A couple of days ago I had me a moment, which perfectly encapsulated the sad reality of my life.
I was out shopping with one of my closest male friends (he and I are each other's backup plan, should our love lives be at the same pathetic place five years from now). We entered one of my favourite stores, Anokhi, and I made a beeline for the section that sells cotton boxers. As I was browsing the merchandise, I saw this fantastic pair of French knickers - words cannot describe how amazing they were. Beautiful Rajasthani blue & the softest cotton imaginable. It was true love at first sight. Unfortunately they were Rs. 300 - a sum of money I cannot even dream of spending on a pair of chuddees right now. I looked to my potential future husband with great sorrow and explained to him why those knickers could not be mine. He looked sympathetic and since he's a rich (or soon to be rich) doctor in the US, offered to buy them for me.
That was the moment - in Anokhi (a place where all my retail dreams come true), standing in front of a man who I love but am not in love with, too poor to buy myself underwear and too proud/ inhibited to let him buy them for me...all the while pining and despondent because the man I'd like to wear them for has not called me in over a week.
(The one that got away: Imagine this very same scarf as a pair of divine French knickers...)