Monday, October 17, 2011

My Love Is Like ... Clay?

I get my eyebrows threaded at this great little hole in the wall place in Astoria on Broadway. I love it because the prices are cheap ($6), the women don't talk much, it always smells like incense (which reminds me of my father's man cave), and there's always some sort of Bollywood movie playing on repeat. As I closed my eyes and settled in for the threading, I started to reminisce on my previous obsession with Bollywood... it fell parallel to a man I was dating at the time.

We met at a Central Park picnic. I slipped in mud and he cleaned my foot with ice. That's when I knew he was putty in my hands. He showed up at my birthday party a few weeks later and we were inseparable from then on. On my favorite date with him, we ended up at a gorgeous UES restaurant where he ordered everything for me (something some women hate but I happen to love). Several of the items were more traditional, and not on the more America-friendly menu. It was at that point that I fell in love with his culture and thought of myself as an "insider". My Netflix queue held a disproportionate amount of Bollywood movies, I cooked Bhindi Masala and Baingan Bharta like it was part of me, and when I went out to dinner, I ordered off the menu like I knew what I was talking about. He introduced me to the smooth sounds of The Gotan Project, a quirky Parisian electro/nuevo-tango group.


In 2005 I studied abroad in London and met the former love of my life, referred to on the blog as Old Flame. He introduced me to the real London, he showed me the joys of the outer city and the underbelly of Harrod's (he was a pastry chef there) and as we dated, I felt myself growing. It might have just been me getting fat because he was a pastry chef and was always feeding me treats. It also might have been my heart exploding, which was an unfamiliar feeling at the time (also known as "falling in love"). Regardless, I was hooked and as a result, I started to mold myself to him. While in London I started baking uncontrollably. I ran around the Harrod's food halls like I owned the place, and I toyed with the idea of permanently to the UK daily. Because of his Parisian roots, I vowed to learn French - I even took adult language classes at night after school when I returned to the states.. He introduced me to Cornielle, a French R&B crooner with family in Germany, Rwanda and Canada.

I mean, the examples could go on, and on, and on. The more I got to thinking about it, the more curious I became about how I change as I date. Thinking about this on Sunday afternoon, I took to my iTunes and ran through my music. Unchecked song after unchecked song brought back memories of a lover, an ex-boyfriend, or a situation that ended in tears. I realized that my iTunes steadily reflects exactly who I've dated. The timestamp of their download date highlights when we were together, and the missing check is an easy indication of their departure.

Being a music head, my initial thoughts were sadness towards all of the wasted music. You're supposed to grow and change, and your realities are supposed to be expanded when you date someone. But the more I reflected I couldn't help but wonder... how much is too much?

1 comment:

  1. This is such a good post! I've had the same BF for the longest time, so it's hard for me to even compare who I was before him and who I am now. But I know he has definitely influenced my itunes collection!



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