Mi Vida

The Convenience Factor

It was a bad decision. I couldn’t sleep. The internet welcomed the virtual night stroll and by 4 a.m I was determined that I would die alone in a pool of my own vomit, preferably inside the bath tub. It might involved a broken hip.

So I tried to backpedal and thought that if I found a partner, I could avoid the unthinkable. He could have saved me from this horrible incident in the future.

And there goes my mission.

To find someone who would avoid all the humiliating circumstances if I go on to live my life as a single lady right now.

So I put an ad online. It was a simple one but I had comments like ‘it took a while for me to finish.’

You’re obviously not a reader. Strike 3, sir. Please not return to the pitch.

I had some replies. Amusing and interesting ones. Some just stupid, ignorant and arrogant but I entertained them all the same.

But here’s what I found out.

There are a lot of illegible men out there. Successful, brilliant and hardworking men. I can say some are good looking too (hey, you’re the one who synced your mail to your FB profile) but they are looking for one thing.

Convenience.

It’s funny that I have been ingrained to think the same thing. Most books and television series put forth endless plots for this part. Neighbors falling for each other. Colleagues. Childhood friends. Course-mates. In other words, The Other Half must be convenient. She either must be not demanding or not very brilliant. She must live nearby or at least a manageable distance. She must be pretty and have slender body or by a standard view o.k.

She/he must be somewhat shallowly convenient to accommodate the Searcher.

But what if convenience is just an illusion? What if the convenience factor you’re putting all your requirements are all your fears? You’re terrified that she’s so independent that she won’t be needing you. You’re scared that she can argue better than your half baked ideas. You can’t accept the fact that this Eid you will not be returning to visit your loved ones and family because its her family’s turn. You don’t want to break your brittle bones to carry her upstairs for a spontaneous romantic weekend. You want everyone to tell you that you’re not half as bad when you can shag a fine princess like that, that you’re not as ugly as you think you were.

You’re safe.

You might have conquered Mount Kilimanjaro but you shrugged at the thought of having a relationship with someone smarter.

Aww.

I almost pitied you.

What a shame. I thought men got balls.

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