Things about VC that I never want to forget #5
VC has a way with the women
I can’t seem to tell where he gets it from. Its certainly not in his genes — because nobody else in his family is as charming. Or witty, for that matter. He couldn’t have picked it up from around him, because charming women was certainly not something that was encouraged or discussed at home. He went to an all-boys school and had what I’d like to think of as a totally forgettable college life, which included such things as bunking class to play cricket all day long, not visiting Pecos which was down the lane from college, and not really paying attention to too many girls. Degree college? Lets just say he spent it lusting over a woman not worth his time. Just lusting, and thinking, and being charming, but not really doing anything about it, if you know what I mean. And yet, with his deep brown eyes, impeccable chivalry and manners, I have seen VC charm many a woman. Whether he’s interested in them or not. Its like some natural talent that’s just waiting to catch an unsuspecting woman unawares — age, religion, class, sect, status no-bar.
Whether he’s just looking out for someone ensuring she has an escort to drop her off late at night, or he’s offering to cook poached eggs, making movie night plans, or being a boisterous PS3 competitor, I’ve noticed that he has some innate knack with charming the women folk. Nobody cares two hoots if I’m around or not. I’ve seen the young ones flutter their eyelashes, get tense and awkward around me and if the grapevine is to be believed, there’s been a girl or two in the office who have harboured a heavy crush on him. When I was still there!
I was a victim of his ways at one point in time. Many a nights he’d hang around at the office, when I was working late, just so he could be the one to make sure I got home safe. This one time I had pulled 2 all-nighters in a row and had called him telling him I was exhausted. So when I got home close to 4 a.m. on night 3, my mother opened the door, to show me what had been delivered earlier in the evening. An enormous, and I mean gigantic, bouquet of yellow roses (my favourite kind) to cheer me up. Of course mommies know best, and her first reaction to this was, “Whoever sent these to you either really likes you, or is just very generous. Most likely the former.” And of course I rubbished her notions officiously. Heh, little did I know, I was slowly being charmed. The VC way.
When we were done being in denial (actually that was just me, he just proceeded charming the daylights out of me, with singleminded focus) about the way we felt about each other, there was the weekly Sunday night fancy date. Every Sunday night, he’d take me out. Same routine, but with a genuine effort to really turn on the charm. He’d shower, dress pretty, smell all nice, come pick me up, take me someplace fancy and cozy, book a corner table, sometimes make flowers appear form nowhere, pull my chair out for me, make hushed intimate conversation, share a gooey dessert and all that jazz. Basically, systematically just turn me to mush. And let’s just say, it worked.
So when the night ended and he dropped me home, I never really wanted to go home. And we all know how that story ended. Because there is only so much charming one can take and many weeks of these niceties later we found we were effortlessly discussing the intricacies of a life together. Of course our naiive little heads we so clouded by the charm, the romance, all the heavy breathing and the thrill of the damn chase, it was but natural to imagine that a life after meant would be the present times forever.
Right? Except, its not.
Don’t get me wrong here. It’s not that the husband doesn’t have the charm. It’s not like he’s lost it post-marriage. It’s just that now that he has the cat in the bag, for life. There’s nothing left to charm me about. And all the charm is saved up for harmless banter with everyone else. C’est la vie.
Sometimes, even now I see a glimmer of the old VC. When he sneakily pulls out the choicest phrases (sometimes unwittingly) that send a certain someone into raptures and giggles. Or when he is deep in eyeball-locked conversation with another young one who I know is quite smitten by his, what should I call it, erm, intelligence. And when I rib him about how he’s shamelessly lapping up all the attention he gets, and his face is flushed by that strange hue of red.
I now get my kicks from being a silent spectator. As for us, and our romance? It now needs a prompter and a laughter track that comes on at all the right moments. Like when I’m racing to bed, to get there before him, just so all the pre-bed duties like locking the doors, shutting the balcony doors, turning out the lights, can all be left to him, and I mockingly remind him by shouting out from bed, “Don’t forget to turn out the lights, VC!”, and I have him swoop into the bedroom with a wicked grin on his face, saying:
“I don’t turn things off in here, babehhh. I only turn things on.”
Cue: laughter, please.
So yes. 5 years of the charm, and all I get now are corny one liners. I could swear I had at least three more in mind when I started writing this post. But in jogging my memory back to the time when I didn’t see this coming, I think I have forgotten. I even called the husband just now, desperation in my voice, “What was that thing you said the other day that I said I would blog about?! I’m writing about it now and I can’t remember!”
He was in a meeting. And he wasn’t amused. I should really start jotting them down. Because he has a way with the women, he really does. Or I suppose I wouldn’t be sitting here racking my brains to recollect those gems and write about it.
And before you give me a lecture about the state of my marriage, look here to see what else I’ve penned to 1) embarrass the husband and 2) entertain myself.