A Walk to Remember

I did something I had been meaning to do for quite a while now—I went hiking. Yes—the self-proclaimed lazy pig, allergic to the gym, who considers walking to the parking lot a form of exercise—went on a five mile hike through the Bear Mountains. To call the experience amazing or refreshing, or even exhausting, would be stating the obvious. More than anything, it was humbling, because it required me to utilize a basic motor skill that we’ve all acquired (and taken for granted) from an early age: walking.

My niece recently started walking and when I saw her standing on her two tiny feet, inching towards me, I thought, there she goes taking her first few steps. Soon enough, she’s going to walk into other people’s lives, their homes, their hearts, their world—the way she entered mine a little over a year ago. My Mom, on the other hand, has been walking around for a little over 50 years now, but has been experiencing some difficulties lately due to arthritis in her knees. Her recent trip to the doctor’s temporarily put her in some disability, as the acute pain made it unbearable for her to walk even the shortest distance.

The timing of the two disparate instances couldn’t have been more ironic. There’s my niece, barely getting acquainted with her newfound ability… her newfound “independence”… the new sensation of ground beneath her feet. And then there’s my Mom—trying to adjust to being put on bed-rest, and being dependent on others for support. At one end, is my niece who graduated from crawling on fours, and at the other, my Mom who began to use a walker. Indeed, the provincial irony of life.

“C’mon… left foot, right foot,” we teach toddlers as they learn to master the art of walking at that fragile age. As we grow up, we’re taught to take things in stride—as they come. Eventually, as we continue treading on the path carved out by destiny, we end up at interesting junctures. Like now, here I am—in between two generations, united by one common thread: my brother—the one who walked around the holy fire seven times and vowed to be there for his wife, every step of the way…

Call it a hike or a ceremony, but above all else, walking is the journey we take to get from point A to B – from a date to a wedding, from a diploma to a masters, from infancy to retirement. And whether you take that journey in sneakers, flip flops, stilettos, or barefoot, make it a walk that will leave footprints for generations to come.

Searching in Space

I have a confession to make – well, to those of you that don’t already know this. I subscribed as a member to shaadi.com about four months ago. Why? Well I figured, why not? Apparently meeting someone the old fashioned way is so passé – might as well see what these “807,112 and counting matches” have been raving about. So I part-grudgingly, part-jokingly, and part-optimistically clicked on “register.”

Within the first 48 hours of joining, my profile had been viewed over 200 times and I had received over 50 “interests” from suitors around the world. That was until I discovered this little function they call “filter.” I can select exactly who I’m interested in based on everything from their height to their location to their profession to even blood type (yes, because God forbid you marry someone with an incompatible blood type). It almost seemed too good to be true – I mean, here’s a site that’s willing to cater to my each and every whim. So, I went on a checkbox ticking spree and selected all the things I was looking for in my dulhe raja. Surely, this ought to bring me a step closer to finding The (elusive) One a lot quicker, I thought. Well, it’s been four months, 1 week, and 3 days (but who’s counting?) since I joined this site full of “10 million possibilities” – yet not a single one that has stopped me in my tracks.

Perhaps the people over at shaadi.com sensed my – and those other 10 million still single-and-looking members’ – skepticism over the true successful nature of this site. Perhaps that’s why they released Matrimony version 2.0 this week. I kid you not. I received a notification email informing me of the site’s enhanced interface applications and improved algorithms. Furthermore, this version is “aimed to empower me and make my search for a life partner, fast, intuitive and easy.” Right – why didn’t I think of that? All we need is a more robust search engine to becoming one step closer to finding our life partner. Eureka!

The site has increasingly become more of an annoyance than anything else. I get messages from guys asking me to demystify myself – mainly because I refused to write an autobiography under the “about me” section of the profile, whereas others have taken the liberty to boast about their many oh-so-great-and-unique qualities. If you really want me to respond, here’s a hint: don’t make “hey” the subject of your message, because that just screams READ ME, doesn’t it? Also, don’t message me if your user ID resembles anything similar to “dream_come_true” or “the_one_for_you.” Of course, sense of humor is key, but where and how you apply it, is even more crucial. Take notes boys.

Despite my cynicism towards this site (and all other related dating/matrimony services), I still remain a one in a 10 million member – partly for entertainment reasons (try reading some of the profiles out there if you want a good laugh), and partly because… well, I’m still searching for that one in a million…

"Good"bye

Goodbye -- it's the one word I absolutely hate. Such a small two syllable word that's packed with volumes of pain, solitude, and angst. Where's the good in "goodbye" anyway? It’s the one word I try to avoid, and the one word I uttered twice this weekend.

The first time around was with the aforementioned friend moving to Tokyo. It still feels surreal, as if it isn’t really happening at all. As if I didn’t just see all his suitcases packed up. As if I didn’t really go out to his farewell party. As if I didn’t just hug him for the last time… No, I don’t buy it. A part of me will continue to think that he’s still in NYC – just a hop, skip, and a jump away. And maybe it’ll never quite hit me until I actually turn around and realize I’m standing there by myself, in a room full of memories.

Saying “goodbye” robs people of creating new memories. Whether it’s death, career opportunities, or distance – at some point or another, we all become victims of this thief. And if you have my luck – more often than others. I’m unlucky in love. I get it Mr. Almighty – thanks for making it loud and clear. I fall for all the right guys who are totally wrong for me – which just forces me to bid adieu to them sooner or later.

I fell for someone really unexpected recently. All I knew is that I liked him – without ever really being able to pinpoint exactly what it is that I liked about him. Those are the best kinds of attractions though, I think, because it goes beyond just a single quality – it’s the kind of attraction that makes you smile unknowingly at the mere thought of them. How quickly that smile turned upside down though, with a single word: goodbye.

He said it – just like that, closing off all possibilities of any illusions I had. Let me make one thing clear: saying goodbye is not my forte – being in denial, however, is. He said it and I heard it, but I don’t want to deal with the inevitable: the pain, the anger, the solitude. If only ignorance of these pangs of emotions could bring bliss, how many years of therapy that would save people. But alas, here I am – fuckin dealing with it.

We both saw the red flags ahead but gave it a go regardless, in our quest to answer the “what ifs.” I took a chance and welcomed him into my world of hookah, bollywood, and so much more. The problem occurred when he got the answer to his “what if,” but I was still trying to figure it out. The bigger problem, however, was that he didn’t enjoy being a part of my world as much as I enjoyed having him there.

Maybe that’s the solution: stop inviting people into my life. If they never enter, they can’t leave. And if they never leave, then I never have to say another ill-fated goodbye ever again.

From Sole to Soul Mate

It’s been said that love and death both come unannounced, but unfortunately, only one of them is inevitable. While death is certain, love is not – and if there ever was a day that exemplified that statement, then today was it. A friend had a death in the family, while I said goodbye to yet another guy in my so-called love life. While they were both imminent, there was one clear distinction between the two losses: soul.

When someone dies, we’re taught to believe that their soul has left their body. So with the passing of a loved one, does that mean, you’ve also lost your soul mate? Soul mate. Two little words, one big concept – one that I never quite thought about. It’s hard enough finding a guy that sticks around for more than a month, let alone finding one that’s supposedly meant to last all eternity. With each relationship that ends, I become less and less of a believer of this elusive rosy theory. Believing in it means that until I find this mystery guy, out there somewhere in this big ol’ universe, I will forever remain just a lost soul. And I’m too much of an optimist to believe in such daunting things.

Things with the recent bachelor #34592 didn’t work out (yes, despite the “magical” first date as gushed about below). Cause of death: lack of spark. Shocking, I know – considering that’s been the #1 reason with most of the guys I’ve recently dated. But it made me wonder today – is it me? Is it them? Which one out of us is to be blamed for “us” not working out? I don’t know. I can just leave it at "we didn't click," or I can sit here and do a post-mortem analysis by dissecting each spoken word, and replaying each date under a microscope – but why bother? Everyone wishes for a quick easy death – and it was just that.

We’re all destined to die some day, but not all of us are meant to fall in love. Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. And if I keep that flicker of hope inside of me alive, then I’m certain that I’ll find that someone out there who may not be my soul mate – but he can be my permanent roommate – that someone I share my bed, my secrets, my dreams, and my life with…

Mixing Business with Pleasure

Office romance – it’s one of those taboo situations that we all try to avoid. Try – yes, avoid – not so much. It’s a temptation that looms around us like a shadow in the darkness. But no matter how hard you try to fight it, your feelings are bound to submerge from the shallow murky waters. It’s to be expected I suppose when you devote 40+ hours of your week either working with or for these people… somewhere along the line, a line gets blurred, things get read between the line…and before you know it, a line gets crossed. Often times, as wrong as it may be, we press forward instead of pressing pause – maybe because there’s an element of excitement, fear, and surprise that comes with the possibility of meeting someone unassuming and undeniable – that someone who you’ve tried to avoid… that someone who was right before your very own eyes.

Fifty First Dates

I once heard some incredulous fact about how people tend to make judgments based on first impressions within the first 15 seconds of meeting someone. I think it takes me 60 seconds alone just to get people to pronounce my name correctly, let alone get them to evaluate me accurately. But despite my cynicism, I’m inclined to somewhat agree when it comes to matters of the heart. As soon as you meet someone new, you instinctively decide and categorize the respective party into one of the following:
1) no way – “you don’t have a shot”
2) maybe – “sure, I’ll give you a chance”
3) hellz ya – “where have you been?”

In my experience of exploring the male species in this wilderness, I have had many moments that began with one of the above reactions. And ironically enough, I’ve been wrong nine out of ten times – hence why I’ve stopped having any major expectations when a guys asks me out on a date. It’s rare that I get nervous or even excited about a first date, because after a while, you fall into a rhythm and you realize which ones are a waste of time – rather than the time of your life. But last night was different; the night began with a sense of trepidation and ended in simple perfection. Looking back at the past couple of years, it feels as if I’ve been on fifty first dates, but for the first time last night, I thought… I’d rather have a date like this fifty times, every time – because if the first felt this great, I don’t want to imagine it being the last.

(And in case you're wondering, the answer is #3).

When Rubber Meets the Road

Location, location, location. Any real estate agent – or common sense – will tell you that location dictates the price of the property. But what people or logic don’t often tell you is how location also dictates the fate of relationships; more than changing the address on an envelope, it changes you and the dynamics of friendships.

Last week, three different cities, all located hundreds and thousands of miles away, distanced three of my friends from a place I had grown accustomed to calling their home: the tri-state area. There’s the Philly friend who will be moving to Bean town Boston by the end of this year. Then there’s the local Jersey friend who’s moving to ritzy LA in a month. And finally the NYC friend who is moving to Tokyo faster than you can say Mitsubishi. I’ve known all of them for a couple of years now, and shared unforgettable moments with each of them. And although I never considered them to be the closest of friends, something triggered inside of me when they told me about the new place they’ll be calling home. It made me realize… we’re adults… how did this happen? And how do we make it stop?

As happy and proud as I am for the strides they’ve made in their respective careers, a part of me wants to hold them back. I just want to keep everyone at bay and continue pretending that the status quo hasn’t really shifted at all. Yet I’m forced to face reality as I share the last supper, throw the farewell party, and wave goodbye to each one of them… one by one.

I asked one of them if he will stay in Tokyo permanently, and even though he said he doesn’t know, it unnerves me because we take comfort in the possibilities that come with the unknown. He may hate it and move back, or he could fall madly in love and settle there forever. Granted, the pendulum can swing either way, but right now… the only direction destiny is taking him is two continents and an ocean away from me. I guess it’s nice to know that no matter where life takes you, the ones you love, are just a call, email, and a plane ride away.

Ironically enough, I was scheduled to fly out the day after they all shocked me with their big news. Let me tell you – nothing is quite saddening as sitting at the airport wondering how this is the very place that both unites and divides people. This is where people come to venture off into the world – be it near or far. This is where people come to go to a place they call home. This is the place where people shed tears and embrace closely one last time. This is the place where people jump into the arms of their lovers. All the ironies in the world, reside under this one roof.

Later that day, as I was sitting idly on the plane, looking out the window into the bright horizon, I wondered about what my friends will think as their flight approaches their destinations. Home sweet home? Shit, where am I? You look out below and see sparkling water, enormous buildings, and wonder how soon enough… you’ll be among them – perhaps seamlessly… perhaps not. Whatever your fears may be, as soon as that rubber meets the runway, it all comes to a standstill and you hear the attendant over the speakers, “Welcome, we have arrived…”

When I finally returned from my trip, and was waiting (and waiting and waiting) at the baggage claim, it occurred to me how the carousel is quite analogous to our lives. (Yep, here comes another wacky analogy). We stand there, waiting for something to appear – something we can claim as our own, hold, carry, and be gone with it. Yet we see others get it first, and wonder when will it be my turn? When will I get what I want? But unlike the conveyor belt, life isn’t guaranteed to deliver us anything – only the things we’re destined for, and the things we work hard towards. And I believe that if work is done right – it not only opens up new windows of opportunities, it can open up the sky for you.

Big Bang

It was a typical weekday morning: I was running late to work as usual, and trying to beat the clock during rush hour traffic in time for my meeting. Then suddenly, everything came to a standstill and for a moment, none of it mattered. I saw a utility truck violently collide into a sedan just as I was driving by in the opposite lane. The cold wet air outside started filling with trepidation as I saw glass shattering and heard sirens blaring. I almost don’t know what was worse – the deafening clash of the hood into the rear of the car – or actually witnessing the crash with my very own eyes.

We’ve all been bystanders in roadside crashes – and some of us unfortunate ones – have even been in one – but never have I actually seen it happen “live.” Later that morning when I finally proceeded to making my way to work, I thought about what I had seen just a couple of hours earlier. I wondered if the victim had a chance to say “I love you” before she left the house that morning. I wondered if she even had anyone to say that to. I wondered what regrets the offender had – “I wish I hadn’t picked up that call” – or “I wish I wasn’t so reckless.” I also wondered what others, like me who were stuck in the jam, were thinking; “Damn, I should’ve left my house 5 minutes sooner.” What about the EMTs and the cops? “I’ve seen worse” – or “This is going to be a messy one.”

This isn’t my feeble attempt at recreating the Oscar winning movie “Crash,” but it does make me wonder – one horrific event, everything leading up to it, thereafter, and the multiple people it touches. All of our lives are so interwoven in today’s modern world that it’s hard not to affect someone by your actions – no matter how innocent or deadly they may be.

Love is Like a Bottle of Gin

By: The Magnetic Fields
Lyrics -

It makes you blind, it does you in
It makes you think you're pretty tough
It makes you prone to crime and sin
It makes you say thing off the cuff
It's very small and made of glass
and grossly over-advertised
It turns a genius into an ass
and makes a fool think he is wise
It could make you regret your birth
or turn cartwheels in your best suit
It costs a lot more than it's worth
and yet there is no substitute
They keep it on a higher shelf
the older and more pure it grows
It has no color in itself
but it can make you see rainbows
You can find it at the Bowery
or you can find it at Elaine's
It makes your words more flowery
It makes the sun shine, makes it rain
You just get what they put in
and they never put in enough
Love is like a bottle of gin
but a bottle of gin is not like love

Lost & Found

It’s common knowledge that I’m somewhat directionally challenged while driving (and often times, walking as well). Now it’s official that I’m pretty lost when it comes to navigating through my so-called love life too. I’m not sure when or how a seemingly simple straight road turned into a maze with no beginning and no end, but the longer I keep treading, the more lost – and frustrated – I seem to get.

Apparently the adage, “take the road less traveled” was not meant for me. Every time I try to venture out onto uncharted territory, I end up driving an extra 30 minutes… in the opposite direction. It finally occurred to me – as I was getting lost for the umpteenth time this past weekend – that my heart tends to follow the same course. Even with a clear destination in mind, for some reason or another, I veer off course and end up wasting time and going the wrong way.

Finding things in life isn't necessarily the hard part -- you'll find a great guy for every jerk you meet; you'll find a guy that wants to spoil you... a guy that wants ravish you... a guy that wants you want him.... a guy you want all to yourself. You can find it all -- but until you find it all in a single person, you'll be left -- well -- single.

Whether it’s intentional or accidental, one thing that I’ve learned from my years of getting lost and found is that getting off track isn’t such a bad thing, after all. Sure it wears my tires out, adds unnecessary mileage, increases my blood pressure… but at the end of the day, it exposes me to new roads – and it shows that sometimes it doesn’t matter how you reach your destination, as long as you find your way.