The Man Of My Dreams

The Man of My Dreams

I walked into the coffee shop, expecting to spot him right away. But then, real life isn’t movies, and the partly crowded café did not betray his identity. I looked around for a man, about thirty-five, average height, perhaps reading a book or solving a crossword. After months of online chatting and phone conversations, I was finally about to meet the man who had unknowingly swept me off my feet. All those months, I was waiting for the moment when he would invite me to meet him, and I would graciously accept the invitation. But it seemed that he wasn’t too interested to meet me. Just when I was about to lose hope, he had invited me over to this nice café, and I had accepted it without sounding too eager.

I had had friends who were married to people they’d met over the net. But it sounded just too fantastic to happen to me. Me, a small town girl who had come to Mumbai to earn her livelihood. I was lonely, even amidst the company of the friends I’d made. No one knew the true me, and I didn’t know anyone. I incidentally toyed with the idea to make net friends; people who you don’t know, but who you can share your thoughts without feeling too guilty about anything. No strings attached, that’s how I like it. After a few weeks into the chatting game, I suddenly saw this person enter the chat room I was in. Karan Mukherjee. Nice name. A conversation with him brought to light that that he was a businessman, an artiste, and held a few exhibitions to his name around once a year. I don’t know why, but every time I saw him come online, I would feel a certain adrenaline gush within me. Soon, chatting with him everyday became a kind of drug for me, something that gave me a high. Phone chats soon followed, and before I realized, I fell in love with him. Why, I don’t know. It was really weird on my part, to fall for a person who I hadn’t ever seen in my life, but only spoken to. But Karan was just so kind, understanding, gentle, polished, charismatic and so…masculine. Who wouldn’t fall for a person like that?
Back to the then present situation, I gave him a missed call on his cell, and I saw this man turning around to look at the entrance of the café. Without further ado, I walked over to him, and before I could say anything, he stood up and said, “You must be Riya. Karan here. Wonderful to be meeting you tonight.”

Hmm…the voice was certainly the same, but his personality was not quite like the one I had in mind. He wasn’t particularly handsome, not even good-looking for that matter, but there was certainly something about him. He had a fine physique, which betrayed his regular gym workouts. Enigmatic eyes; eyes that hid a well-kept secret. Well, he couldn’t be called drop-dead gorgeous; neither could he be called ugly. He was just striking.

But oh my! Talking to him face-to-face was a wonderful experience. Every moment I spent with him, I realized I loved him. He was intelligent, humorous, witty and so many other things. But mainly, he liked me too. He was the first person I had met, who didn’t flinch when I told him that I wasn’t a party animal. He was okay with the fact that I didn’t drink, smoke, go to disco theques and was a loner by choice. He thoroughly understood me and liked me for who I was. I was crazy about him. Meetings, candlelit dinners became characteristic of our relationship. Whenever he had to go on tours regarding business or other reasons, I felt lost. And I knew he did too. Why else would he call me umpteen times a day, even when he was abroad? He knew I missed him, and he missed me too.

One fine day, Karan came up to me and told me he had a surprise for me. He didn’t tell me what it was, but drove me to it. Like a child about to tell someone a big secret, he closed my eyes and gently led me into something which felt like an elevator, but he refused to tell me what the hype was about. My excitement mounted with every passing moment, and then, finally, when he moved his hand from over my eyes, I found myself standing outside a door bearing the nameplate, Riya Saigal. He eagerly opened the door and handed me the keys. “This is our new flat, darling. Let me show you around.” I was too surprised to even react to him. This was Karan, my Karan. Simple and straight-forward. Didn’t even think it was necessary to ask me whether I wanted to move in with him or not. Just took it for granted that I did, because he knew I did want to. He never needs to ask me what I thought about something, he somehow always knew before hand. That is what I loved about him the most. “Well, you’re going to live with me now, so you can stop living as a paying guest,” he firmly said. So then, that was that, I moved in with Karan. And life was never same for me again. The days he couldn't stay with me were nothing short of agony, but at least I was living in the same house as him. Looking at his very clothes or even his keys made me feel good. He had that kind of effect on me.
I love living with him. Karan is my friend, my confidante, my boyfriend, my lover, my support system, my guide and the best roommate ever! He is also a lot of fun. Today I can proudly say that no other woman must be as lucky as I am, to have found her true love over the internet.

Sigh. Even as I’m writing this, I deeply feel his absence, and I desperately await his return. At the moment, Karan is out of town. I miss him so much! This time he isn’t out for business purposes, though. But I’m okay with that. After all, he has to spend some time with his wife and children too!