So there I was, dreaming about new man precisely a few hours after I had met him. And 45 minutes after I had finished hitting self on the head with spiked boots for consuming alcohol like the glass was going to sprout legs and run away with the vital liquid sloshing inside it.
To get back to the dream. Or what felt like a dream. Which was the entire evening. I mean, how often do you meet someone and feel in the first 30 minutes that the powers that be have been highly unjust in not connecting the two of you earlier? In my case, though, pretty often. But in my defense, the ‘feeling’ has some basis in reality most of the times…
Anyway, to get back to it. There I was, lying on my ughy floral printed sheet over a lumpy mattress, replaying the entire evening over and over again in my head. Doing what I had done in my much younger days, i.e. try and interpret each look/statement/gesture etc… Effectively, dissecting the man within an inch of his life.
And if that wasn’t enough, I attributed my meeting him as a sign from above. Maybe not above, but definitely from some power that wanted me to put a stop to one relationship. A relationship that in all honesty was perhaps the best in my life, but one that was as mired in complications as the average politician’s public life.
So I just lay there and told myself that this was the beginning of my new life. An adventure, for which I had found a new friend to have fun with. I mentally listed down all the ‘commonalities’ between us and cheekily sidelined the differences. Not that I had found too many at that point anyway… You see, I was too busy trying to chart out my new life.
And then came the first roadblock. In the form of a conversation with the brain. A silent chat, but a chat nonetheless:
Brain: Please consider your age and stop behaving like a lovestruck teen.
Self: I am just being natural. True to form. Honest.
Brain: You don’t know the man. You just met him, for crying out aloud!
Self: So???
Brain: You aren’t even out of the relationship of your life, what on earth are you doing?
Self: This is a sign. I have met this man because he’s the one for me. I hope. I think… Oh let me dream on, dammit.
Brain: It is your funeral.
Self: Isn’t it always…
Brain: Do you see a pattern here? A self destructive one? Like how you never think things through? And jump headlong into potentially hurtful situations?
Self: Which part of ‘let me dream’ was in Swahili???
This is when a cold war ensued. Between brain and self. My self assertive move? I called the man the next day…
Note to self: I hate the brain.
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