Just another story

Dating. It’s the worst amiright?

“Putting yourself out there” meeting people, trying to make conversation. Seriously, the absolute worst.

I never dated while in high-school, not because I wasn’t allowed to, but because it just never happened. I don’t think any of the guys I liked ever liked me. Who knows? It never bothered me though, I always had student body or class council to distract me and occupy my time.

In college I never dated because I lived in India. My parents moved to India right after I finished up with high school. I didn’t want to move there, so I stayed in California and finished up a year of undergrad at SJSU, but being the mama’s girl that I am, I ended up going to India for the summer and just never came back, I did two years of college there.

As you can imagine, it was quite a bit of culture shock. I was dealing with so much, that being in a relationship, let alone thinking about one just wasn’t even on my radar.

Then came that post-college stage. I started working right after graduating, I think I was 21. God, so so young. I wasn’t in any rush though to find my soulmate because I was more interested in just being an independent working woman. Making my own money, being able to buy whatever I wanted without having to ask — that’s what I was excited about.

I spent my time at work or with my friends, we’d go out on the weekends, shop, eat, party like rockstars. I mean really — like rockstars. I missed out on the whole ‘college’ experience because I lived at home for the one year that I was at SJSU, and even when I lived in India — I never lived in a dorm. I think I was just making up for lost time.

Sometimes I think about things and honestly, I think I just got extremely extremely lucky because I would go out and get cabs in the middle of the night — be half asleep on my way home and somehow make it safe and sound. Thank You — whoever you are, watching over, Thank You. And honestly it was the time of my life. Being financially independent, doing my own thing — it was the beginning of what I had wanted my whole childhood — adulthood.

Once I had a taste of that though, I realized there was so much more. Since my parents lived in India, I naturally lived with them, so at one point I realized that while being independent and having my own money was great — I still wasn’t on my own on my own. I know, how stupid, here you are living at home, no rent, life is good, why do you want to be on your own? Being on your own is the worst.

And it is, but you know, you don’t realize that until you don’t have it. So, oblivious to that, I decided I needed to take that next step, and really be on my own on my own.

After 2.5 years of living and working in India I decided it was time to pack up and move back home, to my home. While I love India, and I am proud to be of Indian heritage, there’s I still something that makes me much more comfortable in America — I’m not sure what it is, it’s not that I lean towards one culture more than the other — I think I’ve been lucky enough to take enough from each and sort of mold it into what and how I define myself.

Moving was I think the best and worst thing to happen to me. The best because it really really got me out of my comfort zone. The comfort zone of being safe, taking no risk, being in my bubble. I mean technically I moved from my parents home to my aunt and uncle’s home so it’s not like I landed up on the streets — but still. It was the worst because I had to leave behind my best friend, my soulmate, my Mom. She is my life,

But, I found a way to justify my moving here, as a way for me to provide a better future for her. That’s what parents do for their kids right? Well I know that it’s the opposite because I’m the kid and she’s the parent in this situation. But that’s how I feel. She’s done so much for me — I know all of us on some level can agree that our parents really have just gone above and beyond, put their wants and desires on hold, just to see a smile on our faces. So, in an effort to be able to repay her even a little bit, I decided that this was the bitter pill that I was going to swallow, and it would only be a matter of time.

I’m not sure how long the plane ride was because I’m pretty sure I cried the entire way. But I somehow made it to SFO in one piece, with my two suitcases in tow.

The only thing that I had to do now was get a job. I was lucky enough to have my uncle help me with that — and through a combination of his amazing network and luck I managed to find something with an August 15 start date (I landed in June.)

So job was done, bought a second hand car from someone in the neighborhood, life was good. Now all that was left to do was to get my finances in order, and make it big. Jk not make it big let’s calm down, I just needed to be stable enough to move out and start my life.

I lived at home with my family for 6 months before finally moving out (I know you guys love me) Moving out was bittersweet, I still didn’t have too many friends in the area and I was kinda scared to actually do the things I wanted to do on my own. But that’s just part of life, so I tried not to think too much about it.

I think the first year just flew by — with adjusting to work, adjusting back to American culture, I don’t even know where the time went.

But then year two came in, and it was like ok you’ve done that — now what? Consider doing your MBA because once you have those three letters next to your name you’re so much more legit. So despite my deep hatred for math I decided to go ahead and take the GMAT. I didn’t like my score, so I took some classes hoping that would make it better but really 10 Saturdays and $1500 later my score didn’t improve much.

I don’t blame the people that were trying to teach me. The thing is if I’m personally not invested in something, I don’t care enough about it and the results will show exactly that. I know this about myself and I accept it, it’s a defining quality.

So what next? It’s so funny — we all work towards being at one specific level — or achieving one specific thing, and then once it’s done we’re like ok next accomplishment — which brings its own struggles and rewards.

Now I am 23, and my Facebook feed is a mix of people getting engaged, married or pregnant. And these two things sum up life.

It’s weird. I’m still having trouble accept that I am as old as people doing these things because I’m just trying to make it out alive through the day, for real.