This is a continuation to this post
Act Three: The BullShit
One fine day, seven or eight months into their “relationshit” (in some cases replace months by weeks, days, or hours, according to your talent, looks and bank balance), the girl tells the guy about one wonderful day she had with her friends, and then and there, out of the blue, seeds of jealousy are sown (no, u don’t need them to be watered). The girl accidentally, got proposed to, by her best friend, whom she always thought of as her brother, (at least that’s what she told her bf), when they were drunk and casually chatting, I might add. Now at this point you may raise your right hand and touch your left ear with the thumb, if this has ever happened with you too. She says, she just had to get it off her chest, when the guy feels like in reality she might want it the other way round. The cold wars begin just like the Delhi winter chill, slowly.
The guy calls the girl less (read: gives her less missed calls), and when he does, she always finds excuses to not amuse him with her pleasant voice. The guy stops shaving, starts listening to sad songs by even sadder singers and over eats and becomes fat and irritable, the girl on the other hand, is unmoved by anything, and goes on her regular shopping, flirting, and hanging-out business because she “doesn’t want to show anything is wrong”. Though, she does start searching for a new replacement to “utilize the extra Airtel to Airtel minutes she has on her phone” before the month ends. And before the month ends the girl has a new guy ready to turn into her bf, while the guy has a beard as long as the Great Wall of China.
Act Four: The breakup
There is nothing such as an “amicable breakup” in the world. Never are sad songs beig played in the background, never smiles exchanged, never last hugs given or taken, last kisses or last (dirty minds, I know where you’re going) .. phonecalls, i was about to say. All there is, is exchange of love letters (back to where they originated from) and exchange of money that one owed the other. There are fights, people create misunderstandings, and cutlery is thrown, literally, and hateful emails exchanged and maybe many a times, with the girl’s new boyfriend too. Both sides vow never to talk to each other (*conditions apply).
*Except for on birthdays, Diwali, Holi, new year’s, Christmas, other public holidays, workplace promotions, and most importantly getting new girlfriends and boyfriends. I shall address this last one in a new post though.
The girl becomes sad, and receives sympathy from her friends (read: male friends). The guy on the other hand is the proud recipient of abuses, alcohol and Classic Milds. The girl’s friends take her out to cheer her up. The guy’s friends laugh at him and make fun of him for his stupidity. The girl gets over the guy in 3.75 weeks, to be precise. The guy, never. The guy keeps scouting for chances to get back WITH her, the girl, scouts for chances to get back AT him. And so begins a series of phases, in which they talk and don’t talk, and talk and don’t talk, and don’t talk and talk.
In some interesting cases, as my research shows, the girl dates the guy’s best friend right after she dated him, and if the guy even dare come near the girl’s best friend (male or female), he is termed a slut. So much so for male bonding, I tell you.
In other rare but existent cases, eight weeks later, the girl finds a new “the one”, and the guy finds a “the one and only one” (if the guy has the strength to pull off a new stunt).
If you want to fall in love, stop. Think about how many better things you could do with your time, like sleeping with your mouth wide open, dreaming and drooling about Jessica Alba, learning to speak Mandarin (if your eyes can differentiate between the symbols in that language), counting stars in the sky, getting jobs done (workplace I mean, work jobs, *frowns*), getting your facial hair waxed, heck, even building a time machine, and still if you feel, you have nothing better to do, then go ahead, make your life miserable, and others’ too.
But don’t forget I told you.
But as they say Old habits die hard.
You won’t listen.
Bruised knees are better than broken hearts.
Ponder on that for one.