My friend recently told me that a guy that explicitly told her he did not want to a pursue a relationship, was her lobster. Yes, the analogy from Friends where Phoebe claims Rachel and Ross are lobsters because lobsters mate for life and hold hands until they die. In theory, my friend believed the guy was her soul mate. I had no idea what to tell her, I had never met the guy but he seemed like a good on paper, but bad everywhere else guy. So, I sent her the Amazon.com link to Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccilo’s, He’s Just Not That Into You.

No, I’m not a horrible friend who is sitting on her relationship pedestal telling singletons all over that they just aren’t good enough. I truly believe that the writers are onto at something. I own a copy that is proudly displayed next to Dostoyevsky and my Black’s Law Dictionary and I have read it about ten times: in the beginning, ends and very ends of relationships. Each time it has proven to be true that the guy only pulls the shit he does because he is simply just not that into me. After shedding a tear to the realization that not every man alive will fall in love with me, I’ve pulled myself together and moved on.

I have no regret in recommending the book to friends that are unhappy in relationships. The book is supportive but frank. It says everything that a friend or loved one is afraid to tell you - there are no excuses to why he acts the way he does – more importantly, you should not be making excuses for him.

Thumbing through the book after recommending it, I realized that it didn’t just apply to relationships, it really goes beyond relationships. We are all conditioned to work hard for everything in life - jobs, material possessions, etc - and when love or money or other things we want don't come to us, it's easier emotionally to justify or make excuses as to why we're not getting what we feel we deserve when. Whether it's the attention of a man or a promotion at work, the power of this book is that it tells you in no uncertain terms that you are the only one who will suffer if you continue to cling to something that wasn't meant to be.

After my first semester of law school, I found myself extremely unhappy with the realization that I would not work in “biglaw”. I too made excuses, but when I realized that I would be happier and better-suited working in a smaller firm, I felt liberated. For the first time in a long time, I realized that maybe biglaw was just not that into me and I was content with trying to figure out what was.

With the old adage “that there are plenty of fish in the sea”, I think my friend is searching for her new lobster and I, a midsized firm with an aquarium.

On my Ipod: “I’m So Into You” by Aaliyah

Today is Mardi Gras and the only people that seem to care are me and my Indo friend. When I asked around law school for what people were doing, the usual response was “what are you giving up for lent?” Which makes sense since I go to a Jesuit law school. When I asked my friends outside of law school, they replied “no celebrating on a work night”.

So why am I so worked up over today? I’ve come up with two theories – all half-baked. (1) For the whole Easter Season, today is the only day, I a non-Catholic can celebrate. Today is a non-religious-caste-no-bar “fun day” full of merriment and debauchery that all can participate in. (2) We have an excuse to eat that one extra cookie, dip into the candy basket a few more times and eat that huge Chinese “Orange Delight” without feeling guilty, after all it is Fat Tuesday.

Theory Number 2 probably works for every holiday – an excuse to indulge in things that on regular days would be taboo. Take Valentines Day last week – believers and non-believers, single and non-singles – all came together sending gifts through the mail or meeting up for dinner and drinks. No matter what your status was, it was a holiday and an excuse to buy a huge heart shaped box of cordial cherry chocolates or stop by the MAC store for another lipstick. So if you are wondering why I didn’t post on Valentines Day, it was because it was a holiday and I was too busy celebrating, just like today.

Merry Mardi Gras to all!

I'm grabbing some beads, eating a cookie and celebrating with my Indo friend.

On my Ipod: "I Luv me sum Mardi Gras" by Tha Nu Jaz Orda

I went home this past weekend to my parent’s house in the suburbs of Chicago. To those that don’t know me as a first generation Indian American, I spent the weekend eating lots of curry and alternatively watching Bollywood films – I loved every minute of it. Midway through the weekend I could hear my mother talking to her sister in New Jersey on the phone about three Indian weddings this summer made possible by shaadi.com (translated to marriage.com). I next found my mother in the den at the computer with a sheepish grin. When I went over by her, she was surfing shaadi.com like an expert. I had to make her promise she would never put up a profile for me with the threat that I would put up a profile for her (she was not amused). My mom was so intrigued by shaadi.com that all weekend she talked about the efficiency of bio-datas on the web and how great it was to rule out mass numbers of eligible men and women across the globe. When I asked her about having to “resort” to online matrimonials she quipped, “as long as you are happy, why do you care?”

I thought no more about it until I returned back to the city and spoke with a friend who was feeling down about watching “The Last Kiss”. This movie should have been rated SHG only – strong happy girls only. Bottom line, girls in relationships feel uneasy after the movie (I didn’t return my boyfriends phone calls for 2 days) and girls outside of relationships feel awful (like said friend).

Thinking back to my weekend and my mother’s preaching about the efficiency of online matchmaking, I spent the next 35 minutes convincing my friend to join match.com. Most of her hesitancy was the stigma surrounding meeting someone online. She became more comfortable with the idea when she browsed the website for 10 minutes and found three great on paper guys. She was even more at ease when I told her I knew normal attractive people that had met their current boyfriends and girlfriends online.

The more I convinced her, the more I realized that match.com was really not bad. What’s wrong with dating someone with the similar outlooks on life and interests without playing the guessing game for the first few months? The guessing game might have been fun thirty years ago when we weren’t leading such hectic lives - working thirteen-hour days and running from volunteer organization to dinner party to yoga class.

I hate to admit it, but maybe my mother was right - does it really matter where or how you meet someone as long as you are happy?



I’m contemplating if I can pass for “social drinker” and “casual smoker”.


On my ipod: “I’ve Got a Match" by They Might be Giants

My biggest accomplishment of 2006 was using minor information about ex-girlfriends I had picked up from my boyfriend and using this to stalk down their full names, aliases, photos, social networking profiles, newspaper articles etc. This was no easy task considering my boyfriend didn’t talk about them much and many are scattered around the country and world. Looking back now on the time and effort I spent searching and comparing these women to myself, I was edging on crazy. So when I read this article on love making one feel as though they are having a mental-health crisis – I can relate.

And it’s not just me, at some point I have had numerous girlfriends and even guy friends exhibit signs of craziness concerning their relationships. Last week, my most level-headed friend who had been feeling slightly neglected (hanky panky down from couple times a day to nil) by her boyfriend of a year and a half texted her boyfriend: "you have until the end of the week to give me sex or I will find it elsewhere." This is after weeks of subtly hinting to him that she was upset through text messages, conversations and facebook relationship status and wall posting changes. Through the course of the two weeks, I wondered why the girl who was not stressed after her first law school final, got so crazy? And I could sit here and go on and on with stories of friends making the most irrational decisions when it comes to the beginning stages of the significant other.

At this point, I myself was going crazy – the article explained my perplexities of pretty much any relationship I knew about, including my own. This is when I went and read through the article again and realized that the symptoms of the chemical imbalance was just a scientific term for “the honeymoon period.” In my opinion, the best part in the relationship cycle, the honeymoon period is when you still get butterflies, spend hours trying to understand one another and just darn right are “feeling intense romantic love, willing to take big risks, physical pain, obsessively thinking about a person and struggling to control your rage.”

I would give anything to feel that way everyday again and although I felt some pity for my friend while talking to her weeks ago, after reading this article, I really don’t. I’m no scientist but I think her “craziness” was just that she was actually really into her boyfriend.


If it’s crazy to be in love, then I don’t want to be sane.



On my Ipod: "Crazy for You" by Madonna

I've never understood why people would blog - why have every occurrence and thought in your daily life laid out for people you don't even know to critique? Believers say it's supposed to give freedom of speech from journalists back to the regular person. However, what regular person do you seriously know living a colored life worthy to waste your time reading every week? Plus, who has the time to add another thing to the 1209312 item long to-do list? Trying to answer these questions, I started creating a blog more out of curiosity than actually creating one myself.

Cursing myself during the last 2 hours that I spent trying to figure out exactly which shade of neon green to use - I've come to the conclusion that when you find yourself in your mid-20s, positively confused, trying to start a "career", becoming bitchy and borderline whiny - you have no choice but to start blogging.

I'm blogging.


On my Ipod: "Dear Diary" by Britney Spears