R, Happy Birthday!

2 years and 1 days ago, I was under some hysterical mode. It was a day before the birthday of the love of my life, R and I needed an awesome cake. More so because my man loves to eat.

Being a baker myself, I knew exactly what I wanted but because I had to be at work at the entire time, I wasn’t sure I would have been able to give it the time it deserves. And this cake deserved time although it wasn’t very fancy.

I reached out to a few home bakers through a facebook group and sounded like a crazy woman with OCD interviewing experienced bakers on every step of how will they make the cake I want. I was clear. I wanted a two layer chocolate cake with mocha fresh cream frosting lined with Kit-Kats and topped with Nutties. That simple!

After a bunch of these crazy calls, I finally placed the order with one lady only to get a call back from her in about half an hour telling me how little she would be spending on the required chocolates. She lost me half through that 1 minute phone-call making me regret about giving her the order. I hung up hastily, trying to think of a good reason to give her and cancel the order. Not being unable to think of anything more convincing, I called her back and told her that I would be doing it myself.

I left work and ran around the whole of town trying to get my ingredients in place. Unable to find Nutties in over 10 stores, my panic levels were on the rise. Think the heavens above took pity to my misery and led me to a store from where I picked up all the packs they had in stock. I knew I may not have needed all of them but I didn’t have the time to risk it.

I got home to my pots and pans and whisked all the things together in butter, sugar, cocoa and love. Five hours later and minutes away from midnight, I finally had something in place.

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Although we aren’t together anymore, this day is and always will be special. Happy Birthday, Love.

 

 

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R – Much to my anticipation

I’d never been on a date ‘date’ before that. The guys I was seeing before R were either from college or work. So there was already a sort of familiarity. I was newly single after a three year long toxic relationship and was just exploring tinder.

My first meeting someone on tinder went horribly wrong (more about that later). Hence, I was skeptical about meeting more people from tinder. Nevertheless, R, someone I matched with on tinder, sent a ‘Hi’ and I reciprocated. We chatted for a bit of the day for he next two days and I was still unsure of absolutely anything at all. All I knew was the tinder chat was tedious so I offered to switch to Whatsapp.

We continued to chat about random things we he asked me the next day if it’s okay for us to speak over a call. I froze at the very idea of it. A million incoherent thoughts went through my head. All stupid ones and they just wouldn’t stop. I just told him that I was nervous about speaking on call. He seemed like the kind of guy who would make me go weak in the knees. I just didn’t know how to handle it. He promised it would be okay and I so wanted to believe him.

When R called that evening for the first time, I didn’t have it in me to pick up the call. Those incoherent thoughts hounded me again. I sent him a text saying that I would call back in 30 minutes and with every passing second I was just becoming a bigger wreck. 45 minutes into tell him that I would call back, I finally gathered the nerves to dial his number. His ‘Hello’ sounded so familiar. It did put me to ease but I was still nervous. Really really nervous.

We spoke for a good 45 mins as I paced quickly in the parking of my building. I realized I was speaking much too fast and too much and I am pretty such my heart rate was upwards of 100 because in the middle of our conversation he asked a couple of times, “Why are you gasping? You sound breathless, are you okay?”. Little did I know that I was already in trouble. I had begun to fall in love with someone I’d never met, spoken just once and chatted with a few couple of times.

We chatted and spoke on call on the following days and he asked me in one of those conversations if it would be okay for him to kiss me the first time we met. I didn’t think. More like I couldn’t think of the perfect reply. I just asked him not to ask me in the moment in case he plans to go for it.

It was the first Saturday since we had started chatting and I was in the middle of just another regular day. R messaged me around noon asking me if I wanted to go out for a drink in a couple of hours? ‘Weren’t we suppose to meet for breakfast tomorrow?’ was the only thing I thought and just said yes. I knew if I thought about it at all, I would’ve overthought.I tried to stay calm but had panic written all over me. I had never been on a date ‘date’ before that. And although I had just seen his pictures on a dating app, it was practically a blind date! What should I wear and a few hundred other ‘W’ & ‘H’ questions filled me up and I had no answer to any of it.

Ofcourse OCD kicked in and I reach before time as I never understood the concept of fashionably late. It’s often so that on a date, the girl comes in later than the guy where he gets to pull the chair for her and blah blah blah. In this case, I was seated, flipping through the menu, even considering downing a drink to calm my nerves and nervously anticipating what my reaction should be the first time we met – for a moment I even considered if I should pretend that I didn’t recognize him. I knew it was any moment now.

R walked in so coolly! He looked around and spotted me. We both smiled and he just started walking towards our table.

He was HOT! Why did he even want to meet me? Do I look okay? I look trashy! Should I just hide? He is so tall! I am so short! Much like a midget in front of him. I am so inappropriately dressed. He is HOT! He is gorgeous! – some of the many million things running on my mind. Nervousness overtook and I needed a drink. Calm down me!

I was still having a hard time comprehending what to say or do next. He came and sat next to me. I asked him to choose my drink since he was familiar with the place and it was my first time there. I don’t remember what exactly we spoke about but I am pretty sure that he was the one who spoke the most while I shredded a piece of tissue paper to the tiniest of bits and the bits into further bits – all unconsciously while so engrossed in the conversation all due to nervousness.

I have little idea how quickly the next 6 hours flew by. We were both high (me much more than him) and all that was then on my mind was ‘Are we going to kiss?’. We got to the elevator and much to our luck, were joined by another guy and I knew nothing was happening. But much to our luck again, the guy got off on the next floor and now it was just the two of us. I couldn’t help but smile, cheese and looked at him. It was quite blur but I am pretty sure he was smiling too and just bent down and kissed me. It was magical. I just wish the elevator had some stopped mid-way and we kissed for longer. He left me in giggles and the butterflies in me felt alive again.

More later.

The thing about love is…

You know the thing about love is that when I happen to know that there’s just no hope for us to be together and yet I still pray to make it work. It’s when my mind says ‘let go’ but the heart says ‘hold on’. It’s when I dream of you every night only to wake up in the morning with tears in my eyes. And most of all, it’s when no matter how hard I try to forget and move on, I just can’t cause I love you so much and I have no reason why.

 

Madness

Love is madness. It is so crazy that it makes me want to pull my hair out over someone the same moment I want to hug him sweat tight. It complicates when I want it to be simple and it simplifies to the point of being boring when I want it to be exciting.

Love makes me want to write. Sometimes the words just flow out of me. It fills me up, consumes me and makes me want to destroy myself in it. I am the hopeless hapless kind when I am in love. I am always in love but sometimes when it fills in me to the brim, I like to stop thinking the right and want to make the wrong. Love flows, tempts, ebbs but never leaves. It never should.

Bliss

On a lonely beach, where I would walk the shores while the sun painted the sky pink and the little waves ran and kissed my feet. Indulging in sinful chocolates, I slip into a tub of foam surrounded by sweet smelling candles and rosy petals, mimosa in hand.

Sinking into your arms I close my eyes to bliss. 

A whisper saying “i love you”. A blush. A smile. A tender kiss. 

A night of deep heated passion spend under a moonlit sky while the waves could be heard crashing nearby.

A snuggle and I open my eyes to the morning to see you sleeping peacefully with a smile curved on your lips and I close my eyes again to dreams.

The thing with love is that when you are alone in the middle of such picture postcard moments, you will miss that special someone around you.

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I don’t know who you are and where you be, I just know that you belong with me and I am right here waiting for you.

Sharing doesn’t feel like Caring

As a kid, in school I attended these Moral Science classes and one of the key lessons taught was that ‘Sharing is Caring’. As profound and noble the thought is, the idea of sharing never really appealed to me – specially of things and people I really prized.

A couple of years back, I met a guy on a dating app that I was randomly exploring. We started chatting and then talking and then when we met, I fell in love with him. He said we were dating exclusively but didn’t want to commit to a long term relationship since he would be in another country a year from then. I may not like sharing but I never force anyone to be with me. It’s a choice they should make.

A few months later, as blissfully as we continued ‘exclusively dating’, all the while me being madly in love with him, he told me that he was in love with me too and that we should be in a relationship. He seemed sure of it despite the distance that would separate us physically soon. Long distance requires a lot of work definitely, but never really scared me. The sense of belonging to someone keeps me strong and grounded.

I continued to be blissfully in love in my new relationship for a few more months before he left for his higher studies to another country. We were apart in distance and time. It wasn’t the ideal situation but I didn’t think it was taxing. I had been in a long distance relationship earlier when I was way younger and that time I felt it was too difficult. I had matured since.

A few weeks into our long distance relationship, we started having issues that made little sense. I knew he wanted to leave and I didn’t want to force him to stay. He left, but once in a while kept coming back just to check on me – check whether I had moved on. I hadn’t. I couldn’t. I was still  in love with him. A year went by, more than a year went by. He said he wanted to meet since he was visiting the country and I agreed. I couldn’t say a no to him. It was still the same. I wanted him and he didn’t want me. I don’t even know why he wanted to meet. Felt like torture. I had no idea what I was holding onto. Probably the hope that meeting me would change his mind. It didn’t.

He went back and I felt my feelings fade. It had been over a year and I didn’t have any more hope. It had to be over. I needed to move on. Honestly move on. I chanced upon someone on the internet and we started chatting. With every moment, I felt my feeling for him go away. I was beginning to feel positive again. Then one day, some few weeks later, he messaged me again, asking me something intimate. I just couldn’t go ahead with that conversation. Felt like I was cheating on the other guy. We weren’t in a relationship yet and neither were we dating but it just didn’t feel right. So I just told him that I am dating someone else.

He was furious, angry, sad. I felt it but I couldn’t do anything about it. More like I didn’t want to do anything about it. The more I introspected, I realized that I had no feelings for him whatsoever. It ended the day he came and asked me for an open relationship some weeks earlier. He said he loved me and always would but he wanted to be with someone else physically. Sex was important to him. For once, when he said ‘I love you’, something that I was yearning to hear from him, didn’t feel nice. It didn’t feel at all. He wanted me to be okay to sharing him physically. I couldn’t do that. From all those moral science classes, sharing just wasn’t what I learnt.