Rearanging Arangements

This past weekend came and went without much to report. I was kept at bay due to 48 hours of continual rain that would sully any weekend. As such I missed out on my sordid affair with my one and only mistress the city of Chicago.

However, I was day dreaming in the shower, where I come up with all my inspirational material and realized that I forgot to return a phone call. This phone call became the idea that sparked a mental debate that I thought I should share with the rest of my followers.

The phone call in question was from my "uncle," I place the term uncle in quotation marks because as an Indian even a man with no familial relation can be called uncle. This man was my dad's best friend from medical school. His phone call disturbed me in the middle of Sunday football as I watched in horror as my team found more ingenious ways to suck. I peered at my caller id seeing a call from North Carolina, and I had no idea who it was, I answered in hopes that it was someone somewhere with a possible job opportunity for me, though I subsequently learned otherwise.

He was calling me in regards to a girl, a girl he found from his town in North Carolina that he wanted me to begin "talking" with. In my stupor, which came from far too many coronas, I did what any man does when trapped in a corner, I lied. I blew into the receiver pretending to lose the signal and that I could not hear, until he replied "how about I call you later?" Presto, even more simple of a lie than when a woman asks "how many women have you been with" and we quickly reply "the only one that matters is you" as we pretend to forget the "massuers" in chinatown.

This got me thinking, is the right woman waiting for me to call her or to buy her a drink? The question can be more simply put as a man do you like to hunt for your food or be served your food? It goes back to our most carnal impulses that are beginning to be constricted by the growing pressure to marry and settle down.

My parents always query: Why don't you just email? There it is, the game I have so tirelessly perfected is being tossed simply to the curb. Now instead of the bars, I must spend my time airbrushing my best picture, signing up to eharmany.com and lie on my profile. Well at least that part is a lot easier than coming up with lies off the cuff at a bar. I am not certain I will be able to Pouvich over email, though every challenge can be overcome.

As first generation children in our makeshift home here in the United States, a majority of our parents nuptials were arranged by their parental units as they were merely spectators along for the ride. Despite not knowing a thing about each other these marriages unlike marriages in the states, have a substantially higher success rates. There in lies the question though: why? I would submit to you that our parents never fell in love, but rather love each other out of circumstance. Therefore they never had the high expectations we here place, which we so eloquently learned from those Meg Ryan and Tom Hank movies. That is why the only genre in Indian movies is Romance, because they continue to desire what they never experienced. Here we have every genre imaginable, because every man would rather have two 9mm hand guns, covered in blood, squatting in some jungle rather than a romantic comedy describing how we were ensnared by our significant others (I think every woman in the world will kill me after this one).

Clearly, the grass is always greener, I just don't know which grass is truly green. I guess the reality is the grass is green despite the piles of dog shit you have to avoid once in a while.

I guess I will always lean towards the desire to hunt for love rather than have it brought to me. The problem that always becomes evident is how does one explain this to parents who do not have the experience to understand. I guess if I can't explain it to them I can always fedex them the Lword dvds, though I think that might confuse them even more.