My sweet short love story!...

I haven’t had what you would call the most successful relationships, and never did experience a gist of cute love stories until this incident in my life.

Most of the guys I’ve fallen for have been unavailable, taken by a friend or taken by a friend and having an affair!

Makes for a nice short cute love story of comical errors, don’t you think?

But there have been some ‘awww…’ moments that should warm the cockles of any romantic’s heart.

No matter how much girls may protest, they’ve all fallen for at least one guy just for his looks.

If a girl says they like a good-looking guy because he’s got “personality”, “a good heart” or God forbid, “intellect”, then you know what she’s really after.

My cover was that he was a hotel management student and he, presumably, would cook for me. At least my mother wouldn’t have to despair of me never being able to get a decent meal once I was married. I can’t even boil an egg.

I knew this guy, Amit, from way back. Family friends and all that. The first time I met him, he wouldn’t even look at me, which I thought was strange, considering that I was what they call an early bloomer.

He seemed more interested in hanging out with my kid brother. Anyway, a few years went by, during which we had graduated from school. He went out of town to complete his hospitality management course and I mooched around the suburbs studying arts.

My mother met him at a dinner a couple of years later and came back raving about him. “You’ll never guess who’s blossomed into a wonderful young man, Sapna. Amit! He’s turned out to be not so bad-looking and he can carry on a conversation quite well,” she said. A year went by and I eventually met this “late bloomer” and wow! I didn’t care if he could carry on a conversation quite well.

This guy was hot! And as a bonus, he was funny, smart and had excellent conversation skills. Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite exhibit mine because I was so tongue-tied.

Another year went by and I got a call from Amit’s dad, inviting me to spend the weekend at their place. And Amit was even more good-looking than I remembered. Must have been the air in U.S. (Did I mention that he’d gone to study his masters there?) We went out with some friends of his, had a few laughs and a few drinks. On the way home, we just generally talked. He, about how he wanted to go and work in some big corporation I can’t pronounce right, and I, about how I didn’t know what I wanted to do. It was easy. I didn’t really have to think much about what I had to say next. I could even rib him a bit and he didn’t mind as long as he could rib me back.

As I got out of the car, he asked me for my number. “I’ll call you”, he said. But I knew better than to expect that he actually would.

He did call.

But then I was confused. He asked me out to dinner, but was it a date? Or did he feel guilt pangs over saying he’d call me even though he didn’t intend to? And then the inevitable question. Was it a pity date?

The day came. He even showed up early! As he opened the door, he asked me, “I hope you weren’t expecting flowers or anything.”

“Flowers? Oh no! Anything living that’s entrusted to my care dies.” It’s true. The several potted plants in my balcony devoid of plants are testament to this.

“Good,” he said as we got into the car, “Look in the back.”

I looked and thought, “Yikes!” Because sitting in the back seat was a bouquet of yellow flowers. “Hmmm… maybe this is a date after all,” I thought. And I was roused from this happy thought by Amit saying, “You’re sitting on something!” And there I was, sitting on five CDs that he had written for me. Things were indeed looking very date-like.

We were on the road and he asked if I would mind going to one of the gazillion lounges in the city. By then I was in demure-girl mode and responded appropriately, “Oh, I’m fine with anything.”

“And you don’t mind if someone else comes along? My friend’s sitting at home and has nothing to do tonight.”

“Oh sure,” I said, all the while thinking, “Flowers: check; gift: check; alone time: … Oh well, two out of three isn’t bad.”

We picked up his friend and got to the lounge. And we did the same thing, some more drinks and some more laughs. Then we went to one of the gazillion clubs. After a bit, we left the friend in one part of the club and stood in a corner near the dance floor.

And that’s when he told me that he had liked me for a long time. Ever since we had met for the first time. And how he wasn’t sure if I felt the same way. And that’s where my own cute love story unfolded