I say this because this is true. Why do I say so? It’s not me, it’s the symptoms. Symptoms that to the trained and clichéd eye seem to be that of love.
Now, I am not an expert on this topic so probably won’t be able to be delicate and nice about it and this might hurt any sensitive readers feelings. Now there are several phrases used about it which irk the soul. This ‘falling’ in love and ‘rising’ too. The supporters of both the theories have flooded orkut and facebook profiles with quotes. Why can’t they just stand still in love? Isn’t being in love supposed to be the state when everything else ceases to matter. Nothing moves except a moving stillness. But I guess that is surreal and once again a cliché.
I don’t have anything against love birds. They are interesting to watch from afar but very boring to be around with. Either they are too lovey-dovey which can get embarrassing and frustrating especially if you are single. Or they are very quarrelsome which makes you wish fervently for remaining single. What I am against is their penchant for match-making. Since three is a crowd, they are always trying to pull in a fourth member to make it a happy foursome so that the one who is lonesome doesn’t become meddlesome in their billing and cooing. What they don’t realise is that this in most cases is downright degrading both for the third and the fourth. Suppose the fourth has a runny nose? Or the third has a shrieking laughter? Or the third and the fourth hate being chaperones?
It’s not only besotted couples who do this ‘catch the match’ thing. I have some friends, who are single and take an active interest in finding the firsts and seconds for the third and fourths. They spy every stolen glance, titter at every handshake, smirk at every smile exchanged and scent cupid in every blush. Now being of a very blushful, smiley and handshaky nature I have been a victim of this devil in disguise often. After a long and strong friendship, I have been able to convince her (I hope) that I am not in love.
But you have to be careful. A careless smile can lead to a lot of trouble. The fourths start believing that they can make you a likely second. And start dropping hints. It’s a hint that you should start dropping them hints which mean otherwise. And I have, by repeatedly asserting my feminist nature, ranting against ‘chauvinist men who believe that women were made from the ribs of a man’ and so forth. Enough to keep any attention seeker at bay. Seriously I am not the sort of person who can fall in a third or fourth’s ‘made for each other’ criteria or be impressed by mushy love tributes.
Another reason why people can take you to be that of a romantic nature is your affection for reading. To the ignorant, novels mostly mean love stories. Or to be precise, the ubiquitous paper backs sold in the market, which have a titillating cover page, a sensational back cover and a very boring plot. Am not denying having read any. Have read some in teenage, due to curiosity, peer group or simply because of lack of having anything else to read. But I graduated from thereon to a better and higher scale. I do read romantic fiction even now, but that has become a rare event. I can be found curled up with a Wodehouse these days.
Finally, what adds frosting to the cake is my ‘INFP’ personality as revealed by mbti, a personality test devised by none other than Carl Jung and administered to me by a friend with q-th degree of imbecility. Well, us ‘INFPs’ behave like INFPs are supposed to. And am no different. (INFPs are idealistic, loyal to their values and to people who are important to them. Want an external life that is congruent with their values. Curious, quick to see possibilities, can be catalysts for implementing ideas. Seek to understand people and to help them fulfil their potential. Adaptable, flexible, and accepting unless a value is threatened. ) Now these sorts of personality orders give people food for thought. But I vehemently oppose it. I am a good Samaritan, not someone in love. To give effect to the contrary, I have started being snappy and vicious to anyone who even tries to hint about ‘love being in the air’.
The camel’s back got broken by the straw that was laid by Karan Johar in ‘Kuch Kuch Hota Hai’, a lovesick movie where Shahrukh Khan says in a literature class ‘Pyaar Dosti Hai’. And the scales fell from people’s eyes.
Friends started eyeing each other surreptitiously. Trying to realise “If you wanna be my lover, then you got to be my friend”. So that even honest and pristine friendship came under suspicion. So, I make this declaration:
My dear friends, I love you, but I am NOT in love with you.
Contradict this with the statement given by my nemesis, D Silent Assassin– “A boy and a girl can’t be simply friends. Feelings! They always crop up somewhere.”
But I don’t blame people for their suspicions. After all, I stay up late each night, am engrossed in books, try to seek solitude, keep listening to soft music , have male friends and found busy on the phone.
But these rather than being symptoms of love are signs of being an unlovable person.
Not that I plan to die like this. What I dislike is continuously being at somebody’s elbow, this idiotic celebration of rose day and valentine’s day., the petty quarrels, the long shayari, the public display of affection and the ‘ love u’, ‘miss u’ kinds of text messages.
I have my own versions of the perfect Raymonds man. The strong and the silent one, both of which are essential. The mental strength to get along with me and the silence to match my verbosity.
Sadly... Mr. Darcy is getting dusty in a bookshelf.
Listening sagely to this long diatribe of mine, my wise friend got up and smiled sardonically..... ‘You know something, dear. Your soliloquy provides a proof against itself.’
Love, actually?
No!
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