Baby Don’t Hurt Meeee…No Moree
I find myself wondering about a certain hypothetical situation sometimes. It involves my ex. An ex that I’ve never written about here even though I was going out with her longer than I’ve gone out with anyone else. I loved her more than any other woman that I’ve been with as well. We went out for about two years after which she did something that killed me. Something I vowed never to forgive her for.
Fast forward to present day (about two years later) and we talk on a semi-regular basis now. I have perfectly normal conversations with her including some that extend over multiple hours. I tell myself that I still haven’t forgiven her for what she did to me. I tell myself that I will never actually trust her again. However, I wonder how much weight my feelings really have considering I we are friends now and I never let her know how I still think about what happened.
Thoughts like these made me wonder what it would be like if I did “forgive” her. Would I be able to think of her differently? Would I be able to be in a relationship with her again? Do I even want to be in a relationship with her again? Sadly, I don’t have answers to any of these questions.
However, I DID want feedback from you guys about this. Would you go out with an ex again after they have really wronged you in some way? I’m sure there are people who have been through this. What were your experiences?
Do tell.
“Relationship with my cousin, Farah” (Guest Post by Bubbles)
I’ve known her for as long as I could remember. She’s 5 years older than me. An orphan, raised by her stepmother, who is also her grandmothers sister. They stay at our house about half the year, and I love it when they are there. She’s my playmate, my older sister. We play games, we talk. I discuss my day to day shit with her, she tells me about her life. We share cigarrettes. She’s beautiful in that village chic kind of way. Doesn’t speak much english, but she’s fairly smart, and perpetually depressed. Life hasn’t been kind to her. I’m good to her in a way no ones ever been, my childish innocence is mistaken for wisdom. Perhaps not a mistake. I’m 14, sleeping on a matress on the floor. Anu Massi is snoring away. Farah gets out of bed and quitely makes her way over to mine. I move over to give her room and she crawls under the covers with me. We are face to face, close enough that I feel her breath, and if we inhale at the same time, I can feel her breasts pressed against my chest. Whispered:
“There’s someone I’m in love with. You’ll never guess who it is?”
My heart sinks a little bit. I think she means me, but I hope it isn’t.
“Who is it?”
She makes me guess for a while, and with evey name I say, she tells me he lives closer than that. As the list winds down, I try to control the urge to get out of there. I love her, but not like that, and I’m afraid I’m too young to handle this with any sort of tact. Finally:
“It’s you. It’s always been you. You’ve been so good to me, you’ve shown me so much love. I’m only happy when I’m with you. I know you think of me like a sister, and I don’t think this is going to go any further. But I had to tell you.”
I don’t say anything for a while. Then:
“I love you like a sister…”
“I know.”
She caresses the side of my face and move’s closer, the tips of our noses almost touching, and she puts one of her legs through mine. We are awake for quite a while, she’s caressing my face, and I rest my hand on the side of her stomach. My thoughts are all over the place, I can’t comprehend how it got to where it is, but finally I fall asleep. I wake up later, she’s back in her own bed. Shits complicated. Best to pretend it never happened. It’s never mentioned explicitly again, but it’s always there below the surface after that.
Why I Haven’t Met Your Mother / Father Yet*
*Title credit goes to Sharbet
In case you’re not entirely sure of what this post is about, please refer to the comments in my last post.
If you’re lazy, I’ll just give you the gist of it: We, the bloggers, want to write about sex.
I have no idea as to what exactly we could write about or how we should go about doing it. I want to hear your ideas about this and then flesh out a plan.
Consider this an open thread.
“My boyfriend doesn’t mind when I cheat on him”
Seriously, how do you turn down someone after that line?
It was more than obvious to me and everyone around us that BP and I had some chemistry. We’d randomly walk off into corners while talking without realizing where the rest of the group trailed off. She would link her arm into mine as we would head off for lunch alone. People would tease us and we would laugh it off. This was just day one of the three day long back and forth tease-fest.
Day two was busy. She was doing girly weddingy stuff while I was spending some quality time with the boys. I would run into her every few hours and I’d be greeted by a gleeful “Whereee have you beeeeeeeeeeeen?”. We spent some time in girls’ suite with everyone that night. She would dose off periodically with her head resting on my shoulder. RP would look at me and smile. I’d just shake my head and mouth a big “NO”.
Day three was interesting. We had breakfast lunch and dinner together. After dinner she invited me to come over to her room because she finally found some hash. I told her I might come but I hung around with my friends instead. Around 3 AM, everyone was going off to their rooms to pass out. I went to my room, watched tv for five minutes and walked back out. I made sure the hallway was empty and then made my way over two doors down and knocked on BP’s door. I heard her fumbling out of bed and walking over to the door.
“Is there any hash left over?”, I asked when she opened the door.
She smiled, shook her head and then pulled me in by my arm, “Come chill, have a cigarette”
So we chilled. And we watched parts of The Astronaut Farmer. And we smoked. During this time, I’d made my way from the chair to the foot of her bed to lying next to her.
Then we fooled around like we were kids. We gave each other shoulder massages and tickled each other. Hands brushed against body parts that aren’t usually touched in public.
And then it was around 5 AM. I thought about what I wanted. She was not on the list.
I hugged her goodbye. An awkwardly long hug. Then I walked back to my room and passed out.
I woke up on day four with one thought in my mind : “what the fuck was that?”
Wedding Observations
I’ve been in Karachi the last few days attending a friends wedding. These were probably the funnest four days of my life. I have to stay on in Karachi for a few more days for some work so Lahore (and regular blogging) is still a little while off.
In the meantime, here are some highlights and observations from the wedding:
- Girls from Karachi are way more fun to hang out with. I really hate the fact that generally girls in Lahore think all guys are hitting on them. I might be generalizing, but that’s what I’ve experienced.
- You can drink as much as you want if you keep dancing the whole night.
- If you dance the whole night for three nights in a row your shoulders and thighs will hate you.
- Connecting doors in hotel rooms and bathrooms without locks can lead to many pictures that are not facebook friendly.
- Implying that your friend’s dad was really drunk the night before in front of him is not a good idea.
- Pretending to set up friends together at weddings can actually turn into something serious. Engagement after hanging out for 2 days? Possibly.
- Drunk uncles will repeat the same thing many times in one night.
- BBM group chats make for excellent gossip sharing forums.
- Running in the hotel lobby with kolapuri’s on will result in some serious slippage.
- Weddings are ten times as fun when none of your family members are around.
Torn
Look at her. She’s hot. She’s funny. Who wouldn’t go nuts about her?
She reminds me of some mythical fire bird. I forget which one though…
The Cigar
I bring the Aston Martin to a slow halt outside the brightly lit entrance. A smartly dressed valet runs up and opens the door slowly. I step out and nod at him. He touches his hat. I run my hands over my clothes to smoothen out any creases even though there are none. I didn’t buy a $10,000 suit for nothing.
I pass through the grand doors into an expansive ballroom. People turn to look at me as my name is announced. I continue my walk straight to the bar without meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Scotch, rocks, soda”, I tell the bartender. I was never one to waste words. I turn around to scan the crowd and take out a cigar from the inside pocket of my jacket. It’s a Cohiba. Siglo IV. The 1492 series. A waiter sees the cigar in my hand and cuts off the tip for me. He offers a light but I decline. I need some scotch in me first.
I pick up my drink from the bar and notice a woman in a long black gown as I take my first sip. She turns and catches my gaze. I blink but don’t break eye contact. She looks away but is unable to hide her smile. I smile at being able to have that effect on women. But I smile only on the inside.
She disappears for a moment, but the corner of my eye catches her slow walk towards me. I turn towards her and lock eyes with her as she continues her walk. Her low cut dress accentuates her cleavage and tempts me to lower my gaze by a few inches. I maintain eye contact for I am not weak.
I hold the cigar between my teeth and take out my lighter. She steps close to me and takes the lighter from my hand. I try to take it back but she pulls it away like I’m a child. I put my arm around her waist and pull her close to me. I can hear her breathing. Bending down a bit, I give her neck a kiss and pry my lighter from her hands at the same time.
“Very clever”, she says mockingly. I agree. Cigar still in mouth, I light by Dunhill lighter and bring the flame close to the cigar. I light and rotate at the same time so that the cigar burns evenly.
Finally, I take my first puff. Within seconds, I start coughing like a man who has lost a lung. The woman in black gives me the most horrified look as a piece of flem projectiles from my mouth on to her face. People around us stop their conversations and turn to see a man bent over wheezing like an 80 year old smoker.
I finally manage to stop coughing and start walking towards the exit while wiping the water running from my eyes. The crowd splits into half creating a passage for me to walk through. Everyone stares. No one speaks.
The valet brings my car around. I nod at him but he doesn’t touch his hat this time around. I give him a twenty dollar bill for his troubles. He declines.
“You’ve already had a rough night”, he says as he walks away laughing at me.
Fucking cigars.
Pishipotty Had To Take A Bathroom Break
I’m sorry I’ve been posting way less than I would like to.
The increase in workload, social obligations and the resurgence of my PS3 is taking away from my writing time.
I have a lot of travel coming up so I still might be a little slower on the writing front.
However, I do plan to churn out at least two pieces by next weekend. That, my friends, is a sheikh promise.
The Basement
I’ve always wanted my own basement. A boy’s basement. Nay, a MAN’s basement.
Let me show you what I mean.
The basement is long and wide. One end is reserved for the projection screen that can be rolled up if needed. Right behind the projection screen, there is a built in wall unit. The right side of the wall unit is reserved for DVDs. The left for PS3 games and CDs. In the centre, there is space for a DVD player, a PS3 and PC. There is internal wiring hooking all these up to my overhead projector.
On the other end of the basement is a small kitchenette. Nothing fancy really – Just a fridge, a microwave and maybe an electric kettle. The kitchenette and the rest of the basement is separated by a counter that extends to about half the width of the kitchenette. The counter with the two high stools look classy.
Then there’s the furniture. There is a long plush leather couch aided by two lazy boy-esque chairs on the sides. In front of the couch there is a low wooden square coffee table. The coffee table is always kept neat. The remotes are lined up in one corner. Another corner is home to a pack of cigarettes, my zippo and a small ashtray.
The other half of the basement holds a pool table and the entrance to the sunken patio outside. The sunken patio is the perfect place to relax in the winters. There are a few lawn chairs and a small round table where we can all sit and talk aimlessly while our burgers are being cooked on the grill in the corner.
I still have some empty space left but I’m not sure what to do about it as yet. I feel a big bookcase against the wall is necessary. Maybe I need a bit more seating as well. Perhaps I will add something next to the lazy boys.
My basement is where I sit alone for hours without anyone disturbing me. It is the place where my boys and I end up after a big night. It is the place where my boys and I start the night. This is where my girlfriend and I watch a movie together. This is where I go after I fight with her.
This is the place that knows all my secrets. It’s a place hidden away in my mind.
