If there’s anything that my job of precisely nine days has taught me, apart from the fact that it is specialise with an s and not a z (shut up you monster auto-correct) it is to value time.
As a journalist you’ve been told day in and out to value people’s time. Reach on time, be early, start two days prior to the event if you must. BUT DON’T YOU DARE GET LATE.
So I naturally began to believe that people (commoners unlike us snooty journalists. Fine. People who live normal lives) would value my time too. But, I was to be proved wrong; And who better than HRH Distant Boy.
So it was a beautiful Monday morning. While the entire world was busy getting annoyed and ready to work, I was lazing around. Then I made plans with Distant Boy. I get one day off from work and I had just decided to spend it with Distant Boy. Maybe I do deserve that slap after-all.
Anyway. I get up. Get ready and am raring to go.
The plan was simple. We meet at a coffee shop, spend some time and blah blah blah. End of story. He goes home, I go home and I spend the rest of my evening wondering why I would want to waste one precious day off.
That was what would have happened. If it wasn’t for Distant Boy’s call, no actually his message.
11.15 am: Meet up later. And by later he meant an hour late.
I wanted to throw a fuss. But I had to act cool and nonchalant.
Big deal if Distant Boy postpones our plans. I have a thousand suitors knocking on my door. I can date one of them.
NO. Not in a thousand years. First it’s difficult for thousand boys to fit in the space that leads to my home. Second, if there were a thousand boys knocking at my door, Jacky would fend them off with her overtly-friendly nature.
Not to forget her clingy-pet-me-or-I-will die behaviour.
Sigh. Life has not known to be fair.
12.30 pm: So I go meet a friend. Hang out with her for more than a few needed hours.
12.15 pm: Get bored.
3 pm: Head home.
Blah blah blah.
8 pm and he still says, “I’m going to meet you. Work came up. Boss in town.”
Right now I’m sitting wide-eyed.
While random thoughts of assassinating his boss and Distant Boy in cool snipper style pop in my head. I began to feel sad about wasting my first holiday.
I’ve never been stood up. Not by someone for a story. And definitely not by a date.
So I go to my friends house. Misery loves company. And I vaguely recollect the reason behind my friend’s misery
There are a thousand reasons to be miserable.
Having to pay these auto drivers Rs 5 extra is one of them. Though I don’t remember why she was.
Incidentally. Distant Boy happens to stay near my friends home.
So after a good healthy bitching session with my friend.
Distant Boy calls.
11.40 pm.
I’m so furious. But I also know that I have the golden ticket and I will be making him pay for the rest of his life. I snigger and decide to take the call after a good 5 minutes. Just as I was about to take it, the call gets cut.
Such a fail moment. Thank you world.
Anyway. He calls back and I act pricey and ask him to go date his boss.
He refuses and as I’m standing in the balcony at the god-forbidden hour with my friend, who is constantly trying to kill mosquitoes and her pet Scooby who is attempts to bark but is distracted by a moth.
I see someone standing on the road and talking on the phone.
My first instinct was a ghost.
And as I’m about to scream and pray.
I realise that it was Distant Boy.
Looking up with sad puppy eyes.
So I sneak down and meet him.
He apologises. And we make up.
As he walks back in the silent of the night.
I stand in the balcony.
Feeling extremely happy on making him miserable.
I wonder, if he had brought some flowers, a little Nutella and the likes, life would have been a fairy tale.
Then I realised.
That standing in a balcony while swatting those damned mosquitoes; Looking at Distant Boy walk away( after being bullied by me), was making me far more happy than it would, if I was a helpless Princess stuck in a Fairy Tale.
yesnobutwhy 