No strings attached

There she goes, there she goes again. There she goes, good riddance! Sorry Sixpence None the Richer, but she leaves for such month-long periods very rarely. It’s been a few years together now, a reasonable portion of which we have now spent living in.

She still doesn’t know how to iron clothes, deal with the servant, make tea or even Maggi! I’ve spent so much time satiating her sudden afternoon desires and midnight hunger pangs (hmmm), missing MY work and sleep to take my “protected” girl to her workplace, appeasing her consistent mood swings, cleaning my (read: our) room, that now when she’s gone, I have suddenly realised how it feels to be single.

Not that she has stopped calling every third hour, but I feel an almost certain shade of redemption. Yes, redemption, because now I will not be pinched, slapped, have my hair pulled and plucked, every time I stop to admire some strange beauty. And yeah, because men will be men, I will try to not keep it to innocent distant appreciating anymore. I will not trip on guilt or any such virtues. I will no longer evade the hot girl at work who has been rather keen on a binge drinking session. I will also allow my sister’s new roommate to come check my music collection—not that she asked but I’m sure she would like it. And of course, I will go out partying with the boys and be as promiscuous as I can. This is really a cool albeit temporary lease of life and every morning I wake up, I will think aloud, “Carpe diem!”

She has been wise enough to leave behind spies but those friends she has left this duty to are probably more unimaginative than a dead cow. More importantly, I have collected their dirty secrets from my dear girlfriend herself which will be a good barter in case things go wrong or if I become way too nonchalant when I’m high. So all the backups are well in place and I’m behind an impenetrable firewall of my lofty intelligence. Besides, I will continue to butter up my dear girlfriend at least once everyday about how much I really miss her. This will also ensure that she doesn’t go spying on what I’m up to here. It’s a win-win situation.
Honestly, it’s not that I would enjoy doing something like this and I’m not too sure whether I would end up actually fulfilling these ambitions. I really love my girl but this is not about love. This is about being a man and accepting the temptations, this is about being the tragic hero. This is about looking sin in the eye, and enacting that extremely hard expression.

And if you are wondering what I would say to the new girlies in case they asked about all the feminine paraphernelia in the house, I’m going to be extremely honest. I will certainly tell them just the truth of how badly she dumped me and left me in a world still plastered with her reminiscence—it has to work! But I hope it doesn’t really get down to that and I get to hang out with the beautiful blithe species of the opposite sex, no strings
attached. Maybe someone who’s boyfriend is out of town for a month or so.