Random transcontinental thoughts

It just occured to me that every Indian girl that I had once thought I was in love with or could fall in love with has
a) got engaged or married
b) told me atleast a hundred times that I am a nice guy, and I will make someone really happy (dunno why but they all agree on someone else)
c) told me that I must continue writing poetry and send her a copy when I get published (all are freeloaders in this regard, though I suspect they just want to check if any poems written for them feature in the collection, just to figure if I gave my best shot I guess)
d) beautiful eyes, but a lack of singing ability (next one will be asked to sing before I look at those eyes)
e) doubted at least once that my muse for the poem composed for her must have been someone else (I guess they thought the poem was too good to be true)
f) asked me when will you graduate? (to show they care, when in fact they never cared enough)

I like American women. American women love cats and dogs. Unfortunately I belong to neither species.

In fact, thinking about american women, I have figured I always end up prefering
a) blondes over brunnettes (maybe golden hair seems more exquisite)
b) beauties with no taste for Rock Shows (American and yet they don't like any American Music I like)
c) hopeless romantics, stuck in wrong buildings doing romantically hopeless stuff!
Each one among them eventually vanishes into some well known city with periodically changing boyfriends, and I feel happy that I don't feature among their endless ex-list; which obviously does not prevent me from remembering them kindly.

I like Chinese woman, as long as they don't utter a single chinese word; most falter within minutes of my meeting them. The ones I liked, unfortunately, were either:
a) Married
or
b) Not chinese, but Taiwanese or Korean or Malaysian
They are not that nosy, and don't have much to frown with, but I cannot stand the historical and geometrical difference we have had with them.

Of course, I will mention European woman; they interest me immensely. They make perfect conversationalists; invariably they do so with their boyfriends hanging about in a small distance. Usually there is more than one in the vicinity.

The South Americans can set any heart abuzz; mine is no different. Thanks to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, I know all about their magical realism, much of which scares me more than it fascinates me and thanks to Neruda, I cannot impress a single one with whatever poetic talents I possess!

I don't like Australian females; I have never known any. Judging from Fosters, kangaroos and their cricket team, I don't think I will ever like any.

Which brings me back to Indian females, for one among them must be sitting in some dreamy state somewhere, hoping that the guy of her dreams will be this or that, will take her here or there, will earn a lot or a lot more, will be handsome or dazzling, will be reasonable and loving. I hope she is learning to make awesome tea already, has patience to hear more verses than English Poetry Professors read in a lifetime, can survive, like me, on hopes and dreams, and most importantly loves chaos I bring with me. Else, I guess I will look myself and this time give up all hopes if she shares any qualities with the aforementioned cases.

Amen

PS: No women were hurt in writing this blog. The only hurt remains with your truly, and he is currently using that to compose love letters to impress and impersonate fools of every possible kind.