This is perhaps the first me-me I'm answering on this blog. The funny part is, I'm doing it while listening to an utterly quaint Hindi song on the radio - Salman Khan crooning in lovelorn tones to Madhuri Dixit in Hum Aapke Hain Kaun.... Just the perfectly corny touch to a corny me-me. actually, me-meS, since I got tagged by two people consecutively, and me being the eternal procrastinator that I am, it's taken me ages to get down to answering them.
Starting off with Emily's tag;
I am thinking about... my Boy right now. Wishing he'd call. It's been sooo terribly long. And as I write this, I realise how utterly moronic I must project myself as. Terrible. I hate LDRs.
I said... I won't cheat on him. I still haven't.
I want to... stay in Goa for a month. Learn how to ride a goddamn bike and explore the goddamn place. And then I want another two weeks in Kerala, where I've never been.
I wish... wishes would solve all my problems.
I miss... being able to kiss someone good morning.
I hear... too many voices in my head. Time to call the shrink.
I wonder... whether I'll ever stop cribbing about my life. Something tells me I won't. For better or for worse.
I regret... not being smart enough to be a doctor. Not being more cloistered in my sex life. Never having the courage to tell my old flatmate that I was majorly attracted to him. Wait a minute. Did those two make sense, in succession? *sigh*
I am... usually confused, though most people think I have it all together. Sometimes I think that too.
I dance... like the devil. To tempt another sexy devil! ;-) I enjoy that. It's in my soul to dance.
I sing... like an angel with a sore throat. Never, never ask me to sing. ;-) I trouble poor Boy on the phone when I sing hume tumse pyaar kitna for him. *grin*
I cry... for silly movies, books, and when I've been betrayed in real life.
I am not always... this maudlin. Sometimes, I can actually be the Man in Charge.
I write... not half as often as I should.
I confuse... others sometimes, myself most times.
I need... a glass of Chardonnay right now. Thankfully, I have a bottle in my fridge. ;-)
I should try... being more understanding, I tell myself. And then, I rebel and ask why should I? Is everyone as schizophrenic as I am? Or is it just me, the ass stuck in his closet, meandering about, hoping he gets it right, knocking on wood painstakingly on the way...?
I finish... in a walk, usually. Running never helps.
And then there was Viji, or the Insane Bitch, as I once labelled her (much to her glee), who tagged me about six of my 'weird' habits. Ummm... now I'm really not sure where to start on that one, but here goes...
1. The Monica Complex. I need a clean room. Regular blog readers will recall the time I swept my floor after having sex with a cute guy I fondly named Beret Boy, because as hot as the guy was, he shed hair worse than an alley cat all over my floor. And I can't stand that!
2. The Narcissus Complex. Yes, I have a six foor two mirror in my room, and I stand tall (?!) at five foor seven. It's not just for when my six foot boyfriend comes into town to hug me and look at us both in the mirror - I have a gargantuan ego that demands that size matter! ;-)
3. The Samantha Complex. Sex is casual for me. Terribly casual. Some people don't get that. My closest friends have a problem accepting that about me. For me, sex is as inconsequential as a handshake. A sneeze. A yawn. A sandwich.
4. The Shoe-Ad Complex. I walk. A lot. I prefer to do that. One, I'm cheap to get into a cab when I'm just going around to the corner. Two, I actually like to walk. Used to love walking alone back in Delhi and Calcutta. Not in Chennai, though - Chennai is no place for a cute gay guy to walk alone. *grin*
5. The All-Tunes Complex. Music lovers don't get me. I like most of the songs out there. But I can remember the words only for a miniscule. I don't get carried away by the singer either. I don't memorise the teeniest details about my favourite singer's life. To tell the truth, I don't have a favourite singer - I thought I did, once upon a time, but then I grew up.
6. The Observer Complex. Most people don't believe me when I say I'm an introvert. My closest friends think I'm a garrulous chatteratti. (Thank God, my Boy doesn't think so too! *grin*) But put me in a crowd full of people I don't know, and I'll probably stick out like a sore thumb, with a plastic grin on my face, happy to just listen and see, the eternal observer, making of what people what they show me.
And if all you people out there think that no. 6 up there doesn't gell with what I evidently do and say at GB parties, that's because I tend to know a good many people at these events - courtesy no. 3 up there.
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