Needle and Thread Situation

I think my story will be incomplete if I don’t tell you what I am about to tell you but as you read, remember that beggars can be choosers if they are good at their jobs.

Moving on.

I was 25 and ran completely on food, rum (yes I gave up whisky) and broken hearts.

­I had recently broken up with my boyfriend and I shamelessly agree I felt more bored than hurt after he was gone which is quite cold even by my standards. We went out for one and a half years, he was an engineer tall dark and handsome. He had a sense of humor and good hygiene. For 90% Indian women of my age that calls for tagging him as a husband before another bitch rest her eyes on him, fucking shaadi that bastard ASAP. To be precise, he was a catch and plus point he had low self-esteem and mommy issues, hence worked extra hard to please me. I don’t complain.

It was all good but it had no passion, it got constant. We never even fought. I would try to start an argument to make him angry, sad, anything just to break away from the routine but that goes down the potty because he would give in after two minutes.

“You are probably right babe, I’ll get to it as soon as I can.” He will say.

Sometimes I used to get completely unreasonable on purpose just to piss him off, to get something out of him, something human. I even used to raise my voice and use harsh words to encourage raw, unfiltered projection of emotions on his side but nothing, the man was a vegetable and I was a hard core non-vegetarian. Speaking of non-vegetarian, the sex was good. But sex seemed like such a stupid reason to stay with someone, orgasms only last for 22 seconds and insecurities will come rushing back on the 23rd.

The most exciting part of the relationship was the break up. I kept it short and painful.

“I want to break up. We don’t click.” I said after drinking a considerable amount of rum.

It obviously sounded like an excuse for something more complex and tangible, who the fuck takes 18 months to figure out if it clicks or not but it felt like a better option than just saying, “you suck homeboy, you is boring as fuck.”

It came as a shock to him. He thought of me as someone with whom he could have a future with he told me later. I was a 25 year alcoholic Indian woman with passive aggressive tendencies and a history of depression and self-abuse, working among other condescending worthless bitches to pay for my bare minimum necessities which were mostly weed and alcohol all the while keeping my past in utter secrecy. That’s great thinking. My middle name should be “mangalam bhagvan vishnu” I am such wife material.

Our break up was the first argument we ever had, a full-fledged argument with swearing and honesty and tears (all his obviously). He was like a crescendo of rage. He tried reasoning with me but I would not bulge, then he got irritated and asked me to be reasonable, finally he lost it and gave it to me fair and square. Which includes calling me a bitch and hoping that I would burn in hell’s fire. I usually don’t take this kind of an insult but it was well deserved.

What came next was comparatively more bizarre.

My ex-boyfriend called me up three hours after the break up, that is after he had called me a bitch and asked me to go burn in hell. He said he wanted to speak to me face to face, now I insisted on meeting him in a public because just in case if he decides to go all dramatic and starts throwing shit around at least there would be other people there ready to call 911.

But for some god forbidden reasons this guy insisted strongly that he would rather drive up to my apartment so I had to agree.

While he was on his way I break-up-proofed my new two bedroom apartment (A few of my papers got published at the time, money issues were getting resolved) and by that I mean I got rid of the expensive stuff and the break able stuff and by that I also mean that I got rid of the pointy sharp stuff, the ‘can be used as a weapon stuff’. Now it may seem I was being little paranoid, but I out of all people knew that broken heart can turn people into nasty blood thirsty bitches and I don’t want to get bitten.

The bell rang and I opened the door slowly, I waited because I expected him to storm in and call me more names but he just stood there waiting for me to ask him to come inside like a normal sane person, which was very confusing.

He came in and sat down and started staring at my floor. He did not look angry, he did not look sad either, he just look tiered.

I sat down in front of him and very politely asked if he would like to have anything to drink.

He looked up at me with big watery brown eyes and said “It’s only been a few hours and you are already treating me like a stranger.”

“I can’t really treat you like a boyfriend either now can I? It’s harder to dwell in the grey areas trust me.” I said quietly taking a seat in front of him.

“You always like pretending, you know everything don’t you?”

“Guilty as charged”

“No quick wits come back?”

“No, not today.”

“Why because you are taking pity on me and my broken little stupid heart?”

Obviously I was.

“Obviously I am not. I am not a bad person, I don’t want to hurt you and I am doing this for the both of us. I am thankful for every moment I spent in your company you have no idea how grateful I am that you came into my life.”

He looked up at me with more love than a Nicholas Spark’s novel.

“But my feelings for you have changed, I did not want them to but they did. What can I do? Feelings are stupid. It’s unhealthy for both of us to stay together in these circumstances, there will always be something missing, something incomplete. I wished we had some other way out but we have to let this go. But that does not mean that we have to hate each other or hurt each other.”

He broke down and I gently wrapped my arm around him and rested my chin on his head as he sobbed silently. Aim and shoot, that’s what I just did.

I felt his tear and snort run down my shirt for a while and finally I pulled away.

I lifted his chin up and gave him a choreographed smile that I had perfected over the last few years.

“I’ll get some water for you ok?”

He nodded.

I walked away lighter than ever. I was really proud on myself about how well I had handled it. I went inside the kitchen doing a little dance when I felt him creep up from behind and wrap his arms around my waist while he buried his face in my hair while still sobbing a little, you know those post sobs sob.

Startled? Yes I was but I was more irritated, how was I supposed to get him water when he was clinked on to me like a koala bear.

I turned around to face him and gave his arm a little compassionate squeeze before breaking away from his arm lock and walked away.

I went to the kitchen counter and he walked up to me until his nose touched the back of my neck, now did I mention that I had a terrible temper?

Well if I didn’t before already I’ll tell you now. It’s really easy to piss me off and I am not safe when I am angry, I am lucky I don’t have a criminal record. No exaggeration, I had so much unresolved anger that if harvested it could power a small city. He should have known that out of all people, it was his laptop I had smashed when John Snow died in the Game of Thrones.

I filled the cup of water while he sniffed the back of my head, he might as well have wiped his snort in my hair how would I have known?

Do you notice I was more prepared for violence than I was for compassion?

I turned around and gave him the water and walked to the sitting area to get some breathing space. I didn’t really like cuddling even when I was committed which was 3 hours back but what was he trying to do following me around the house like a puppy. I had made it perfectly clear that his presence in my life was no longer needed what made him feel like it was normal for him to put his face in my hair and shit?

I sat down on my chair because I knew we had a little to discuss before we end it completely, basically returning gifts and money I owed him.

Now I have a chair for him placed in front of mine, perfectly aligned all cushion-y and shit so he would sit there and we could talk like civil man and woman but no, this ‘genius’ sits down on my carpet and rests his head on my lap and not just that he takes my hand and places it on top of his head. Now not only should I act like a pillow but I was also supposed to stroke his fucking hair after a break up?

“What are you trying to do?”


“Why are you coming on to me?”

“I am not coming on to you” he said loudly getting up.

“Then what is the touchy feely stuff huh? Last time you hugged me was like 3 weeks back because I gave you Friends Season 1–5 on blue ray DVD I know you are no cuddle bunny so what is up with this jazz?”

“You are leaving me. I just wanted to feel you in my arms for the last time, I will never have that again, I will miss you.”

He was lying. I could tell he wanted to emotionally blackmail me into staying or taking him back. He wanted to show me that maybe I am human somewhere and I have sympathy tucked away in some unreachable corner in my heart. His actions were leading on to a vendetta against my emotionlessness and it got me really pissed.

He was lying.

“Thank Lord that was it. For a moment there I thought you were collecting DNA samples from my body so you can later clone me in your secret laboratory in the basement! I agree to meet you, I am kind to you that does not mean you get to act like a fucking victim to squeeze that last hope for break up sex out of me you perverted little filth. Stop treating this break up as this is my fault! I should get a Nobel Prize for putting up with your boring ass and for 18 months! Don’t you ever dare drag your pathetic self into my business or my life ever again and get the fuck out of my place before I make you cry again.”

I took a breath and made the final blow.

“I don’t love you okay? Now fuck off.”

I hurt him. It was not like I hadn’t already, I did break up with him but this time I really hurt him.

“So what was that about you being grateful that I was in your life?” he asked in a tiny voice.

“ I was sucking up to you to get you out of here.”

But it didn’t feel good, I never hated him he was a good person but this had to be done, I just cared more about myself than I did about him and also I had severe anger issues. I was not a bad person, yet; selfish maybe, but not bad.

But he was lying.

He was no better than me, none of them are.

He was lying.

He looked down at the floor for a few moments. Ladies and gentleman in that moment I realized that I had killed this man.

He slowly walked towards the door and out of it. He turned around to face me and it was the second last time that I ever saw him. He had tears filled in his eyes but his face showed no emotion, I can never forget that look. What he said next crippled me.

“You know, you are sick. No one is going to stay with you and you will lose everything. You will lose everything and everyone. You will grow old and miserable and your ovaries will dry up. Who would want you then? You condescending cunt.”

Was he not lying?

His words broke the membrane of my ego. People don’t usually talk to me like that; I am scary in my own way. I took the bullets with grace.

No matter how wrong I was I needed to have the last words the unquenchable thirst to satisfy my forever big fat self-erected ego.

I took a second to bow my head to rectify my damage. I raised my head slowly and gave him my iconic smirk.

“Condescending cunt you wanted to mother your child just a few hours back. As long as the world has underachieving insecure parasites like you, condescending cunts like me will have nothing to worry about.”

I shut the door and heard his footsteps getting fainter. I went back to drink myself to sleep. It was a dreamless night.

But just for the record this is something I only realized much later in my life, he was NOT lying.