Woolgatherer's Tales
Woolgatherer's Tales
Does one still have breakfast at Tiffany and affairs to remember?
Sitting in one of those posh cafés, I look around to see umpteen couples. They all seem madly in love. Eyes are fluttered, hair is flicked, slim legs are crossed; all seem perfect from a distance. Every now and then I see a hand moving animatedly to support the words being spoken, and then my eyes go to the huge flashing solitaire on the ring finger. They all look happy. They boogie the nights away, swinging to the latest tunes, they buy fresh zinnias, they buy loads of chocolates; yes, they still do that. But is there real romance out there?

I am messed up in my head when it comes to defining romance. My most romantic moment had none of these. It had fresh air, green dewy grass, sprinkling sound of water in the background, soapy bubbles, and him. Yes, that was the most romantic moment ever. I have bottled it up in my memory and pop its cork every now and then to breathe in a bit of it. I cherish it. However, I still find myself hoping to receive an odd flower or a trinket every now and then...to mark a day I deem special. Like my second anniversary. Dating in todays time, my dear people, is a tough task. It is not easy to have a dating life of two years. I think it is a moment to be celebrated. So does he. Nevertheless, he always wants to play the important things down. “Let's not build it up” he says. I understand, mostly. But sometimes, a girl wants to feel special. Is it wrong?

I wanted to us to feel special. We are special, to me. To him too, I know. Then, what is wrong in acknowledging it? This, dear people, is Mister High Fidelity. The man I am mad about. The man who means the world to me. The man who loves me but just does not know how to make me feel special. Do not get me wrong, he is a gem. He really is. But this girl still has her woes. You see, nothing is meant to be perfect. Nothing is perfect. Neither am I. Have no doubts about that. If he could not make me feel special that day, I did not leave any stone unturned in throwing tantrums either. Silly, we both are.

posted by mystic chick @ 6:52 AM  
  • At 9:59 PM, Blogger Rohini said…

    Here's one of those chain mails I got recently. It's mushy and a bit over the top but worth thinking about anyhow:

    This is to remind us of the boyfriends, girlfriends, hubbies, wives, or even friends and family members whom we sometimes take for granted.

    My husband was an engineer. Since I met him, he was always an unflappable rock in my life. I knew he always had his feet firmly planted on the ground,and it seemed that no matter what else went crazy, he would be the one constant.

    Three years of romance, and two years of marriage later, I got tired. He was the most unromantic man I know. He never bought me flowers, he never surprised me, and nothing changed in our marriage.

    After some time, I finally found the courage to tell him that I wanted to leave him. He just sat there, speechless. My heart froze ... what kind of man was I married to that didn't even know what to say to make me stay?

    After a while, he spoke, "What can I do to change your mind?"

    "I will stay if you can give me a good answer to this question," I replied coldly.

    "If I asked for a flower that grew on a cliff, and you knew that getting it for me means certain death, would you get it for me?"

    His face grew troubled.

    "Can I give you an answer tomorrow morning?" he asked.

    Hearing that kind of answer, my heart died. I knew that I could never be happy with a man who couldn't even give me a answer straight away.

    The next morning, when I woke up, he was missing. In the living room,
    under a warm glass of milk, was a note. My eyes grew misty as I read it.

    "Dear, I have my answer. I will never pick the flower for you if it meant certain death. But before you leave, I hope you can give me a chance to give you my reasons ....

    You will always sit in front of the computer and type about for the whole day, but every time you will end up in tears cause your formatting will always go all over the place... I need my fingers, to do the formatting for you, so your tears will become smiles.

    You like to travel, but would always get lost ... I need my eyes, so that I can bring you to the nicest places on earth.

    Every time you leave the house, you would always forget your keys ... I need my legs, so that I can run home to open the door for you.

    You never knew how to take care of yourself... I need my hands to help you get rid of the pesky white hair you hate so much when you grow old, to trim your nails, to feed you.

    So you see, that's why I can't pick the flower for you. Until I find someone who loves you more than I do, I will need my body to take care of you.

    If you accept my reasons, then open the door, where I will be waiting with your favorite muffin."

    With tears streaming from my eyes, I opened the door, and there he
    stood,with a extremely worried look on his face. He still had nothing to say, but just stood there waving the packet he had in his hand in front of me. And then I knew for a fact that I will never find another man who will
    ever love me as much as he does.

    Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean that they don't love you with all they have ...

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Twenty something. Indian. Genial. People Pleaser. Writer of a sort. Romanticist. Insecure. Impulsive. Emotional. Secretive in real life. Anonymous in cyberland.

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