Our relationship turned three today. One day I read about you and wished I had met you. Then later on that same day, when I finally got to meet you, it was love at first sight. And you have been with me ever since, through thick and thin. So why am I talking about our love affair like it has soured?

Well, you know our relationship HAS soured. No, it is not you, honey. No, darling, I am not breaking up with you with the the “It’s not you, It’s me!” speech. I am not breaking up with you, period. But something has gone wrong. I am sure.

It is not you and it is surely not me either. It is them. All of them. The whole world. Some of them must be dumb if they cannot figure out that our relationship is unique and one in a billion. They don’t seem to understand that just because there are more like me, they can’t have the same relationship that we have.

And everything is compounded when I realize that, before you happened, I never had to correct anyone. Come on, honey. Don’t you sulk. You surely knew I wasn’t exactly a virgin when we met. I know you knew because you could see my experience through my knowing touch. You knew that I probably had known many like you, before you. And you did not mind. For you knew that you were, are and will always be special.

When I based the foundation of our relationship on my name, I thought that your young age was a positive. I had never been in such a relationship, a relationship that made me stand out and feel special. My pride swelled when I heard my friends ask me about us.

But lately, the world has made me bitter. The time I spend in correcting their mistakes goes unappreciated. Very few people acknowledge their mistakes when I tell them. They just ignore me. And they make the same mistake every single time.

They want to show me pictures from traditional Indian baby showers. I patiently tell them that it is not me that they are looking for. And then they conveniently forget and tell me months later that they want me to see the baby’s pictures. Then later, they even invite me for a first birthday do. Soon the kid’s teachers send me notices about EHV (??) classes. And I patiently tell them again. And again. And again.

If that was not enough, job seekers send me resumes and job applications. Some send me EXE files “pasted” on Word documents named “newyear-gift”. I even get “back of the envelope” architectural plans. Commerce councils send me reminders for unpaid invoices totalling Rs. 10, 40,000. Random people have sent me scanned PAN cards (both sides) belonging to other other random people. Cell phone service providers send me cell phone bills with the account numbers, in PDF formats. One company even sent me account details for a DVD rental membership, complete with the account number and last four digits of the credit card used.

And in every case, I have been patient. You know, I am like that – patient, caring and considerate. I even heard that your vocabulary and knowledge of punctuation does not include the period. But I stuck with you in spite of that handicap and our relationship survived. But like the line from Kuruthipunal/Drohkaal goes – every man has his breaking point. I have had at least 46 occasions to reach that breaking point and I have survived each instance. But how long can this last? It is hurting us, baby. It is hurting our relationship.

So now, I am in confused. How am I going to make this world understand that the fact that one of their friends has a similar name does not automatically give them what I have had with you for exactly three years now, this email account – anantha [at] gmail [dot] com. How many “You have the wrong email address for your acquaintance. I am not the Anantha that you know.” emails should I send before I lose my sanity. Tell me Gmail, tell me!

This entry was posted on Sunday, April 1st, 2007 at 8:35 pm and is filed under E-mail, India, Life, Personal.