And then there was the madness..

He wanted to cook and clean for me. And he would have played the piano too if he knew nuts about playing it!

He entered my life when I was not even looking and changed almost everything that a person can possibly change. He said things that I would have brutally classified as sloppy and laughed my ass off with my girlfriends but as time passed, he became my girlfriend. Taking keen interest in what I could wear to a party to look hot and yet being a little jealous when he thought I looked ‘too hot’, he was the kind of guy for whom adorable was an understatement. He could be the baby girl who would demand undivided attention when she wore her pink dress for the first time and he could be the man who would hold me back from plummeting into some devious depression.

He would say the things that sounded like lines right out of “Casablanca” and I would feebly struggle  to say something nice, most of the time breaking into laughter, if not in front of him then deep down inside. He would sing for me without caring how he sounded (not that he sounded bad) and would ask me to join him. I, on the other hand would attempt to sing like I was reciting a poem and feeling idiotic all the while. And boy, I am not kidding but he knew ALL the songs!!!

Where did he come from? And why would he even so much as like the idea of having me in his life? I was the girl who liked Nietzsche. The good people for me were the ones who let me cross the street without running me over. That was quite sweet.

And love?

Love for me would be to just let me be and try not to hack my email account! That’s the stuff I would term as love. The flowers and the teddy were not really my thing. My idea of romance now wandered in a confused realm between the Petrarchan unattainability and Tzara’s irrationality. It was more comforting to be lost in your own country than a foreign land.

What could we even have in common- he, the old world romantic and me the quintessential cynic? But he was here, with his heart wide open, asking me to look into it. And I did, He was here and that’s what mattered. And come to think of it what could I loose anyway?

I hold it true, whate'er befall;

I feel it when I sorrow most;

'Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all.

But then, there were these glaring discrepancies. I was the number churning banker (hahaha..that’s funny considering how I always lived the first quarter of my life in perpetual fear of the numbers!) and he was the creative guy. He glided with aesthetics while I manipulated the figures. Over the period of time, I had started wanting even my life to be like those ledgers which I could control for my advantage, manipulate it as I liked, and batter it when needed.  And here he was, offering a world I was reluctant to step in, a world so pure that the innocence of it could choke you. I was not that untainted after all.

Then I had a thought- why not give in? Why not take a chance that I have never taken before? It can be pretty hard to lay your soul bare but it’s a lot better than having a soul wrapped under so many layers that you forget its there. So I decided to let it go.

Besides, for how long can you complain about a pimple afterall without the other person snapping at you after a day and half? Or how many guys would willingly offer to hold and carry your purple handabag if you have too many carry bags already? A guy has to be man enough to let his girl “sort her issues” with the guy who preceded him, so what if he got jealous some times?

So I decided to allow myself fall in the trap. Sing in my horrible voice, baby talk with him and others (who have started thinking there’s something wrong with me, but who cares?), and pose for a picture every single day so that I can fish for some more compliments. He has made me into this person whom I have started liking. And the feminist alarm shouldn’t go on because he respects me and my choices.

So I thought I will let go.

And let the madness begin…