We’re Just Not That Into You

It had been nine whole days since I’d heard from Hammad, and I am not ashamed to say I stared into my bathroom mirror and sang Nothing Compares To U a couple of times. I even cried a little for effect. It’s so easy being facetious about something that broke your heart, from a distance, isn’t it? I can almost sense the little Yasmin doll in my head telling me sweetly, ‘it’s about time.’ I’d add an eye-roll to that but Yasmin doesn’t roll her eyes, and doesn't let me either. Anyway.

I kept going over the events of the last couple of weeks in my head, and I’d talked about them enough to Danyal and Miraal to actually have established a timeline.

Friday
7p.m.: Hammad calls and asks if I’d like to get some coffee tomorrow.

Saturday: I walk on air, and for this endorsement, can Sajid and Zeeshan please send me one of Zeeshan’s hats, autographed?

Saturday
9:00 p.m.: Hammad is late, but no matter.
9:15 p.m.: Hallelujah, Hammad and our friend Sara have arrived to pick me up.
9:45 p.m.: Hammad can’t decide whether to get a latte or whatever.
10:45 p.m.: Hammad drops me home. I never hear from Hammad again.

I…What? I still.

What I’m trying to say is, I still don’t get it. I know Cosmo will have you believe that the male mind is an enigma and the female mind operates in accordance with what time of the month it is – yeah, so basically, according to Cosmo, at your most fertile, you tend to like very manly men, with square jaws and tufty ear hair. I read too much Cosmo for anybody’s good, but I do know the simplest recipe for a Cosmo, thanks to Cosmo. On the other hand, Cosmo doctors, I’d like to challenge your claim with the fact that I like boys who look and sound like Michael Cera all month round. Anyway, Hammad. He never called me back, which I take as a sign of the ultimate truth that has changed all of our lives so profoundly: He’s Just Not That Into Me.

On that ninth day, I hung out with Miraal who took a nap while I stared up into the ceiling of her sitting room. After all that timelining and rehashing, when the answer you end up with is what two SATC writers came up with, there’s nothing you can do but gawk into space and try not to think about your own lack of appeal as a human being.

‘You wanna go Butler’s?’ I ask Miraal. She nods. ‘Can we take your He’s Just Not That Into You and read it there?’ She nods. I think she just wishes I would do more than make her pick me up after work so I can stare at her parents’ walls dejectedly instead of mine.

Outside, it’s raining. I try to think of something apt to sing. Not Singin’ In The Rain, because I clearly am not, even though I am. You know what I mean. ‘I’m trying to sing Why Does It Always Rain On me but can’t remember the tune!’ I text Danyal. ‘You and everyone else in the city,’ he texts back. I contemplate telling him about my coffee and literature plans but decide against it. Danyal does too well with the ladies as is, he doesn’t need to know what we do when we’re bummed.

‘Cheaters never prosper, because they suck,’ I read out a few minutes later over my apple pie and some kind of nutty tart. I’m eating for two: myself and that giant ball of sadness now permanently alive in my throat. Miraal raises an eyebrow at me. ‘That’s technically not true,’ she says in a very logical tone of voice. ‘Yeah, look at Ali (which one you ask, too much work to get into that just now),’ I say. Ali has prospered since his cheating days straight into his own house at 29 with a wife and three dogs. He’s doin’ ok, and I don’t mind, but this means that some of the other stuff in this book is just a lot of shit too.

“If a guy truly likes you, but for personal reasons he needs to take things slow, he will let you know that immediately. He won't keep you guessing, because he'll want to make sure you don't get frustrated and go away,” - He’s Just Not That Into You.

This was one of my favourites, because it meant that if someone was into me, but had a debilitating life condition such as the runs, a first cousin-wife, raging alcoholism or questions about his sexuality, he would tell me to wait till he sorts it out and then we can take it from there and find out we don’t have enough in common, like a penis or a shared love for Hajmola candy or Call of Duty. Basically, how will you know if you don’t give it a shot, and if you really want to give someone a shot, you will ask them to hang on for a minute. And if they’re into you they'll wait. Only, I’ve heard other people say that love hits you like a truck, and if you get hit by a truck you don’t exactly lie plastered into the road texting the object of your affection: ‘I’ll be there, just let me peel myself off the highway.’ You don’t make people you like wait. You’ll make them wait with you though, like when Miraal comes over to hang out on weekends and I make her sit through our weekly family lunch. But all of this is besides the point, right? The bottomline is: he never called, and I’ll never know why.