Unrequited Love Can be Beautiful
The purity of unrequited love can make the recipient feel loved for a long time.
I’m 34 years old and have been through the rollercoaster of love since I first started dating. Today this is half my life. My first relationship began in college when I was 17 years old, and I thought that was it — He was the one! It was puppy love. I see that now. But back then, it felt like I would spend my life with this person.
3 years later, the story was drastically different, and I had my first experience with unrequited love. My 3-year long relationship had turned quite toxic, and my boyfriend was living in another city by then. I was done with him and our relationship and had told him that in specific words. No ambiguity. No nonsense. It was over for me. However, he refused to listen, and it was a very trying time with all the phone calls that followed.
At the time, I was 20 years old and befriended a work colleague, V who was 24 years old. Back then, it felt like he was so much older — almost Yoda-like. Ageism apart, he was great fun to talk to and actually listened when I spoke about things. We spent a lot of time together, went out for meals, and even spent our weekends doing fun things. Since he was senior to me at work there was an imbalance of power that wouldn’t allow a romantic relationship to blossom in my mind.
One evening while I was wrapping up work, he called to ask if I’d like to have dinner? Since we’d gone out for meals many times, I didn’t think anything of it and agreed. He was off that day so he’d meet me directly at the restaurant at 8 pm.
We worked and lived in a tier two town where dining options were few, and most of us had five restaurants we frequented. The place he suggested, Savage Garden, was the only restaurant that served good Italian food and had a half-decent wine selection. Incidentally, it was Lonely Planet approved. The restaurant was in the old city and would take me 20–25 minutes to get there, so I went home, freshened up and headed out to a seemingly harmless dinner.
Tucked away in one of old Udaipur’s by lanes, Savage Garden was (and I believe still is.) housed inside an airy, bright blue building. With it’s partial open-air seating, private dining spaces and pink bougainvillaea making its way upwards, it was a pretty charming place. When I arrived, the host asked if I had a reservation. As I gave him my name, he had this twinkle in his eye, gave me a 1000 watt smile and said, “Hello ma’am welcome to Savage Garden! Please, follow me.”
The host knew my face and had never done this before. I was surprised at best but I wasn’t paying enough attention to read between the unseen lines. He guided me to a private dining enclosure, on the first floor, with a large oval table and one chair set against the long side. Yes, one chair! The dining area was decorated with flowers and lit up with candles flickering in the light spring breeze. Before I could ask, the host said, “Sir is in the kitchen and has asked that you forget about ordering and just enjoy the food.”
This was highly unusual.
How do you ask someone out for dinner and make them eat alone? I sat there, waiting for an explanation but, the food arrived instead. It is weird that I still remember the meal so vividly. But then, that is what this story is about.
The first course was Grilled Lemon Sole with Orange Sauce paired with a chilled glass of dry chardonnay. The year is 2008, there was no obsession with taking photographs before we ate food, so I just went for it. I remember the presentation, the perfect temperature of the wine, the taste of the fish and that orange sauce. Absolutely delightful.
While the plate was cleared, I asked for V but, the server said, “Sir is preparing your main course right now. He will join you for that.” I shrugged and waited.
The second course was a Handmade Fettuccine in Wild Mushroom Sauce heaped with wild mushrooms and paired with a chilled glass of Riesling. I only remember the grapes because the server made it a point to explain the pairing to me each time. The pasta was peppery, mushroomy, fragrant and topped with generous shavings of parmesan cheese. I sat and marvelled at this gorgeous plate and sipped on my wine while waiting for my dinner companion. There was still no sign of him. The server returned and asked me to start eating as — “Sir is coming, and your food should be eaten hot.”
All of this felt quite bizarre, and I failed to understand what was going on but the food was so great that I just ate. Halfway through my pasta, V arrived. A chair was placed next to me, and he sat down. A server brought an in-house pasta for him, and I asked why he was not eating what he made for me. He said he just wanted something simple cooked by someone else.
I asked him what was going on, and he said, “I’ll tell you. But in some time. Let’s finish eating first.” My brain went into overdrive, and I was thinking of various idiotic things by then. I’m sure you all know what I mean. We ate our respective pasta, and I asked him what he had done all day. He told me how he had come to ask if the restaurant would let him cook in their kitchen and once they agreed he went to source ingredients. He regaled me with how he went to the local markets in an attempt to find wild mushrooms, and that it had been almost impossible to find the right ones. He even went through every available wine at the restaurant to pick the right ones to pair with these dishes.
I was a little taken aback.
We were just friends. Was he suddenly expecting more? Was something about to happen? I think he saw all these questions flash across my face, and before I could say anything, he got up to get dessert. Suddenly, I was alone again. Seated at this huge table, surrounded by fragrant flowers basking in the glow of flickering candles, contemplating how to tell this man that I don’t love him.
This time he returned soon enough with a piping hot Soft-Center Chocolate Pudding atop which a perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream sat melting. It was one of my favourite desserts back then. He sat with me, and we shared the dessert in complete silence.
My stomach was full, my heart was heavy, and he looked at me like the world would end, but he needed this. I was about to cry. He pushed the plate to one side and pulled out a box from his bag. In that moment, I could not take it anymore and these words tumbled out, “ Why are you doing this to me?” He looked at me quizzically. I went on to tell him that this had all been too much and was something I’d expect a guy to do if he were to propose. And that if he was going to, he shouldn’t because I don’t love him.
He looked at me through honey-brown eyes that glistened with all the wisdom and courage his 24-year-old self could muster and softly said, “I know. I know you don’t love me, and I don’t expect you to. But you can’t do anything about how I feel and I don’t want to change that.” I just stared at him, perplexed. What the hell was this boy on? I asked him what he meant.
The words he spoke next would stay with me like they were engraved in my mind. He said, “Over the last few weeks, with everything going on in your personal life, you looked very sad, and I just wanted to do something for you. Something that would remind you how special YOU are. So I cooked some of your favourite things — some fish and pasta with wild mushrooms because you once said you liked mushrooms more than chicken.”
My boyfriend of 3 years had no clue I liked wild mushrooms that much but V did. He continued to say, “I wanted to do something that you will think of whenever you feel sad because you are worthy of love. Never forget that, and never let anyone make you feel like you don’t deserve magic.”
He didn’t say he loved me, but he didn’t have to.
He opened the box he still held and gave me a poem that he wrote about me and a few knick-knacks he hoped I would keep. I was overwhelmed. My throat was choked, my eyes were blurry, and my heart felt like it would burst. I just hugged him and cried. I couldn’t believe someone would go out of their way for me like this without expecting anything from me. That he did all of this to cheer me up and leave me with a memory. A memory so special that it would take a whole lot to top it.
14 years on, no one has been able to make me feel more special than that 24-year-old boy who didn’t want to change how he felt so, he put that energy into cheering me up. I have the poem he wrote and remember the day as if it was yesterday.
“I wanted to do something that you will think of whenever you feel sad because you are worthy of love. Never forget that, and never let anyone make you feel like you don’t deserve magic.”
I am still friends with V, and he is a real sweetheart. He goes out of his way to help me even today and that makes him truly special. The purity of his affection has stayed with me all these years, and I don’t think that will ever change. I hope everyone feels as loved as I did that day. At least once.
