That’s the one line in my orkut profile that’s shocking the bejesus out of everyone. Committed? Him? What kind of silly, blind, insane, sadistic prick of a girl would ever think of being in a relationship with a guy who thinks that… with a guy who thinks! Well, laddies and ladies, here’s something from the dictionary:
Committed: (transitive verb) CONSIGN. To place in a prison or mental hospital esp. by judicial order.
It’s not a case of sour grapes, I can assure you. I believe that I am, as Bertie Wooster was, in the words of Jeeves, “One of nature’s confirmed bachelors.” I’m just not boyfriend material. College-life, though just a semester and a half old, has shown me why. What I present is wisdom gained from experiences into what it takes to be a boyfriend at:
- Amity School of Engineering.
- St. Stephen’s College
- Hindu College
- Sri Venkateshwara College
- Lady Shri Ram College
- Netaji Subhas Institute of Technology
- Delhi College of Engineering
Among others (Bethany High and FAPS, Bangalore need mentioning as primary sources in the others category). How do I know this? Fests. You are almost forced into observing and admiring the sheer valor and bravery it takes to be a boyfriend. Indeed, I openly admit my inadequacy, for I do not have what it takes. I cannot:
- Abandon all self-respect, vanity and ego; in front of my girlfriend. The mentioned qualities expand gargantually when in front of my friends, but I’m not willing to be a guy who’s so desperate to be in a relationship and have a girlfriend so as to show off in front of his mates that I’ll swallow my pride and let my self-respect be ground to the dust.
- I’m materialistic. But I’m not very well-off. That would indicate that I’ll have to sacrifice all of my desires for her. So, instead of buying that ‘The Best of The Doors’ CD I’ve been eyeing, i’ll have to get two gold-class tickets to see a crappy romantic comedy that probably stars Hugh Grant (I’m assuming that I’ll never fall in love with a girl who’ll make me see ‘Salaam-e-Ishq’. That’s just NOT happening), buy popcorn and stuff and then take her out to dinner. Riiiight.
- The process of approaching a girl without her reaching for a can of pepper spray, talking to her, convincing her to go out on a date with you and finally, getting some “hey-hey” is long, arduous and requires almost infinite resolve and infinity plus 1 reserves of patience and desperation. Of which I have neither. Besides, sex isn’t everything. It’s a lot, but it’s not everything.
- I cannot listen to things which, had they been said by anyone else, I would’ve banged my fist on the table and demanded that the person, “Stop Talking Rot!” (and I’m not sure it’s not, “Bally Rot!”), but since they come from the mouth of my girlfriend, I must listen… and listen… and listen… and listen… and listen… and listen… and listen… and listen…
- I’ll also have to talk “Bally Rot!”. I cannot send heart-icon text messages or stuff like, “Do not sleep with a broken heart, for that heart is mine…” at midnight, rather than sending “We’re trashing Roma 6-0! This is fuckincreadible!” Or call her things like “sweetie” while she calls me “jaanu“.
- It can’t always be my fault. No it’s not! Goddammit!
- I haven’t seen ONE relationship where the guy and the girl discuss something remotely intellectual. I have seen too many relationships where all discussions are gossip.
There are perhaps more reasons, but they’ve been discussed to death and I’m starving, so I’ll stop here. To any person of the opposite sex who’s reading this (I have 1,800 hits… 1200 are Nimish, 400 are Dinesh and 189 are mine… that’s 11 readers), no offence. Nothing against you. I just value my sanity too much. Or rather, my insanity.