The Girl I Loved – Part 1

This is a work of fiction.

I clearly remember the first time I met Jennie. Right now…it feels like a dream because it happened many years ago but it was real. At least I thought it was. We barely spoke but I couldn’t help feeling like I knew her from before. Plus she had beautiful, long blonde hair which amplified her beauty and I was a sucker for women who liked to take care of themselves.

I’d asked my friend Sherrie to set me up with someone and surprisingly enough – Jennie was available. Anyway Jennie had no clue about the set up…I decided to keep it to myself since I was in the process of getting over a nasty break up. Plus I was in town for a few weeks and it wasn’t enough to sustain a new relationship.

Man…I guess you could say I was full of excuses.

I pursued her doggedly – grabbing whatever opportunity I could get to spend time with her. . . taking her for bike rides, picnics at the beach and drinking wine at her favorite places.

We met a couple of time and nothing happened. Or rather, I didn’t really push her too much…I was happy meeting her and hanging out with her whenever we could…I didn’t make a move because I felt she was out of my league…or maybe I was scared to be vulnerable.

Manly men like me are conditioned to be gruff and tough. I wanted to show her more of me…what lay inside my heart but I guess I didn’t know how to do it.

Till something happened. Imagine my surprise when one day while saying good bye after a particularly nice date she demanded – literally demanded that I should kiss her.

That kiss changed everything. It was one of the most memorable nights of my life.

Till I fucked up.

To be continued…..

Before the beat drops

This is a work of fiction…

I was in the process of getting ready.

Ready for what, you may ask.

Ready to kill.


I am not a killer. Or maybe I am. That’s what all my jilted lovers said, anyway.

I sprayed on my perfume – my signature scent. If this didn’t make anyone go nuts – nothing would. It was a feminine scent with a hint of mystery and freshness. I wasn’t one of those women who was going to pretend to be above all of this. I liked pretty things. So what?

I inspected myself with a critical eye and smiled.

Time to kill.

I have a question for you….why do you think people go to bars? Pubs? Discos? Or ‘lounges’ which are bars but we like to call them by some other name to um appear to be cool or whatever it is that we like to do to show off.

I believe it is for a variety of reasons. For example – I could always spot the stressed out, married males on Friday nights. They’d have that weary look that only people who hate their jobs and their wives have. They came to zone out. 

And then there would be a gaggle of girls who would most probably be giggling away, ordering cheap cocktails in their itsy bitsy dresses. College kids, pretending to have a girls night out while most of them were secretly hoping for some cute guy to approach them. 

There would be an assortment of some middle aged people too at times – who would look like complete misfits with their bellies and double chins. All a part of the eco – system. They came to feel young and let their hair down before going back to the grind of grocery shopping and dropping their kids to school.

There would be the lone wolves – who would basically look super creepy and were potential sexual offenders.

And then the stags…they would be there in pairs…or groups of 2…3 or more. You could always spot the alpha in the group. He’d be the one who would be looking my way. 

But it didn’t matter. I went there for the music and the music alone. Anyone who wanted to talk to me would have a pretty tough time for I would have lost interest by the time the beat dropped.

Music was my escape…and dancing with a bunch of strangers in a room (and my room mate Naina) just made me feel like I was a part of a tribe but I wasn’t. I could do this alone, in my room…I didn’t need to smoke weed or drink a dozen shots to get high. Music was my drug…

You get me, don’t you?


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I am also recommending stuff that I like so if you are into fiction try out this book by Erin Morgenstern. It is for those who love fantasy with a little bit of romance thrown it! Cheers – let me know what you think!

Malady – Part 3

For Part 1 – Click Here.

For Part 2 – Click Here.

The last couple of weeks had been awful.

I’d been on dates with 3 different men. All of them were nice and sweet and not afraid of being vulnerable and….hey…they were not like you.

That was good, right? RIGHT?

I’d gone for my dance lesson today. Have you ever tried to learn how to waltz? I was always an old soul, a lover of things from the past…there was something in me that loved this particular dance form…the feeling of being relaxed and at ease…not the awful twerking stuff that was trending these days…

My partner, till today, was an old gentleman in his 70’ he wasn’t there and this guy called Andy took his place…time flew by and I didn’t even realize what was happening till I found both of us breathing heavily, staring into each other’s eyes once the music faded away.

Then I saw this peculiar light in Andy’s eyes and I felt a little uneasy. I knew that light. He liked me. He offered to walk me home, but I declined. He hid his disappointment well and said he hoped to see me next week.

I walked home in a daze and opened my cupboard. There it was hanging, the beautiful black dress that I had brought to celebrate our anniversary. I took it out and tried it on.

To my dismay I didn’t like it anymore. It fit well, the black color made my pale skin almost shine – just the way you liked it.

But I no longer liked it. I could smell Andy’s perfume on me. I liked that.

And as tears streamed down my face I realized that I no longer liked you. That scared me. I’d been so engrossed in missing you that I didn’t know what to do when I was finally done doing it. It sucked because it meant it was truly over.

I removed the dress and threw it in the trash can.

I couldn’t believe it, but I was over this malady.



Malady – Part 2

For Part 1 – Click here

I have to say, don’t ever love so intensely or so deeply that it consumes you. If it is consuming you, it is probably BAD for you. Let me spell it out again – B.A.D.

My friends envied me when they saw him. And us.

Apparently the sparks were so strong you could see them from a mile off.

You know how that feeling is like, right?

We could be in a room full of people and whenever our eyes would meet, for that one brief second it was as if we were alone. Yes, it sounds silly but trust me – it was exactly like this.

I had to forcefully tear my gaze off you. I had to stop being jealous of everyone you spoke to or smiled at.

We’d sneak away and exchange kisses in a corner where we thought no one was watching and giggle, like two naughty teenagers. You’d deliberately slather me with red wine and laugh when my cheeks would turn red with all the excitement.

To my horror, I realized I was smiling at all of these memories.

I’d promised myself that I would not think about it but the brain is a funny organ. A sadist. It will never do what it promises to. So every day, for a couple of minutes I would allow myself to reminisce and then, for the rest of the day I would be on auto – pilot – keeping myself super busy and occupied.

But what had taken a hit most of all was my self esteem. You know what I mean. There you are – happy and content. Not looking for anyone and anything.


Someone comes in your life, leaves a mess behind and makes you wonder –

‘What did I lack? Wasn’t I pretty enough? Was I boring? Was I not successful enough?’

And the worst of all: ‘Didn’t I deserve the respect of being offered an explanation?’

But I knew, deep inside that time…..a lot of time would be the best cure for this malady. Only, it wasn’t working.

To be continued…………..




Malady – Part 1

Disclaimers first – this is a work of fiction.



I lay in my bed for a long, long time.

I did not know the difference between day and night.

My eyes would open when they were tired of being shut.

And they shut when they hurt from all the crying.

I heard the sound of a siren and jumped out of my skin. I rushed from my bed to the window, my heart hoping it was you. It had to be. HAD TO BE.

The police car whizzed by in a blur, just the way you did.

You are beautiful….I can’t believe this.’

I could remember that night so clearly, the night when I realized that I was gone. Gone – man – GONE!

You ran your hands through my hair and kissed me, murmuring sweet nothings into my ear. My flimsy satin dress was flying up and there I was, holding on to it with both hands to keep it down while you devoured my lips like a hungry beast.

I was sitting on the edge of the window of your hotel’s balcony – we were so high up that I could barely see the ground. I should have been scared but I wasn’t.

No, with you I could be wild, impulsive and free.

You sat down next to me and we kissed for what felt like hours, your hands holding me tight. Your big, manly hands which made me feel so safe.

I could feel my heart racing, so could you…for you placed your hand on my chest and laughed mockingly at how fast it was pounding.

We looked into each other’s eyes…a rare intimate moment…the intensity was so sizzling I couldn’t bear it.

I traced my fingers around your jawline…around your scar which you proudly claimed was won during a nasty knife fight with a felon. You thought it was ugly but I loved it. I loved that smile that you had but it made me feel afraid. It was a smile of victory for you knew you’d conquered me and it scared the shit out of me.

But you had managed to break through all my walls…and the feeling of being so vulnerable made me giddy.

When I felt your lips on my neck I knew I was in trouble.

Trouble all right.

I shook my head, forcibly stopping myself from reminiscing.

I wish now, I could find a way to fight this malady…


To be continued……………







The Other Woman – Part 3

For Part 1 – Click Here

For Part 2 – Click here

It started off with her snooping around my Instagram feed. Yeah, I wasn’t dumb – I could figure out that she’d viewed a couple of my stories.

A part of me panicked, the other part wanted to warn him. And yet – another part felt smug about it.

Yeah, I stole your man. Well at least the part of him that wasn’t yours – that could never be yours because it was mine.

I know I sound crazy. But if you’ve ever loved two people at the same time you will understand what I mean.

Then to my horror, I saw her at this coffee shop one day out of the blue. I used to go there every weekend in the morning for my daily fix of cappuccino and there she was. I’d never seen her there before. The shop was at least 8 miles away from where she lived so I had a bad feeling about this. Luckily I spotted her right when I was entering the shop. I did a quick U turn and left.

I thought a lot and then I called his office from a pay phone.


‘It’s me.’

There was silence and then ‘Sadie. We agreed not to..’

I interrupted him. ‘She was at the coffee shop. She knows, doesn’t she?’

‘Let’s meet. 6 o’clock.’

I put the phone down and sighed. This was bad.

‘She doesn’t know much. She found your picture – asked me about it.’ He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept.

‘Picture?’ Didn’t we have a no photo policy?

‘Yeah, I know but I’d kept one of your photos…just a random one nothing shady   on my phone and she was snooping and she came across it. Asked me a ton of questions. I told her we were friends, we had met at a few social events a couple of years ago and that’s it.’

I asked him for the photo and sighed. He’d downloaded one from my Facebook where I was sitting in the same God – Damn coffee shop. Goodbye Jenna’s Coffee Shop – I’d have to find a new place.

He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t ever let anything happen to you. You are safe. Things between us are rocky and that’s why she’s getting paranoid.’

I looked at him. ‘Ted. Are there any others?’

He looked at me and then looked away, his face impassive. ‘Do you really want to know?’

That night we made love for the last time. He knew it. I knew it. We just didn’t acknowledge it.

I was a fool. In the end…to him, I was just another woman in his list of conquests. I didn’t need any answers. I knew him well enough and I’d had my doubts in the past. I was a fool to feel hurt about it.

My phone buzzed. It was my first text message from him since we’d started our affair.

‘You were special. You meant something. You weren’t just anybody for me. Maybe we will cross paths someday down the line. In a way I loved you. You were more than just the other woman, that’s what you like calling yourself. You are much more.’

I smiled a tearful smile and drove away.


The end.


The Other Woman – Part 2

For Part 1 – Click Here.

You know, you can’t love two people with all of your heart. It isn’t possible. You can give people a bit of your heart – just a little bit – enough to let them know you love them and you care but not enough that it would hurt or shatter you.

I guess being a mother is one of the few cases of unconditional love. Where you can love someone so much that it hurts.

But I wasn’t a mom. And nor was I going to be. I was separated from my soon to be ex – husband, both of us were too afraid to take the final step and make it official but for the last year, we’d met just twice and that too because he wanted some stuff that he had left behind.

And the other man in my life, well – I knew he loved me. Let’s call him Ted. In his own way. Without saying anything. He’d apparently fallen in love with me the first time he’d seen me on the flight. We were co – passengers. And the rest is history.

At first, it wasn’t difficult.

The affair.

It started off as a one time thing only but the spark was so strong that he kept on coming back to me. My lonely little heart, which craved for intimacy couldn’t refuse. He wasn’t married when we had met. He was now, but it didn’t change anything…we met…we hung out and talked about anything and everything…in his arms I felt liberated and free. Ecstasy.

Once in a while, he would accidentally let something slip about his wife. He would continue to talk, trying to ignore the silence that her name would bring about. It took everything in me not to cringe outwardly. Sometimes I would.

I don’t know why I got jealous. Or was I guilty? Maybe a bit of both. It was easier to pretend she didn’t exist. I knew it was stupid of me to feel this way but I did. I didn’t want him to think of her when he was with me. I wanted him to breathe in my scent, feel my skin, hear my whispers and dream about me…at least for those few hours.

Ah, I was…I am a fool.

I didn’t see a life with him. He wasn’t the type of man I could spend my life with forever. Our little arrangement suited me well.

But whenever he took her name…I knew, I was the other woman.


To be continued…..

The Other Woman – Part 1

This is a work of fiction.


I woke up alone in bed. Again.

For being such a light sleeper I wondered and resentfully applauded his ability to sneak away without a sound. Two years of sneaking around in motel rooms and the back seat of his van. Two years! I did the math. We met once every three months for a couple of days. . . so yes, our affair was a solid one.


That word should have left a sour taste in my mouth but it didn’t.

I should feel guilty but I didn’t. I never believed in what society thought relationships should be like anyway. Human beings weren’t wired to be with only one person forever. They were just good at pretending that they were okay with it.


It wasn’t like I loved him or anything. It was more like a craving. You know the feeling, when you go on a crash diet and suddenly smell pizza? Yeah, bye bye crash diet. That’s how I felt when I thought about him. He was tastier than a piece of dessert at the most expensive restaurant in your city.  I was okay when he wasn’t around me. I never initiated any conversations or plans, I let him take the lead…because I didn’t want to let on how much I wanted him.


I put his pillow next to me and sighed. His scent was everywhere…on the pillow, the sheets, on me and my t-shirt.


I knew I should get up and get ready to go to work. But I couldn’t.

Today was different.

For the first time he’d slept over at my place…for the first time he had stayed till morning came. He’d left without saying goodbye but I didn’t mind. I knew it made it easier for both of us to walk away without getting emotional.

Otherwise we would feel tempted to cuddle and discuss any feelings that might be suppressed in our heads and hearts and that would be disastrous for our relationships.

I didn’t feel like getting up…so I decided to stay there for a bit.

In a long time…I decided to let myself think about him… about us and the time we’d spent together.

Because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was the other woman.

To be continued….

Lone Star – Part 3

For Part 1 – Click Here

For Part 2 – Click Here

So much for getting some action.

My flight was a two hours late and to my horror, my ex-bestie was on it.

I scratched my head, wondering how such misfortune could befall me. I’d moved to a pretty isolated part of the country, sure that such encounters could be avoided.

Damn the tourism industry!

She hadn’t spotted me. Maybe the cap and the shades helped.

But I knew her – even though it had been close to a decade that I had last seen her. She was also by herself.

Then I corrected myself. I saw two women walk up to her, the trio started chatting excitedly about something. So, she had made new friends.

Friends. If you could call them that. The person that I knew her to be was someone who couldn’t distinguish a friend from a foe. She always ended up making friends with the wrong people and then acted as if the world had ended. That was one of the reasons that I had decided to drift away. I was always the one trying to buck her up and make her see that the world wasn’t such a shitty place till I realized I was just a therapist and nothing else. She’d stopped spending time with me, citing her career took up all of her free time.

I wasn’t dumb. Let me give you a piece of advice. If someone is too busy for you – all the time and where it seems like interacting with you is just a chore for them on their to – do – list – do yourself a favor and walk away. You’ll thank me for it later.

I walked away too.

Back then, when I wasn’t in great control of my feelings I’d felt blue about it for a long time. Now, well I could look at this situation dispassionately. Did I feel nostalgic? Yes. I did. But I didn’t dwell on it. That’s will power and being mentally strong. I’m not bragging. I’m being honest.

Soon it was time to board the flight. I walked past her, she didn’t even realize I was there. I chuckled softly.

Somethings never change.

To be continued….


Lone Star – Part 2

For Part 1 – Click Here.

I woke up at around 11.

11 AM. Come on, I can’t sleep away the whole day!

Ever since I’d taken to the solitary life, I slept much better. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I didn’t have much to worry about. People complicate everything.

You don’t believe me?

Let’s say you got a new job. Or got promoted. You excitedly share this news with people you love. And guess what – half of them do not sound happy – even if they try really, really hard to. Because we live in a world where we compare our success, our happiness with that of others. It is a constant competition.

It happened with me all the time. I was…or rather still am an ambitious gal. Back in the day, I naively thought that people would feel happy to see me do well but I saw over time, some of my so called best friends look sad or indifferent or even envious. Every time I got a new job or I made a new boyfriend or the time when I bought my first house. Sigh!

Now – I didn’t have to worry about that.

My phone buzzed. Stella, my assistant had sent me my updated work calendar. Yes, I did have an assistant. Unfortunately I could not cut off all human contact. Stella was 30 years old and a hot mess. But she was a good assistant. Once a year, we had a nice ritual of going for a company retreat. Stella & I.

It would usually be one of those plush resorts which weren’t too crowded. I’d swim and work on my tan while Stella would get hammered and then cry about her current fiasco of a love life. It would have been quite entertaining, if it wasn’t so sad.

Also, she didn’t want my advice so I just listened and nodded. Every.Single.Year.

What did I do for a living? Well. I was a virtual life coach.

Sounds funny, right? But you won’t believe the amount of money that people are willing to pay to hear the things that they already know. Throw in some wisdom, make a plan, follow up with them…the job was a breeze. I loved to see people succeed.

Maybe because at this age, I had enough to retire. But I didn’t want to. At the age of 40, I had a house of my own. I had a back yard where I grew a lot of vegetables plus a couple of fruit trees. I had a small coop where I kept hens.

No, I did not have a cow. I wasn’t a farmer. But I liked doing whatever I could on my own. It kept me active, healthy and relaxed.

I had a gardener – Jean. Jean was 21 years old, with six pack abs and a glittering white smile. I know what you are thinking but stop right there. Jean was as gay as they come.

As for me, I’d given up on love. I’d had a couple of casual hook ups now and then because hey – I was human. That was usually when I had to fly out of town for work.

And today was one of those days. I smirked. Hey – birthday girl, birthday sex, right?

To be continued.