You Show Me Yours, I'll Show You Mine

[timelines are inconsistent as I started writing this last Tuesday, but had to put it on the backburner]

Damn, I am pissed! Wanna go spitting venom!

So, Bozo pings last night (the other names that come to mind for him, are too obscene). I was working, I was sleep deprived, I was not in the best of moods, and lets admit it. Bozo aint really one of my best friends. Not even by a long shot. But inspite of this bad chemistry, I do the needful. I feign enthusiasm. I ask the usual questions. The expected, non funny jokes. The whole works, you know. Expecting the conversation to peter out, for lack of things to say.

And then, right out of the blue, Bozo drops one of his trademark bombs. One, he knew, would make me flinch! He asked me about, The Book!

Men express their love for women, in various ways. Some do it with flowers, some with gold and diamonds, some with songs, and some with letters. I did mine, with a short story. Well, that's me after all. A small note was too small, and the whole I need to be heard and understood thing, was running too high. So, I ended up writing a 40 some page long story, to tell her, how I felt about her.

Ofcourse, today when you look back at a lot of things you did in your past, they seem incredibly dumb and silly and stupid. But back then, they were probably the right things to do. And even today, if I could turn back time, and do the whole thing again, I think I won't change it a bit. I'll do it all, just the way I did it, the first time round. And because, whatever I wrote in those pages, was something I really felt, I am not even embarrassed of it. But, it was very, very Personal!

Yes, I might laugh about it. Yes, I might write a blog post with all the ugly details. And yes, I might even dedicate an entire chapter of my autobiography to it. But that doesn't mean, that I will let someone like Bozo ask me about it, dig in for some juicy details! I could so visualize that smirk on his face, the irritating slight nodding of his head, that retarded, lopsided grin, suggesting that its only fair that I give him the details, because he wasn't stingy with his, when his flirtations with Cupid fell flat on its face!

Wait a second, right there! What is going on? Have we gone back to the days of our childhood? The whole, I shared my toffee with you, so now you must share yours with me? Go get a life, Dude. Didn't you know, RD always cheated in those games, as a kid. And this was not acceptable. Not with Bozo. No Sir. Not At All. Some things are just not acceptable.

For all those years, that I had to bear with Bozo, I did it, in the stoic manner, a Bong in Calcutta bears with the heat, the sweat, the pollution, the crowds, the roaches, the flies. What cannot be cured, must be endured. Though, my contempt, my disgust for him, would often surface, I think, given the circumstances, I did a decent job.

But that was out of compulsion. When you live in a tightly knit community of college kids living just outside, its not wise to be too overtly discretionary about your choice of friends. But the same doesn't apply now. I don't have to take that shit anymore. If I don't quite like hanging out with someone, I don't I need to force myself to do it. If I find someone obnoxious, I don't think I should be polite and nice, just to be social.

Anyways, this incident raised a number of more serious questions. The answers to which, can only be found, on further introspection. Will have to wait for another post.