Wednesday, September 19, 2007

sometimes you know more is less

Over the past year, you might say I fell for two guys. You might say that, but you'd be more accurate if you characterized it as tripping or, even more appropriately, stumbling. Falling implies a kind of force that never really amassed in either of these cases. It was weird and that was kind of how I knew it wasn't really falling. If you stop in mid-air to ponder, "Hmmm.... life seems a bit light and airy, I may possibly be falling," chances are you are not really falling. You're either imagining it or confusing it for something else.

I wasn't really even disappointed, which was also strange. Two guys popped into my life and, for wildly opposing reasons, something about them appealed to me. But I didn't man up or they didn't man up, and nothing came of it, and it was not even vaguely tragic. And yet, with my twisted logic, the lack of tragedy felt a bit tragic. What if I am not capable of more than stubbing my toe on the sidewalk nowadays?

But yesterday I realized I've fallen for two guys in my class. One is the Indian Uncle to end all Indian Uncles. Okay, not really, because he hasn't delivered any misguided analyses regarding my marital status. But otherwise, bona fide Uncle-ji. We've sort of evolved over the past month, and now it's all I can do not to hug him. He has started to annoy people with his know-it-all Indian Uncle way of arguing, and I serve as the comic foil to dampen his shrill behavior. It's almost like I'm his interpreter. He reminds me so much of my mama's that I can't help but tease him playfully, mediating his middle-finger pointing arguments, serving as a kind of surrogate relative who gladly tolerates his let-me-tell-you-one-thing-only streaks.

Two is this meek, soft-spoken fellow who talked to me today after class. There was nothing particularly profound or meaningful about this conversation. Except that you can hear the sound of someone genuinely interested in getting to know you, you can hear sincerity without a trace of a$$hole in someone's voice. And that was what I heard in what he said, in the questions he asked, in the kindness in his eyes.

I walked home with a dumb grin on my face. It is all kind of absurd- I would probably join a convent before I would find either of these dudes in any way attractive in that sense. Yet, what I feel for them seems a lot more meaningful, useful, and worthwhile than the noise with those two clowns over the past year. This would probably be the cue for some bona fide Indian Auntie to shake her head and tell me my priorities are a mess. Luckily, though, there are no Aunties in school with me and Indian Uncle-ji's ego would be too inflated to give me such a lecture.

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