I had a foreboding about reading the Sunday newspapers. V-day is next Monday, you freaks! Why torture us singletons so well in advance? Why remind us that Cupid’s arrow is as off-mark when it comes to us, as the CBI is with the Aarushi murder case? Gruesome analogy, I know, but equivalent, nonetheless. And I swear I don’t have insider information. On the murder case, I mean. About my own love life, I have theories. Yes, you do form theories when you are 25 and have been asked out for the grand total of ZERO times. And have had your own tentative displays of affection cruelly stamped out for about 3 – 4 times. I feel like the scientist looking down on his invention and wondering why in hell no-one understood its miracle, life-altering properties and why the folks at the Board To Approve Scientific Inventions wouldn’t grant him a listen.
Maybe no-one understands that my unruly hair is actually a display of my glorious curls, or that my aloofness is prompted by an extreme shyness of strangers (and sometimes contempt – it’s a thin line, but you’ll know which side you are on!), and that my bossiness is a call to all the Petruchios out there. But no point in grumpily ruminating about how things could have been. I have a made a decision – it’s called a matrimonial profile. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, manage your horror – because if you had cared a fig, you would have done something about me by now!!
Said profile will also be posted sometime in the near future for the entertainment of my loyal readers.
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