Breakup is a terrible thing to happen to humankind. In my seventeen years of singlehood, I’ve observed a multitude of breakups. Back in 2013, when our class had around a dozen couples and our classroom looked like a harem, I could easily imagine at least half of them growing together to get married. I mean there was so much love in those innocent eyes, so much strength in those tight clasps, so much honestness in those shy smiles that nobody with a heart could ever say it was all momentary and mortal.
I was single, but unlike all the singles in my class I was utterly jobless. Atif spent his schooldays memorising Social Science guidebook, Deepak utilised his time reading Bhagat Singh’s biography and Surendra solved trigonometric problems. Abhishek slashed his wrists a lot, so much that he ran out of space, so he switched to the other hand and later moved to the arms. And my dear friend, Prince Charming, was busy smooching the soul out of his four feet tall girlfriend.
I didn’t have anything productive to do. I wasn’t amid any groundbreaking research. I was thinking about Doctor, which was a totally pointless activity as in the last row, she was engrossed in amorous conversations with her dumbass boyfriend. I observed the couples a lot. They were so behaving like my parents – mature and caring and childish and fearless and romantic – that I could picture the report cards of their kids, and also calculate the marks each of them would fetch going by their parents’ intelligence and contemporary scores. I also pictured Doctor’s kid, and it made me all green and nauseatic. It would be a disgrace to humanity if she married him.
Anyway, school ended, and so did all the immortal relationships. None of those could stand against the sands of time.
My friends got ridiculous reasons for being dumped. One of the girls categorically stated to her boyfriend that she wanted to focus on studies and so she didn’t have time for a relationship. It was fine until she got a new boyfriend the next month. Another girl slammed her boyfriend with the accusation – you just love my body, not my soul. She never said anything about all those chocolates and mobile recharges she’d been showered with. Why does love have to be so parasitic in nature?
Many girls give this classic excuse – I’m leaving you because I care for your happiness. It’s an irony in itself. I don’t know how their brains work, but I’m really curious to figure that out.
The fun fact here is that all the boys in my class who had girlfriends were dumped by their girlfriends. I’d receive calls at 2 am and I’d have to bear with their sobbing and all. They wrote incoherent poems with a million grammatical blunders which I had to read and admire. They told me the same love stories again and again till my ears bled. They were shattered and their music playlist was full of Mukesh and Arijit. Their profile pictures would now be a heartbreak quote, or an absolute black. They would curse their girlfriends and wish their husbands had STDs.
I egged them on, because there was nothing else I could do. I mean you don’t punch a hornet’s nest. Plus, I believe heartbreak is important because it teaches you a lot. Not only about relationships, but about life. Like when Doctor went for that guy, I learnt that girls don’t calculate wisely. On a serious note, I learnt that you have to fucking catch the fish before it glides away. Or trap the bird before it flies. Okay, I don’t think these metaphors are quite graceful.
These days, getting into relationships is a lot more difficult. A 15 year old girl is easy to woo, a 19 year old girl gives you cerebral aneurysms. Then, friendzoning is their favourite hobby. Plus, their demands and expectations are high. It’s like catching goblin fish.
But on a positive note, you get laid after all. That’s enough for men, I guess.