well, what do i do, there's no accounting for tastes!

a lot of people i know were surprised when Sk and i got together. hang on, they said, we thought you needed a sensitive type? you know the sort of guy who dries tears, not causes them to flow as freely as the bloody danube?

sensitive, caring. a smorgasboard of qualities. he should be this and he should be that.
my ideal man?
my IDEAL.

you made one mistake in your brilliant analysis of my sometimes fucked and sometimes brilliant relationship.


ideals don't exist except in your head. they never have in mine.

ideals are yardsticks you will never measure up to. no i will not meet tall dark and handsome unless im blonde beautiful and busty.

ideals work both ways, luv.

breakfast in bed with red roses on the side?

how about semi burned eggs and toast eaten off the frying pan?

drinking champagne out of each other's glasses?

what and twist a tendon while twining arms? how aboutdrinking white straight from the bottle? a swig for me, and another for you.

romantic luncheon dates with lots of salad and finger food.

steak with all the trimmings, and guiness downed in a gulp.

long late night phone conversations.

they dont get longer or later, lah!

no, he isn't ideal but that doesnt stop him from being perfect. in just about every which way.

maybe he isnt as sensitive as you would have liked him to be, but...

what about the times he dried your tears?
when he kept awake till stupid o clock to psych you for your doctor appointments?
called you long distance just to say hi?
held you while you slept?
and while you wept?
kissed you good morning and good night?
kissed you for no reason at all?
said i love you and meant it?
what about the times you watched him sleep
and struggle to be what you wanted him to be?

i am your wonderwall you say to me, Shubhendu.

You are mine.

You're my redemption.

and i love you so....