8. Kannan

"Ayyo, you don't know. I totally urugified. Not because of the heat. His craning neck and dancing eyebrows meltigrated me to a rippling puddle."

"Again?! Onakku eppovume ithe thana di pozhappu?"

"Arrey no di, when I get my head out of the clouds and put my feet on the ground, I am sane enough to realize we are miles apart. Literally and figuratively. Enakkum avanukkum sammanthame illa. He is nattaikurinji. I am naatu sarakku. He spends his life quoting Wodehouse and Woody Allen. And I spend my life trying to come up with wisecracks of my own. He is sangeetha methai, I am gyaanasooniyam. Engayaavathu othu poguma? Plus he is the really artsy fartsy type di. Writing novellas enna, taking photographs enna"

"So what di? If he is classical symphony, you are steel drums."

"But what if, one of these days, he plays me some raagam, special; signifying  love or romance or something? I wouldn't even know. It would be totally wasted on me. His knowledge, his genius.. I won't even be able to appreciate it"

"Appreciate it, you will.. you only won't recogonize it. That is his problem. Avanukku venumna let him teach you. Plus sangeetha gyaanam and all is phooey. "Isaiya anubavikkanum, aaraya koodaathu". You only say, no?"

"Seri, leave that. Still, there is the question of the years, the distance. Plus I'm already busy with work di. There's so much I have to do, I won't even have time for this now, and with passing time, it will fade away... I don't know di. I think I will sober up, get real, and leave this all behind, along with the clothes and the jewellery; with the others hoping that I will come back for them one day."

"Yes di. Don't bring along excess baggage, you end up paying a heavy price for it"

 "Kindalukku korachale illa! ... In the end, I am going to become one of those old ladies with the cats, you just wait and watch"

"What rubbish di! Enakkoru vodka maari onakkoru wine cooler maata maattaana?"

"Ei po di. I was looking for Allepy toddy, and you're giving me alpam wine cooler"

7.

"I’m a baker because brownies attract quality men." said a wise baker once. It is true, you know. I have attracted many a quality boy with my brownie baking skills. You pull out the pan form the oven and they instantly swarm at you like ants. You bring out a big pot of stew, bake up some warm hearty bread and melt some cheese on top, and you have the boy twirled around your fingers like you had your hair when you were initially making eyes at him.

But vodka white boy isn't so particular about food. I don't understand. I think he's wired weird. He likes my particular brand of hummus, though. And root beer floats. So atleast something's right.

But I am officially lost. Without food, I have nothing in my arsenal that will snag a boy. Boys are supposed to like medhu vadai and aloo paratha and warm pies. I had done my research. I even had specific instructions for what to feed your favorite boy on dinner date, and what to feed him when you wake up with said boy in your bed the next morning.

[Disclaimer] Amma, I have never woken up with a boy in my bed. Never. I swear on your rasam podi recipe, I haven't. Except for the numerous cousins with whom I shared the floor during all those summer vacations at paati's house; and they don't count. [End disclaimer]

I don't get to see  vodka for 4 weeks now, after which I am making him dinner. He had better swoon. Although, if he does the dishes, I will forgive him for not being insanely in love with everything chocolate. Instantly.

6.

You know the feeling when you're eating a grilled cheese, and a blob of cheese gets caught in your teeth, and you taste it and think "this is the perfect kind for Mac and Cheese" and you can't wait to finish the sandwich and move on to using that very same cheddar to make a pan of the most deliciously cheesy mac-n-cheese with nothing more than pasta, cheese, milk and mustard; and you are so caught in that thought that you can actually taste it in the back of your throat and that taste travels to your tongue and is so perceivable that you are no longer chewing on the piece of toastie that is actually in your mouth, but instead on a mouthful of chewy gooey cheesy macaroni?

I just had that feeling.

5. The Yogurt Test

Talking to your close friends about what you want in your partner is very important. Not so that one of them can become your partner (although that would be awesome, no?) but because it allows you to discover things about yourself, and change your expectations accordingly.

Until very recently, I used to think the deal breaker in a dude for me would be his inability to cook. Say what you may, but there is something about a man who can cook. Put an apron on those hips, boys, and they will instantly camouflage that beer gut and those love handles. Forget those free weights and learn to flip a pancake instead. I'm not saying it will get you everywhere, but it ups your hotness quotient very much. Mince a garlic pod while whistling an IR paatu, or saute an onion while strumming an air guitar to a rock song in between; and I will not care that you are a poor grad student with no money. That's not to say that any dude who can cook is immediately mate material, but if you can't it definitely gets you off the list.

Recently though, very recently, this was challenged. Not by any one dude in particular, but conversations with a friend gradually caused me to arrive there. And we weren't even talking about boys. We were talking about how the yogurt became runny once you dip a spoon into it. That immediately set me off into how the protein structure collapses once you cut into it, allowing the whey to ooze out. And me, being me, did not stop there. I continued on to the science behind how yogurt sets, how the various protein and fat concentrations and ratios affect how thick it is and how the temperature affects the process. I was in the process of elucidating why yogurt can never accurately represent the tang of true buttermilk, when said friend got up and walked away. Simply got up, and walked away.

Now, don't read too much into it, me and this person are still great friends, just that we never talk about yogurt (or anything that can set me off on a nerd ramble) much. It does not matter. We need not have those conversations. Our relationship does not demand it. But a dude I want as a boyfriend, a lover, a spouse needs to be able to do this. I mean, I understand that the vodka distillation process doesn't make for good pillow talk, but if you can't keep up with me on that, there will be no pillow talk to get to.

So keep this in mind, boys who are trying to woo me - yes all none of you - you will have to pass the yogurt test. Start studying.

4.

I am becoming total Rouwsu Raajalatchimi. It is oddly liberating. Like setting free my inner goddess. Or something.

Someone told me they did not think I was the vijay padam watching dappakoothu listening type. I totally am. The url of this blog is "vadaporsche" for god's sake! Full gethu.

It is amusing how easily people believe the facades you put up, without even realizing that you are all in a masquerade.

But what is the real you? What you are? Or what everyone sees you as? You know, "you cannot see the complete picture when you are part of it" and "you need a mirror to show you what you are" and all that. If you are able to show different facets of yourself to different people, does that not make you the elephant that the blind men tried to see? Speaking of, the story says the blind men went into a dark room to feel the elephant. One, "feeling" the elephant sounds a bit... perverse. Two, if they are blind, why the dark room? Or was it just men trying to "feel" and elephant in a dark room? Which is worse, no? Pornographic redundancy only that story is. Periya philosophical parable am.

So, in short, I called you a phoney and an elephant. See? Rouwsu Raajalatchimi. Total fun it is being that. Err, being me.