Oh this is not a love story, not a heartbreak. If you have come here for that, please turn away- there’s nothing other than disappointment for you here. There’s enough material for your melancholy night on this blog- just look at the last two posts and you will have your hearts fill! However, this little post is something of a self-roast brought to you by a premier wine that the author had to drink alone.
What’s better than being bald, unattractive, single and 30 years old? Nothing much, I tell ya! You wake up with no expectations, nothing to look forward to- you can live life as you have always wanted – in the fucking moment. Those moments, that in the past have done absolute wonders for your mental and physical health, uplifted you from being a somber sober chocolate boy to the doped motherfucker others warn their sisters from, “Ye dekho, saala charsi”. Nasha kar ke to dekho bhenchodon, it’s not poison.
See, if you are anywhere like me, anywhere in this predicament, you can always take solace in the fact that you will be the saving grace for someone. Someone is going to be desperate enough in the coming few years to like you enough to make the call- and let’s face it, you don’t have the balls to do that. Like fucking ever. Some beautiful damsel down the line will be falling off from a cliff- a failed marriage, a failed relationship- and you will be the olive (lmao!) branch that she hangs on from! You just need to do one thing- be a stable source- emotionally, financially- like whatever. I mean, ek cheez to karni padegi na yaar life mein. You were not born with a silver spoon, you have had to take care of your own shit. You tried to do that, you failed. You missed the first train, but you sure as fuck are going to be ready for the blowback.
When I was a kid, I saw this movie with the Indian actor Nana Patekar when he exclaimed, famously, “ek macchar aadmi ko hinchda bana deta hai”- one mosquito can render a man transvestite. Bandiyaan bhi yahi karti hain bhai. You weren’t born a Brad Pitt or a Hritik Roshan, you need to calculate every step that you put forward. You looked into an eye and thought that, that is it. Life is fucking lit. Aankhon aankon mein kya dekha chaar baar, ho gaya pyaar X hazaar. And you know that you are going to fall for those eyes like you have always done- with every single girl that has made a mistake of looking into yours- even if it were eyes of concern- “is everything right with this guy he looking at me like dis”. But you are a romeo bought up by empty promises of a SRK or a Tom Cruise.
Am I making any sense here? If you are having an existential crisis- fuck it- knowing you, you’ve probably seen worse. If you are having a tough time with a loved one- know that she might probably leave you and let’s face it- you are not the most prized possession that this world has every bestowed on someone. As Tyler Durden puts it, “You are not special. You’re not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We’re all part of the same compost heap. We’re all singing, all dancing crap of the world.”
You are all alone, And nothing is more beautiful than that. You have survived the worst that life has thrown out at you, and you came on top. You are here, you are alive, and you are successful.
You, my friend, have already won. Any doubt- look at the picture accompanying this post again!