Cutting The 14th Out Of February

        (Note : Dedicated to all the single folks out there. While you sit there complaining, remember that your life is the envy of couples everywhere. 😂)

        After careful deliberation on (or mostly just whining about) our love lives, my best friend, Vedika and I have made the decision that we don't need men to make us happy. We're single and we're going to prove to ourselves that that's supposed to be a good thing and a girls day out this Valentine's Day is how we're going to do it.

        It's 11 pm on Valentine's eve and just as I am about to break yet another new year's resolution by scrolling through my contacts to find my ex-boyfriend's number, she calls.

        "Emergency intervention needed. I'm coming over," she says.

        "See you in a second."

        I disconnect the call and hear my doorbell ring. Did I mention my best friend is also my next-door neighbour?

        Muffled voices from the living room and thirty seconds later, she bursts into my bedroom saying, "I don't believe this guy! Kunal just posted a story with a photo of him with that stupid bitch, Aparna and some really cheesy caption that I'm sure he's copied from someone's stupid Facebook love post. And I can't believe that I'm wasting my life wondering whether I was too harsh to him!"

        "Babe, we've already discussed that, like a thousand times. He's a cheating scum bag. There's no such thing as too harsh. Also, for the thousandth time, why the hell are you still following him?" I reply, with one half of my rational brain, while the other half is still horrified at the call I almost made just minutes ago.

        "I just.. you know.. wait, what's wrong?" I don't know how she does it but sometimes I think she can literally sniff out my guilt.

        She narrows her eyes.

        "You did something stupid, didn't you?"

        My silence is confession enough.

        "Give me your phone."

        And before I can react, she lunges forward and grabs it from my fingers.

        "Oh my God! You were about to call Sahil, weren't you?"

        I groan and cover my face with my hands.

        "Well, what the fuck do you expect? It's Valentine's-Fucking-Day", I say, frustration spilling out of my words.

        "God Maddy, we can't keep having the same fucking discussion over and over again. YOU. CAN'T. CALL. YOUR. EX. BOYFRIEND. Especially not on Valentine's eve. What the hell were you thinking?"

        "Bitch please, it's not as if you're being super mature or anything. You're stalking your cheating ex on Instagram and you're one to talk!", I say, all defensive.

        She opens her mouth to say something but then, thinking better, sighs dramatically and plops down on my bed.

        "Shit man! What happened to us? We used to be so much fun. When did we turn into such miserable cows?", she says.

        "Oh come on Vedi, we're still fun. It's just this stupid month with this stupid date. Fake couples with their fake love and their fake smiles, rubbing their fake happiness in our faces."

        "Ugh. Just thinking about tomorrow makes me want to throw up."

        "Hey, not on my bed."

        She rolls her eyes, gives me her fuck-you-Monica-Geller look and finishes it up with another dramatic sigh.

        "This is so unfair! We're going to die single. Vedika and Madhura - the crazy cat ladies that everyone avoids."

        "Hey, I'm not going to be a crazy cat lady. I'd rather have....", I start and then noticing her murderous expression, finish with, "....dogs, but that's so not the point right now."

        "Damn it, why couldn't have one of us been a guy! It would've been so much easier!", she groans.

        "Or we could've both been lesbians."

        Oh shit, it's red alert. When one or both of us starts wishing for change of gender or sexual orientation, it is an official emergency and if there was ever a time for emergency intervention, this is it. If one of us doesn't get our shit together right now, the night is going to spiral into a tragic little sob fest.

        This time, I decide to be the grown-up.

        "Hey, come on. We're overthinking it. It's just another day. It's not going to be that bad. In fact, think of everything that we're going to do tomorrow. It's going to be a fucking blast. We have more fun in one day as single girls than we've had in our entire relationships. Come on, you know we're going to have fun tomorrow. We'll even do Phoebe's boyfriend bonfire, if you want. You know, just to get out of the bad boyfriend cycle."

        She gives me a wicked grin.

        "We will?"

        "Uh-huh. Although, no dancing around it naked."

        "Damn! That was the best part!"

        We both laugh.

        I grab my laptop from across the bed. Noticing her questioning look I say, "Oh, just want to make sure we do the bonfire ritual right", and hit play on F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

It Can Be Arranged

        (Note : Here's a different genre I've tried writing for the first time. It's the open letter format. Hope you guys like it. Reviews (even critical ones) are appreciated.)

        To the man I'm going to marry,

        Here I sit writing this letter to you on Valentine's Day - unemployed and single AF. My only hope is that you are out there somewhere and that this letter finds its way to you, before you find your way to me. Because there are some things about me that I think you should know before we do the whole arranging our marriage thing. So here goes.

        Firstly, I'm a feminist. If you're still here after I've uttered the f-word, well congratulations! I was raised to believe that I could accomplish anything I wanted in life, anything I put my mind to. So yes, I'm an ambitious girl and what attracts me the most in a man is his passion for something in life. If you're a person who loves my ambition instead of being threatened by it, I think we'll be really happy together.

        I have to confess, I'm not a fan of arranged marriages. I'm a writer - being a hopeless romantic is sort of an occupational hazard for my kind. Although after twenty six years on this plane, I think I'm almost over the whole falling-in-love bullshit and I'm beginning to think that arranged marriage might be my only way of finally finding you. I've spent my life being single because I refused to settle for anything less than I thought I deserved. You see, I learned to love myself quite late in life and it taught me that setting high standards for myself isn't a bad thing.

        I love stories and I tend to fall in love with fictional characters and then mope over the fact that they're not real. The internet tells me that this is my defence mechanism to avoid pain, because you see, fictional people can't hurt you. Don't get me wrong, I'm a very practical person. I'm just a control freak who knows what it's like to get hurt and wants to avoid feeling that way again, at all costs.

        I'm a woman of many talents and interests and if there's one thing I can promise you, it's this - there will never be a dull moment with me. We'll go dancing on Saturdays and maybe even on Tuesdays because well, Mondays are too stressful. I'll cook for us not because it's expected of me but because I love cooking and I'm assuming you'll do the dishes later. I'll drag you with me on treks and impromptu road trips and nag you over those 3 kgs you gained from Diwali. I'll force you to read Harry Potter and be annoyed if you don't get my constant FRIENDS references. I'm not the kind of girl who'll be mad if you want to spend time with your friends instead of me, because come on, I've got a squad of my own and I've no idea how those idiots are going to get through life without me.

        I'm proud to say that I've mastered the art of switching between being a tomboy and being a lady. I can kick your ass at foosball and look like a bomb at the same time. You literally get the best of both worlds. I tend to swear when I'm stressed because I find it oddly cathartic. What's more, I can do it in seven different languages (four Indian, three European). They're the same number of languages in which I can say 'I love you'. I may cry when I'm angry because it's so much better for the economy than throwing and breaking stuff.

        I'm not looking for someone to complete me - I'm my own person, whole and complete. I'm looking for a partner in crime and in life, someone who's my equal. In the end, I'm only looking for the things that I'm ready to give.

        So we'll meet someday, maybe through our parents, maybe over kandepohe or maybe we'll just get introduced to each other at someone else's wedding and realise that life will be better with us in it together - you never know. Till then, I'm quite warming up to the idea of arranged marriage. It is, after all, just another way of meeting you.

        ¡Hasta pronto!

(Not yet) Yours,
Future Wife.