup, I would...to you know, look more like Tom Cruise or whoever the girls are crazy over.  It would help me look better just like makeup is for women," he dared to say.

"Oh really?" I asked, choosing to ignore part of his statement for the time being, "You would wear makeup if it were socially acceptable?".

"Yes, and I think lipstick could be good for you,", he replied.  "I mean, let's face it," he continued, "no guy is going to get with a girl if she's not wearing makeup and if he does, then he'll probably just cheat on her with someone who does wear makeup and is prettier than her!"

WHAT?!

Shaadi.com interest DECLINED!

My first official marriage proposal...

I met Bob while teaching in the UK.  He was from Australia and had taken on a supply (substitute) role in our department.  We got along well - he was laid back, great with the kids and had a wonderful sense of humour.

I knew that he had a crush on me, but that was the extent of it.  I had never dated a white guy and nor had I ever thought about it.  So, we both knew that there was no hope for a romance budding from our friendship.  That wasn't going to stop Bob, though!

He had crazy curly locks, just like Bart's nemesis, Bob, on the Simpsons.  It was hilarious.  We were at a department social having dinner, when he looked up at me and asked what he could eat.  He was new to the world of dietary restrictions and we had recently determined that we had the same food allergies and he wasn't sure what he could have.  Instinctively, he shouted across our large table: "Anika, what is there on this menu that I can eat?"

"That's easy, Bob", I replied, listing off five or six dishes that he could choose from.

"Amazing, you should be my wife - will you marry me?!"

He's just not that into you...but his mom is!

Another random email appeared in my inbox.  It was an introductory email from Kunal, which provided his basic details and standard information.  He had received my email from his mom and I could only assume that it was my mom who had given it to her.

A couple of emails were exchanged, after which, it was clear that he wasn't interested in taking any further steps.  So, that was the end of that.

Not so.  I started to receive emails from his mom.  At first, they were just asking how I was.  Then, they started to ask if Kunal and I were still talking and how nice it would be if I would write to him.  I tried to be as kind as I could, thanking her for her emails and briefly mentioning that I hadn't heard from Kunal in awhile (trying to hint that it was in fact her son who was not interested, nor writing, not me).  Her emails continued.  But instead of just 'how are you' emails, they came before special occasions.

"Kunal's birthday is in two days and we are exciting that he'll be home to visit at that time - it would be so nice if he heard from you on his birthday", she wrote.  Not wanting to be rude, I ended up dropping Kunal a one-line email, indicating that his mom had let me know it was his birthday (or else how stocker-ish would that have been for me to 'figure out' his birthday?) and politely wishing him the best for the year ahead.  I never heard back.

In fact, in all the times that I had written Kunal, at his mom's request, I never heard back once.  I'm not surprised, though; he'd made it clear that he wasn't interested in chatting.  After subtly mentioning it a few times, he must have spoken to his mom....finally!  No more emails from Kunal's mom, time to move on... until I received an email from his sister!!

(thankfully Kunal's sister got the hint more quickly!)