Wednesday, December 15, 2004

In days yonder, which means around 3 years ago, I was very eagerly exploring the dating scene. I had been in the US for about little less than a year, had been dating sporadically but with not much success and was feeling a bit constrained for choices. My brief relationship just before leaving India was not substantial enough to warrant a long distance relationship. I was very fond of Saad, but he had been a bit of a jerk occasionally and used to get sentimentality attacks and pangs of remembrance for his ex-girlfriend at the oddest of times (think after we've made love). So I was single and looking, and yet felt peculiarly constrained. I was in a new country and did not understand much of it. All the cultural references, at least the pop culture ones completely eluded me, since my childhood and adolescence had been mostly Hollywood and American tv-free. So I decided the safest route is to stick to Indian men. This didn't work. Most of the Indian men I encountered were engineers and unidimensional. Which is not to say that all engineers are unidimensional, but the ones I met were.

In the meanwhile, I had been acquainted with a Spanish Fulbrighter who was in LA for a year to study film. He was interesting and funny, and a bit cute (though my friend who looked at his picture later said he looked like a bear). But I wasn't thinking of going out with him, and he didn't indicate anything either. And then, in the summer when he finished with his coursework and had some time we went out for coffee. It was a lot of fun and we decided to meet up for a movie. After the movie he invited me over to his apartment for coffee. It was a small apartment in Hollywood, and I remember that the building had a lovely art deco style fire escape. Nice, if ever the need arises to escape, do it in style. So we sat drinking coffee and at some moment he held my face in his hands and kissed me. After we had sex, for some strange reason I didn't want to stay over. I wanted to be dropped back home. I think I figured out later that deep down I didn't want him to see me in my ghastly underwear (pre-Victoria's Secret days). At night, I had insisted that lights should be off. Of course he never called me up. I, the silly being that I am actually called him up twice thinking it could be just the same as before and we could go back to the same asexual vibe. That's precisely why I didn't see such textbook seduction techniques coming (my friends had a laugh about it later, yeah right "just a cup of coffee").

But that apart, I think I really enjoyed my one night stand. I think at that point all I was looking for was some physical intimacy, and I was trying to garb it up with pretty sentiments. It was good to come clean. What it also peculiarly did was get over my hangup about only dating Indian men. And then several men, several dates, and another one night stand later, I met my S. But that's another story.

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