Things about VC that I never want to forget #6
VC takes me to be one of the boys
You know, with the backslapping. And the loud guffawing. And the obscene jokes. And the unflinching ease with which he assumes I will be up for a night of beer and banter as opposed to wine and cheese.
I guess I could blame myself and my sometimes over-zealous independence. I guess it could be that he has never had to really attention to the real quirks of a girl. There is also the faint possibility, that I don’t let him pull the heavy weight as much as he should — but VC really does take me to be one of the boys.
I realise it distinctly when we sometimes spot well preened chicitas in Goa, and we scoff at their perfectly fakely straightened hair, their drainpipe jeans and the miniscule little clutch — the look that seems to have been copy-pasted all over the place. Or when people visit us and there is invariably one party of women who want to go shopping, and he takes care to include me with the men who go drinking. Or when I spot a hot woman walk by, and I nudge him and point her out, wingman-style. Little things like that, but they happen so often its almost default now.
It could also have everything to do with me, and not him. Because I’ve largely only had male friends, save for the one odd female bestie who never lasted the test of time. I’m used to being with the boys, scouting for pretty girls, assessing them in code language, giving them equal if not more competition in appetite for meat and dessert, burping loudly and generally being a boy, the way boys are when in a group.
But some of this has changed in recent times.I don’t know if it has something to do with nearing in on the Big 3-0, or it is just the girl in me finally surfacing, but I find myself seeking out female company, I make plans to hang out with the few woman I know here (yes, even here in Goa, I have more male friends) even though I know at the back of my mind that tete-a-tete is almost always going to be unceremoniously turned around by the husband and a few other boys who manage to turn up. Every small little hangout somehow always turns into a big boisterous affair. And I think its because they can’t imagine I’d like it any other way. It doesn’t occur to him and the others that maybe I’d like some girl time.
So when I recently expressed to him how its uncanny that I suddenly find myself with more women friends than I have had in all my life, and how I am actually enjoying re-discovering my love for jewelry, handloom textiles, cupcakes and cookies and the like, I was aghast to see his reaction. Where I expected him to be surprised and maybe even slightly relieved, I saw jaw-dropped, shocked almost bordering on disappointed husband, pleading, “Aw come on Rere, you’re not one of them! Don’t tell me I’ve lost you to them!”
I didn’t quite know how to react.
Right, its official then. He really did think of me as one of his kind. Mildly disturbing as that is, it is also kind of endearing. If all else fails, at least I know I’ll always have a best friend in him. Someone who will join me in the joy of never having to go shopping, someone who will always make a beeline for the beer, and of course someone who will shamelessly sling his arm around my shoulder and whisk me away with him. As an equal.
For some of his other exemplary traits and more disturbing truths about our marriage, look here.