Archive for fiance

Writing

Day 10,178 – Sunday – 05 Sravana 1930 – 23 Rajab 1429 – 27 July 2008

And as suddenly as it started. The writers block is over. I have so much to write about. I am suddenly very happy, very excited and very high on how things are with me. Although the fact that I am not immeasurably rich and have the sexual capacity of a rabbit and the choice of sexual partners similar to Justin Timberlake is a constant nag, but I move on in life and enjoy what I do indeed have, as should everyone else, except the fact that this is such an incredibly long sentence that anyone who is still reading has not idea what I am talking about, hence the requirement for psychosis inhibiting pills to be crushed and added to my meals on a regular basis.

So, my ex fiance wants to get back together with me. I don’t know why. She broke off the engagement because she felt that I, read the word “I” again in a very self obsessed narcissistic manner and you will understand the actual pronunciation, had too many issues. Of course I did. No one is perfect. Then why are you coming back to me to beg, and I mean beg, me to take her back. Why? I am so confused? If I didn’t hate her enough for having rejected me, as would anyone else on the face of this planet who does get rejected, I would start doing it simply for this idiotic thing that she has started. I mean come on. You rejected me, left me, dumped me and broke of our engagement. And now you want me to take you back. I am sorry, but revenge is a dish best served cold. You left me once, and I am doing it now. I love being a heartless, calculating, evil man. It is so satisfying.

And then, as if my life was not stressful enough with all the excessive hunting for sex, I get a phone call at 1 am in the morning, it is NA’s mother in law saying that NA has not come home, is he with me. Of course, being a man, I immediately tell her that he was with me, but he must be at the game, at this time his wife takes the phone and starts talking to me. I am very very scared for NA. But, I cant show it, because, one – his wife will get worried, and two – he is my friend so I have to lie for him. So I tell her that he may not be able to use his phone because it was not working during the day. I am so delectably evil and yet available for sex at short notice. I change in 57 seconds, yes I saw this on the watch, and got to my car to find NA the idiot. But, just as I was starting my car, three minutes after the call, NAs wife calls me and tells me that he just called. I am so amazingly nice and yet available for sex at short notice.

Oh, and yes, me and my friend HS went to the wall on the beach. Amazing. It was incredibly cloudy and windy and the waves were absolutely crazy. Loved it. And since HS’s wife reads this, no, we did not smoke a lot. We are both trying to cut back, and we are both reasonable adults who do not lead self destructive lives. There, I said it!

Why the fuck cant I dance well. I hate not being able to dance well. Fuck!

Death

Friday – 15 Ramazan 1428 – 06 Asvina 1929 – 28 September 2007

Though it is not how we view things. But, we are the decisions that we make. Over a period of time, we become what we have done. There are times when desicions are made knowing the path and lead us towards our goal as we understand it. And then there are times when, oblivious to and maybe even apathetic to the direction we are moving in, we take decisions that alter our lives and us. The worst is when of our own free will and an absolute lack of coercion we make a decision that will lead us farther away from our goal and our life as we want it.

I have had to take such a decision recently. I opted for the third choice.

My engagement recently was a result of such a decision. For the past six years I have known that I could never lead the life of my choice. No one forced me. It was just how things are. My father would have considered it a complete loss of face to have an only son who is gay. My mother would have felt that I have been led astray and will ruin my life. Two people I care a lot about would have had the rest of their lives devastated. And I could not have accepted it because it would haunt me that I am the reason for their pain. So, the only way for me to go was to die. Not physically. Just that Jalal is becoming a separate person from me.

My blog is a place where I am who I really am. But, in my life, I am a completely different person. I used to joke about having multiple personality disorder. But, in a way it is true. The stigma attached to homosexuality does lead to people leading multiple lives. Usually they are two different lives. For me there is an online life through this blog and a community of people I interact with, and then there is the physical life of work and home and people I know through that. At an earlier point in time Jalal and myself had a lot in common. The difference between the two lives was not so acute. But, with the engagement, and with the expectations, and with the prying eyes of my family. I feel as if Jalal and myself are becoming two different people.

This sounds like a confession at one end and like a letter on the other. I have no idea why I am blogging this. Maybe for the catharsis. Maybe to just get my thoughts together. I do not know. That is how things are. Human beings are such fragile things, the light of consciousness and the ability to analyse our own feelings and thoughts, such complexity in such a small space.

Over the past one month I have told my fiance that I smoke, that I do take alcohol on a rather irregular basis, once a month or so, and that I do take drugs occasionally, once a quarter or so. Coming from a conservative background and endorsing that point of view as well, she took some time to accept it. But she did not accept it. Yesterday she told me to tell her father about all this, since she felt that he should know about these habits of mine.

I cant, I just cant. It is very very difficult. There are complications that I cannot reveal here or they will lift the veil on who I am. I cant tell him. And she wont accept me if I dont. So, the question was, I can distance myself from alcohol and drugs forever. But I wont tell her father. I think she will accept it. I will do this to handle this situation that could get very very bad otherwise.

But, with so many compromises. She is a Muslim, in am an Agnostic, in our situation I have to act like a Muslim. She has a strong faith in her religion, I have a strong faith in mine, I can not show it. She can never accept her husband to drink alcohol, I do, and I have to leave it. She can never accept her husband to do drugs, I do, and I have to leave it. God I am crying. This is so fucking childish. Everything and every manner in which I deviate from the moderate Pakistani social setup I am doomed. I have a personality built on some things, and they are all doomed. My being like this is not acceptable in either society at large or in my immediate family. I do not want to comform for my sake, but for the sake of other people. I have to.

I think that with this, I am in a way trying to kill Jalal in my physical reality. I dont know if I will be successful. I can do it in the short term. But, what I fear is time. Countless days, melting into months, melting into years, melthing in decades. Will I be able to keep Jalal dead in the decades to come. If I can, then yes, I have compromised and conformed and changed myself. But, if I can not, then what? What of the assurance I am to give my fiance tomorrow? If I can not do it, then I should not commit. But I dont want to kill Jalal. I like him. And for fucks sake I am crying again. I hate this.

I would love for there to be a situation, where I am what I am. I am accepted for what I am. And I can live like what I am. I know, it is a land of fantasy. I know that neither society nor my family will accept me as that. I know it can not happen. I know I will have to be what they want me to be. But, I do not want that. Life seems very very unfair, but then again it is life, it is as it is. Neither fair, nor unfair. I am what I am, and I am not supposed to be. I know this is acceptable in many countries outside Pakistan. But the thought of my parents here with my lifestyle gnawing at the core of their existence. The complete extrangement that I will have to undergo from my family. I cant do that. I want two things at the same time which can just not be in the possession of the same person.

I feel as if I am living in a world where I am not the object of desire. By family, by society, by anyone. The object of desire is a figure in an imagination who is exactly upto the expectations that people have set for me. It is not I but my impression in their conscience that they love and adore. I feel so useless. What is life but a series of injuries, to our egos, to our bodies, to our souls. Cest la Vie.

Tomorrow I live again, a new day. But Jalal dies outside this electronic world of weblogs, online communities, emails and messaging programs.

انّا للہ و انّا الیہی رجیعون

I will be in mourning. It is a very big loss. Words are so weak. Thoughts so poignant. Emotions so strong.

Weekend

Sunday – 10 Ramazan 1428 – 01 Asvina 1929 – 23 September 2007

Ahhhhhhhh. I love weekends. I just love them. I can finally keep awake for as long as I want. I can get out of bed when I want to, no sooner no later. Love it. The mere concept of waking up and not rushing to work, rather, going back to sleep is utterly amazing.

And I went to Sunday Bazaar today. Now, I do agree that Sunday bazaar has gone down the drain quite a bit. I mean, at least one hundred times worst that I remember. But, it is still fun to see things. Oh, and yes, the guys out there are totally delectable, to say the least. I just cant stop staring and it becomes slightly awkward. My mom or today, my cousin asking me something I was just checking out this guy and I was just hmmm hmmm hann hann, and she realized what was going on and she turned around. Thankfully, there was a hot girl standing over there and she just smiled and told me that she will tell my fiance that I was checking out a girl in an orange dress. Good God! Dude! How little you know. Need to be more careful in public. Aaaaa aaaaa aaaaa aaaaa aaaaa.

God I love Sundays.

Accident

Friday – 08 Ramazan 1428 – 30 Bhadra 1929 – 21 September 2007

So today turned out to be a very active day. As opposed to how I like my days.  I always want a bit of sanity and I also want that when I get home I can relax after work. That is the least that someone can expect after they bust their ass at work from 9 am to 9 pm on a daily basis six days a week with Sundays off. But then again, it seems that everyone in my family has a different idea of fun and being active.

To start off with, the cook. Ok, he moves so fast, and works in such a frazzled way that I get scared of him. And I mean scared. His hands move at such a fast pace that I feel as if there are phobias growing inside of me. And, today, due to this very reason, this uncontrollable haste, he dropped a frying pan full of bubbling oil on his foot. His foot gets burned and he has to be taken to the hospital.

We go to the South City hospital. A good hospital otherwise. But, we have an injured/burned guy sitting in the waiting area and we are being told that since this hospital does not have an Emergency Room they cannot attend to the patient. Now, what in fuck’s name is the use of having a fucking hospital in the middle of the fucking city if a patient is dying on the extremely  expensive leather chairs in the waiting lounge because the fucking building says hospital and the guy who was in an accident thinks he might save his fucking life by going to this moron dungeon. If you dont have a fucking place where morons when they are about to die come in to get treated do not fucking put up a hospital sign on your front fucking door. Stupid capitalist heartless asshole fucks. Hippocrates is dead.

So, we went to another hospital. By this time my cook is an agony. It was Ziauddin hospital, which was actually a hospital. He was taken for treatment. So, I had to get all the medicine and all so they could bind the wound and all. I get the stuff and then ask the guy to charge it on my credit card. I am told that they do not take credit card payments for less than 200 rupees.  So, I told him that I dont have cash so we cannot treat the guy. There was an argument, I even told him to charge me 200 rupees and just gimme the stuff I wanted, the rest was for the procedure, he didnt do that either. I had to buy things for 200 rupees. But then, he told me that I can always pay later and there is no need for me to keep arguing that I must pay him by my Credit Card right then. Moron, he made it seem as if I was arguing with him when it was him arguing with me. I mean, fuck! I hate manipulative people.

In the middle of this, I had to go pick up my sister. My two other sisters and my mother called me twice each to tell me this within a 10 minute period. I was supposed to pick her up at 8. But they told me 7:30, it was 7:15. So, I rushed out of the hospital to pick her up. I got two phone calls within the next 10 minutes. I got very rushed and frazzled. I had an accident. There was a dog running on the road, the guy in front of my screeched to a stop and I hit him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And in the next 10 minutes on my way to pick up my sister I got two other phone calls reminding me to pick her up. When I got there she sat in the car to leave and was so pissed. I asked her why and she said she had gotten 10 calls from everyone telling her that I will pick her up so she should hurry up. This is 7:35. Dinner had been served 2 mins ago and the party was over at 8. She was so angry, and so was I. There were 2 more phone calls to confirm if I had picked her up. I shashed my mobile on the car’s dashboard. It is still working thankfully. But, I fucking hate stupid fucking women. I think men should be allowed to beat up women if they are so fucking stupid that they dont fucking realize that you are not supposed to fucking call people more than 2 fucking times in an hour.

Things were ok till then. Despite dealing with moronic hospital staff, evil dispensary guys and fucking irrtating family members I was in a good mood. Then I had a fight with my fiance. Since this section involves two people, I dont know if this is right or this is just my biased opinion. Since my fiance lives in a different city, I think she wants us to talk on the phone for at least 2 hours on a daily basis. Impossible for me due to work, but I manage. Today we had some guests over. So, I just SMSd her that I wont be able to talk to her and she should go to sleep. Then she sent messages like, I wanna talk to you for 2 mins and stuff. And I was so so so irritated. I mean, she can call me, she doesnt have to play games. Khair, all in all, we had a huge fight. And now I hate women more.

So, moral of the story is, you cant change people. If people want to relax after work. Let them. If they are doing something already. Do not fucking call them ten fucking times within an hour to do the same thing. And lastly, please dont fucking expect your fiance to call you for two hours on a daily basis. He is a guy and we just dont fucking do that. Otherwise you can just become a lesbian and share your fucking feelings all day long. If you want a fucking penis then dont go around looking for a pussy. Good God. I need to shut up.

PS – Sorry guys, too much venom, dont mean most of it, use my blog for catharsis. Dont think about this again. I dont want more cases of psychosis due to my blog ;)