Life is...

Last night I was in a bit of a blue funk. What with my heart all topsy turvy at sighting an old somewhat-ex and then, almost simultaneously, meeting an old crush at Saturday night's party.

This old flame, I'll call him Ahmet, was the love of my life. We met a few years ago and hit it off like chocolate ice cream and a mixed nut topping (what? You can't have chocolate ice cream without nuts okay?) He wasn't conventionally good looking, but he had this easy confidence and a quick wit that would have me rolling with laughter in seconds. He oozed charm. Oozed it, it leaked from his every pore. We flirted back and forth and our sms's were filled with light banter and sparkling repartee. I fell for him like a stack of glass plates crashing to the floor. Hard.

There was one tiny problem. He'd had a steady girlfriend for almost six years. He wasn't cheating on her or anything, the further-est we'd ever gotten was harmless flirting - on his side. I on the other hand, was head over heels.

He got married to his girlfriend not long ago, which I know in my heart of hearts was the right thing to do. But that doesn't make it any easier for me. The selfish, insensitive she-devil that I am. Seeing him again at Saturday night's party with his beautiful wife brought back bittersweet memories. We talked a little, albeit awkwardly. The butterflies and friction were still strong, and the eye contact was as long and soul deep as it had always been.

I'm not usually the remorseful type. I try not to let things get to me, I honestly believe if something's meant to be, it will. So if it doesn't work out the way I want it to, I let it go as best as I can - I know there's something better out there. But last night, for possibly the first time in my life, I felt the pangs of deep regret. If only I'd given quasi-ex a chance. If only I'd not let stupid, superficial things get in the way of knowing him better. If only Ahmet had not had a girlfriend. If only we'd met earlier, before he'd had her in his life. If only.

Sometimes you just have to grab whatever life throws your way with both hands. Close your eyes, take a leap and jump for the stars with full faith that you'll land between them. Unless of course, that particular star is already conquered and occupied. Then you just return to base, ready to take a high flying leap at the next beautiful star that comes your way.

Shit, now I sound just a little bit stalker-ish.

I read this somewhere and found it particularly fitting; "All that matters in the end is how fully you've lived, how deeply you've loved, and how well you let go of the things not meant for you."

A Matter of Marriage

I just re-read yesterday's post and realised most people would probably be thinking "What the..?!" at the:

"and then proceeded to turn down marriage proposal after marriage proposal after marriage proposal."

No I'm not some miss world lookalike (although I do like to think I could be. heheh).

Let me explain.

In our East African-with-Indian-roots community, any girl hitting the ripe old age of 18 is likely to get atleast 10 proposals a year. This is done courtesy of eagle-eyed, match-making huntress aunties who are always, always, on the lookout for the perfect wife for their son/ nephew/ friends' neighbour's sister's son.

They catch you at weddings and in the shops and in deep, dark alleys; critically eye you up and down (trying to catch any physical flaws and disabilities) and, if you meet their requirements, find out who you are (who your parents are I mean, cause you don't matter), where you live and what you do. If you're pretty enough, educated enough (although that's not really all that important) and can cook, you're all set. Added to her list of eligibles, to be made un-eligible at the earliest opportunity.

There are two sorts of marriage set-ups. There is the "love marriage" where a boy and a girl (boy-boy and girl-girl fiercely frowned upon) meet each other somewhere, fall in love and end up getting married. The usual girl meets boy, live happily ever after story.

And there's the arranged marriage, which has evolved over time to become a sort of "arranged+like marriage." Thanks to the huntress aunty, the young girl stranger meets the young (or old) boy stranger (note: the girl always has to be young, attractive and preferably martha-stewart-esque in the home and kitchen. The boy on the other hand, can be young, old, divorced, widowed or pigeon-toed). (No offense to any pigeon-toed people out there). And if they like each other and enjoy the others company, they get married.

In the old days however, the "arranged+like marriage" did not exist. It was simply fixed between both sets of parents, dates set, trousseau bought, preparations made, and the bride and groom actually saw each other for the first time on their wedding night. How crazy is that. But my grandparents had a long happy loving marriage. As did their friends.

And that's that.

Now excuse me won't you, I need to go and fix my flaws.

And then there were none.

My last single guy-friend just got engaged today. That makes 3 engagements and 2 weddings in the last three months. Three months.

It's weird how all my guy friends are either in serious relationships, or getting engaged or married (at such speed you'd think women were suddenly on the list of soon-to-be-extinct species), while us girls are still livin' the single life. A single non-dating life. And not by choice either.

Sadly enough, since all the guys in my city seem to be engaged by 23 (I'm totally serious, I know a guy who actually got married at 18), the only choice we do have are a) psychotic morons b) young, young, young boys c) psychotic morons. Our city is filled with men who sms "I would like to mak fraandship with you" or who yell, from their cars, "hi! can I get your number" (and who'd then probably sms, "I would like to mak fraandship with you"). Or else, if by some incredible stroke of luck, you do meet someone who's witty and interesting; he's either gay, married or 18.

Most people here do get married young... I'm not sure why, maybe there's just not much else to do. While most of my school girl friends got married at 18 (one divorced at 18 and a half), I announced to my family that I wanted to live my life on my own terms, that I'd marry who ever I pleased when-ever I pleased, and then proceeded to turn down marriage proposal after marriage proposal after marriage proposal.

Now at 25, knowing more about who I am and what I want, it's harder and harder to find a guy I really really like being with. My friends call me fussy mc fusser, but spending an hour with a guy who can go on and on and on about himself is really not my idea of a good time. Even if he's really hot. By the end of that "conversation," I knew the name of pets his grandfather had had as a child. He could not have told me where I worked if his life depended on it.

Anyway, I'm really not yet desperate enough to spend my life with a guy who can't spell friendship.