When A Muse is Changing Shades


Image Courtesy: Kanika Manchanda

It’s not often that I consider falling in love. I’ve often come across moments in my life where I have contemplated that fact, but I have never realized the actual meaning or the feeling behind it. It’s hard to categorize this 4 letter word as either an adjective or a figure of speech. It’s neither. It can never be classified. It can only be felt. It cannot be imagined. It can only be felt.

While I’m not a ladies man and never will be (never intend to be), these two years, away from friends with whom I’ve spent years together, has been more than challenging. I’ve encountered at least 6 extremely charming, gorgeous and unique women who’ve approached and asked me out and I’ve shamelessly denied them the chance to even go out on a date with me.  It’s quite customary for me to acknowledge the fact that within a week or even a few days as I meet with the same woman, I sincerely loose interest in them.

No, there was nothing wrong with them or in them. It was me and it always has been me. The only reason why I am typing these words down is the fact that I’m finding it hard to cope with certain facts and realities. Much like any attention freak, I adore attention and when I do get it, I go out of the way to receive it. I often say things, which I mean temporarily and then moments later I’m indecisive. I’m like a man on menstrual cycles, having mood swings constantly. But then again. Containing these emotions is a hard thing for me. And what better way to vent it out except for writing it down on my only asset. My own website.

It’s not that I’ve never liked someone. I have. I have thought of dating my closest friends, I’ve dated some of my closest friends and that is the trajectory that keeps me involved.

On the contrary, Infatuation is quite a daily ordeal. You can imagine yourself kissing someone you have been meeting for a while on the forehead, but then again, the idea is not reciprocated. I’ve dated beautiful, gorgeous and adorable woman who are brilliant human beings, next to whom I am virtually nothing. I’ve found woman who ‘loved’ me more than they’ve loved any other man, but chose to stay single because they found it hard to commit, hard to change their lifestyle, hard to love a man more than how much they loved me as a friend. And I’ve been lucky in those aspects.

So here I am virtually rejecting the good fortune bestowed upon me, by people who would go the longest mile to see me by their side. And I don’t feel a thing. But what I do feel is the shortcomings in me. I’d rather ask ‘her’ to find another man who would sincerely care for ‘her’ rather than settle with a ‘douche-bag’ who openly tells ‘her’ that he would eventually like to be single.  But here is the catch. I see some women, whom I myself can see spending some time with. Her head on my shoulders, her lipstick on my t-shirt, her scent on my t-shirt, and her eyes closed falling asleep on a ‘teddy bear’, she adorably calls.

The sheer hypocrisy, makes my head spin around and around. Tobacco and cannabis substitute the indecisiveness for sometime, but never for a longer span.  I eventually contemplate and introspect what to do further. The conclusion is either writing or listening to music, but they both aggravate my feelings. Here I am venting it all out. I’m in a state of catharsis.

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