And just like that, out of nowhere, my dad gave me ‘Gyan’. It was minutes after I had woken up and I wasn’t in any mood or mentally sober to accept it with any grace.
‘I’m not a kid dad. I’ll figure something up’, I snapped back.
And that’s that. The headache was mine and mine alone.
What came next was a flurry of pictures , expectations and dreams that went along with them. I was not entirely new to the routine. I knew what had to be done. The rules were rather simple.
1. Always and Always take into account the realities of life.
2. Too good to be true scenarios are always too good to be true!
I did what other sensible blokes do. I CALLED MY FRIENDS for their suggestions and opinion. Funny that. A full blown adult and I still do prefer the counsel of my friends .Talk about that perpetual fight for empowerment, decision making and wanting to be in control and yet the first thing we seem to do is ask a mate and kick start the ‘4 people 4 views’ protocol. I’m guessing the char log rule comes into effect when the odds are stacked against you.
Anyways, I thought it was better to voice out my strategy. I had simple reasons to go for it. It felt cool. Yeah, I’m a grown up and I do have a plan of action for life. It also meant that I could remind myself over what is it that I was expecting.
The first few photos that came , I generously shared with my friends. Now that I think about it, it does seem like some kind of a massive wrongful immoral breach of trust and what not! Big deal. I couldn’t care less. I bet others would do that too. Fortunately, I do have a very very flexible moral compass.
Like all men, we started trolling the pictures at first. I was too busy having fun to even realize that petty pointlessness to them. Not my style, This is not how I’d want to see myself, There is something wrong here, I have a bad feeling about this!!! The phrases were plenty and the excuses abundant. Yeah, felt like I was beginning to discover that I had a serious commitment issue.
Not all of it was trollville. I did like a few. Life happened and rejection reached mach-25 speed ranges. What can I say, the whole deal felt frustrating at best. In time, I stopped sharing the pictures and I started restricting the opinions that I’d indulge.
The deep suppressed questions started popping up. Is this what I am? Is this all that I’d ever make. When you face a rejection, when the things you like are beyond your reach, in short when your grapes are as sour as sour can be, the first immediate conclusion is that ‘There is something wrong with you’. I’m not an exception to the way of life. I started blaming myself for a while. I quickly got over that. I blamed my choices and lifestyle for a while. The huge barrage of what ifs , if onlys later, the misery that built up in my mind and heart wouldn’t relent. Big mistake!
With all the gyan and so called near awakening of sorts, I realized that blaming myself was probably not the right way to go about it. I collected my thoughts and zoned-in on the expectations that I carried in my mind. My expectations were part peer pressure, part wanna be cool, part desires and dreams and whole lot of nonsense that anybody could refute as senseless and impractical. That’s precisely how expectations can ruin lives. I was living that destruction.
So i did the smart thing. I lowered my expectations. Rejections still flew left right and center. As I lowered my expectations, my ability to spot blemishes and things not worth the damn while also spiked. All details , no matter how tiny, seem to get magnified. I guess by calling out that I had lowered my expectations also implicitly raised the bar that I subconsciously set. By this point, I had decided to cut my friends off from the decision making process. Peer pressure was building up and my friends started pestering me to settle down.
All well wishing aside, I think I had started growing paranoid about how disinterested my friends had grown towards the whole exercise and they were just tired over it. All they wanted was to see an end to it. The friendly banter now evolved to serious discussions over choices. A lot of nit picking and strained friendship later, I started seeing the merit to start owning up decisions all by myself again. Nobody’s opinions mattered. It was my life and as long as I was happy, nothing else would have to matter.
Ah ditch it , I cried out loud. And done deal.
Oh yeah, we ain’t talking about brides here!!!! We are talking about renting houses in London. Wish I drew 6 figure salary each month!!!!! i still do draw 6 figures, just decimal places thrown into that mix. Makes an ocean of a bloody difference!
Not that you thought this was about now was it? But eerily similar isn’t it 😛