36 Questions that Lead to Love: Set III
Adapted from the New York Times “The 36 Questions That Lead to Love”.
Some of the original questions have been changed
25. Share two truths and a lie with your potential partner.
Oooff…I suck at lying. I’m glad this is being read. You would be able to detect the lie in a heartbeat if you were looking at me. My face goes slack and my eyes bug out. I think I might even sweat a little bit.
Sorry, TMI TMI…
Anyways, happy guessing!
1. The Ass Grab that Stopped Traffic
I felt someone grab on to the back of my jeans and thought I was getting pick-pocketed. I shrieked like a banshee, loud enough to stop Mumbai traffic. Turned out my mom had slipped and had tried to keep balance by grabbing on to the thing in front of her — my ass pocket. I stood there gaping at her on the ground, and a homeless man had to ask her if she needed help getting up.
2. Booty Brain Death
I lost my balance while rock-climbing at a gym. The harness was all tangled and I went flying sideways while falling down to the ground diagonally. Unfortunately during my descent, I accidentally sat on a 10-year old kid’s head. I tried to avoid him to the best of my abilities, but the harness was tangled. I ended up sitting on his head and we both descended on down together.
3. Demon at the Dentist
I accidentally punched my dentist in the nose when he was filling a cavity. I wasn’t expecting the pain and I reacted on reflex. His nose bled rather furiously, and the blue surgical mask became crimson faster than I could have imagined. I tried to apologize but it sounded like demonic gargling with my mouth forcefully open and half numb. I sent him an apology email afterwards. He did not reply.
26. Complete this sentence: “I wish I had someone with whom I could share …”
Hmmm. This is a hard question.
The more I think about it, the more I realize I want.
I want a partner that I can share everything with. I want to share my goals… my dreams…my hopes.
I want to share ice-cream sundaes underneath a striped red umbrella and watch him accidentally get some chocolate on his nose.
I want to share avocado toast and chocolate-chip pancakes at my favorite brunch place. I’d feed him a bit off of my own fork.
I want to share my favorite Bollywood movies on a rainy Friday evening. I want to cuddle against him, my knees resting against his side and my head on his shoulder. And, when my favorite song from the movie plays, I want to pull him close to me and kiss him on the lips — a small thank you for bearing the theatrics of Bollywood for me.
I want to share my phobia of elevators and my terror of rodents. I want to share my love/hate relationship that I have with my mirror.
I want to share family dinners with palak paneer and butter chicken. I want to steal his samosa as my dad pours him some whiskey.
I want to share my headphones with him, and poke him playfully in the side for first dibs on music choice.
I want to share secret smiles and inside jokes. I want to share boisterous laughs and hushed whispers. I want to share secluded kisses and warm caresses.
I want to share tears and pain…screams and fights. I want to share shame and sorrow.
I think I’m too selfish to choose one thing to share. I want to share the whole me. All of me. And I want all of him too.
All of me and all of him — the two of us sharing the world together.
27. If your potential partner was going to become a close friend of yours, please share what would be important for him or her to know.
I hold a very special place in my heart for the friends who have made it to the innermost, best-friend tier. These are the friends that know my darkest secrets, my deepest fears, and my most traumatic memories. These are the friends who have seen me at my worst, but love me despite it all.
These are the friends that I love more than the world. The friends who hold bits and pieces of my soul. The ones I would go to the ends of the earth for.
These are the best friends who sometimes have an uncanny way of knowing me better than I know myself. They know the good, the bad, and the ugly. They know the little pleasures and the pet peeves. They’re proud of my fiercest strength. They’ll hold my hand when I have to battle my biggest weakness.
It’s this weakness that I want to talk to you about. My beloved, trusted inner-circle of confidantes all know this about me. I hope I do not scare you away. I hope you can join this inner tier.
There are times when I succumb to this weakness. No matter how hard I try to steer myself clear, this weakness follows me. It’s with me every step I take, every breath I breathe. It becomes suffocatingly overpowering. There are times when I just can’t control it…no matter how hard I try or wish it away.
It’s a monster…A cold-hearted, unforgiving, ruthless monster…
Have you ever had an anxiety attack?
It’s not pretty. I hope you never have to experience it.
When it hits, it feels like the world is starting to crumble around you. Breathable air becomes scarce and an awkward pressure starts building in your chest. First, the gasping hits, followed by tears accumulating in your eyes. Your visual realm goes blurry. And then…the spinning starts.
At this point, you can barely breathe, you can barely see, and the ground is spinning underneath you. You pray for it to stop. You try desperately to shove it down, to clutch on to your mindfulness techniques like empty straws.
Then comes the fall. I hate this part the most. It feels like my body has completely betrayed me.
You crash to the ground, silently begging for the attack to be over. You curl up sideways, your body now shuddering with sobs. The tears are now falling into your hair and rolling sideways off of your head. You feel your trembling frame quake from the tip of your fingers to the bottom of your toes. Your teeth begin to chatter, and your upper body begins rocking back and forth.
Unfortunately, the monster doesn’t stop there. While your body is being held captive in this trembling, terrified form, your mind starts working against you. The worst of the worse scenarios play on repeat in your head. Your most catastrophic nightmare replays time after time. You can’t escape the monster tearing at your mind with its razor sharp claws.
So you lay there petrified, the monster mercilessly ripping your mind apart. Your throat opens and closes on its own accord as you choke, desperate for oxygen. The sobs turn into pathetic wails. You beg. You plead. You offer your soul up in exchange for the attack to stop.
And then finally…finally, when it seems like all hope is lost, the monster starts to take a claw out. It happens slowly, one nail at a time. The convulsions slow down. The sobs gradually turn into whimpers. Oxygen finally flows back into your lungs and your vision slowly starts to clear up.
You lay on the ground for a few more minutes, taking in deep breaths, and being extra cognizant about your surroundings. Still focusing on your breathing, you gently try to pull yourself into a seated position. Your mind feels sluggish. Your body feels battered, trampled by a ten-wheeler.
You stare blankly ahead for a minute, while you curse yourself and the monster resting in your mind. Defeated, you bury your head in your knees in resignation.
Now, you must be wondering how this relates to my close friends. And, for all intents and purposes, maybe I read this question entirely wrong…but, let me explain. Hear me out, please.
I’m working on taming the monster. I’ve gotten pretty good at it, actually. It’s a loose leash, but I’m more in control now than I ever was in the past. I’m getting the help I need, and one day I know I will master the monster.
This question asked “if you were my close friend, what is something you should know?”
My close friends all know my monster. They know him really well.
They make fighting him so, so much easier.
They remind me of my breathing techniques. They catch me in their arms, stopping my fall. They hold me close to them, whispering words of kindness and calm.
When I feel like the world is crashing around me and I’m being suffocated by my own mind, my trusted confidantes hold me against them and tell me they love me.
They love me, despite the monster that resides in my head.
When I hide my head in my hands embarrassed at myself, they admonish me, though not unkindly. They never make me feel like my anxiety is disgraceful, even though I consider it a deep shame.
When I feel the monster start to wake, my best friends hold my hands. They guard my heart. They stand next to me, ready to take on the monster, ready to protect me.
The monster turns his ugly head. I shrink back for a second and then I feel someone squeeze my hand.
It’s one of the few first-tier companions.
“You’re not alone, Janhavi. I love you.”
28. Tell your potential partner what is your favorite type of kiss.
Tee hee.
*Insert “shy but not really” giggle here*
Hmmm…a favorite type of kiss? Is that really a thing?
I feel like there are different types of kisses for different times. There’s the quick peck when you leave for work or school in the morning. There’s the sloppy make-out session in the back of the Uber at 2:00 AM. There’s the deep kiss after a fight, salty tears lingering between both of your lips.
There are the little forehead kisses and the side-way smooches and the neck nibbles. There are the times when he takes your hands in his and kisses your fingers. You don’t want him to stop…so he continues gently grazing his lips along your forearm and up past your shoulder, taking his time on your collar-bone, until he finds that favorite spot on your nape.
How can you pick a favorite type of kiss when all the options are just so enticing?
Ughhh…
I guess if I had to pick, the first one that comes to mind is the “when did I jump?” kiss. I’m not sure if that’s the legitimate name of the kiss or whether such a thing even exists…but, anyways.
So, I was 19 years old, making out in my boyfriend at the time’s dorm room. We were giggling underneath the covers, my fingers tangled in his hair, when he paused for a second.
“Hehe, sorry babe, I gotta pee…” He’d looked somewhere between embarrassed and sheepish.
I’d laughed and said “duty calls,” as he sprang out of bed and hobbled to the bathroom.
Still giggling, I’d slid off the bed and made my way to his desk. I’m not sure why I went to the desk. Maybe my phone was charging and it had been too long since I last checked instagram. Maybe something on the desk caught my eye and I wanted to snoop. I’m not sure.
Either way, I remember standing at the desk, clad in comfy pajama shorts and a t-shirt bra, when my boyfriend came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, and started nuzzling the back of my neck.
The memory becomes a bit more vivid after that, hah…
The slow smile that slithered onto my face. The way I closed my eyes for a minute, allowing myself to focus solely on the spot on my neck he was now gently sucking on. The goosebumps that erupted on my arms. The sudden intake of breath when he lightly bit my collar-bone.
And then, in an almost frantic motion, I turned around, and my arms were in his hair, and his lips were on mine. And, in that moment, I felt like I was on top of the world.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t realize when I “jumped” into his arms. But, jump I did. I had apparently hopped up, wrapped my legs around his torso, as he gripped my upper thighs. We continued to kiss as he walked us over, back to the bed.
We collapsed on the covers, him on top of me. I paused for a second.
“That was really hot.”
“Mmhm…” he said as he continued to nuzzle my neck.
“When did I jump?!”
He just squeezed my ass in response.
29. Share with your potential partner an embarrassing moment in your life.
Ha. Haha. L-O-L.
Okay, sorry, I’m not trying to be obnoxious.
The truth is, there are way too many embarrassing moments. Where do I even start? The time when I puked on my friend’s sneakers? Or the time when my missing student I.D was found in a fraternity bathroom…
I know that sounds trashy as hell, but it’s not what you think, I promise! I’m nowhere near cool enough to have dirty, steamy, bathroom sex and leave my I.D behind like some earring. The actual story is much, much stupider…
Shameless humble-brag side-moment — posting a new series on Medium called “Besharmi Baatein” (Embarrassing Expositions), where you can read more about said embarrassing escapades!
So now that that shameless plug is out of the way, let me think about what embarrassing story I want to leave you with.
I guess I’ll leave you with my earliest memory of an embarrassing moment. It was in fifth grade and my friend, Ruchi, and I were performing a traditional Bharatnatyam dance in front of the whole school.
I’m not sure what you know about classical Indian dance accoutrements, but donning those beautiful outfits are an obstacle course in of themselves. There are intricate layers of fabric, multiple ornaments and pieces of jewelry, several hair accessories, a thick-layer of make-up, and a couple thousand safety and bobby pins.
Getting ready is somewhat of a mini-marathon. And, if one safety pin– or clip– or hair piece– is out of place, well…let’s just say a beautiful, graceful, twirling dancer may suddenly look like a spinning, category-5 hurricane.
Just incase you still don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m attaching a helpful photo here:
Now, I’d specifically like to pull your attention to the elegantly spread fabric fan between the dancer’s lower limbs. The fan is pinned or buttoned to responding hooks/clips on each of the pant legs. There are several other supports put in place to ensure that the outfit stays put.
Now, Ruchi and I were over-achieving fifth-graders performing at a mid-day show in front of the entire elementary school. No parents or adults were attending this showing, and it was up to me and Ruchi to dress ourselves.
We did a damn good job, if I say so myself.
Well, mostly…
You see, within the first minute of our performance starting…or maybe it was thirty seconds, I can’t be sure…my fan came promptly undone between my thighs.
I wish it had fallen off entirely. That would have been merciful, really.
But no…it came undone between my thighs, but stayed pinned in place on my legs. So now, I’m stuck in this weird-ass-beautiful fan-fabric-contraption. I have no idea how to move.
Ruchi takes one look at me, her mouth falling to the floor in shock. My music teacher (the director of this hell-show), is whisper-howling at me to get my shit together.
And here I am, frozen in place in front of the entire Elementary school, musical Sanskrit chants droning in the background.
I wish I could stop there. I wish I had just evaporated at that point.
But no…I turned to look at Ruchi, who had still had a mild look of horror on her face, but had begun our dance to the Sanskrit shlokas we were performing to.
And me…being the outrageous buffoon that I am…decided to try dancing in this undone, chaos of an outfit contraption.
Bharatnatyam has a series of different dance moves that you perform in a squat-like motion. It looks beautiful when performed properly. Especially when your outfit is pinned correctly and the fan flays gracefully like it’s supposed to.
But…if you are experiencing a horrendous wardrobe malfunction the way I was…and you try doing a mix of graceful squat-jumps in the death-contraption outfit hanging loose between your thighs…well, it looks odd as hell.
I will never forget the look of abhorrence on my music teacher’s face as I attempted to shuffle-squat and hobble-gallop around the stage. Her mouth had fallen to the ground in disgust. Her eyebrows were slits. Her face looked like a frozen demon-screech.
Unfortunately, after a minute or so of this drollery, I had no choice but to shamefully squat jump to the side of the stage and take a few seconds to pin my fan back in place. Mind you, this was still in front of the entire school, and the whole student-body saw as I put my outfit back together.
My music teacher was shaking her head in dismay. I think it’s a miracle she didn’t smack me afterwards.
I somehow managed to get through the performance, a humiliating dread dangling at the back of my neck.
The worst however was when I went back to class after the afternoon performance. I was sitting at my table, with four other classmates, all of whom were boys.
Tyler M. who had missed my performance because of a dentist’s appointment had respectfully asked if my dance went well. Before I could respond, mouthy Shane L. retorted, his voice shaking between snorts “Oh, it was fabulous…her skirt fell off.”
I remember wishing the ground would swallow me whole as the four boys fell off their chairs from laughing.
30. When did you last cry? What was it like?
I last cried in the sunroom, at home. It was a few days ago.
I try not to let certain words affect me. I know that sometimes words uttered by family are just a form of tough love. And, for the most part, I endure those stabbing words to the best of my ability. Sometimes, however, my resolve slips. The words hit deep. They hurt more because they come from the people I love most. I know that no one is trying to be malicious…but, maybe that’s another reason why the words hurt as much as they do. They hurt most because there is love and honesty behind them.
Those are the words that induce the tears. The words that I don’t want to admit to myself. The words that break my heart and my soul into fragments.
Salt water leaks from my eyelids, tears dangling off my eye-lashes. The sobs usually catch in my throat. I try to stay quiet because I don’t want anyone to hear me. My head is usually bent downwards, the tears cascading down my cheeks, some rolling onto my neck while others fall into my lap. I try to contain myself, but the gasps come on their own accord, and my shoulders start to shake in unison with the sobs.
It’s not a pretty sight.
Then, the weeping quiets down to hiccups. I wipe my eyes, blow my nose, pick myself up and try to go about my day the best I can.
31. Tell your potential partner something that’s an immediate turn-on.
Someone who is well-read and witty. Done. End of story.
I’ll be honest. I’m sapiosexual as hell. The best way to impress me is with words. Thoughtful words. An intelligent conversation. Something that transcends the basic, stodgy vernacular.
I’m not trying to be pretentious, I promise. It’s just that I’m highly attracted to clever, creative men. Men who know how to sing stories, contemplate current events, and make me think outside of the box. Men who challenge me. Men who make me exercise brain power. To put it in the most crude, inappropriate way — I have to be attracted to his mind before I can be attracted to his d*ck.
So, if there is a witty, well-read, well-spoken man…and for bonus points…if he can speak another language fluently and is culturally aware…
Well then, take me now, sir.
…
I guess it’s rather unfortunate I haven’t met anyone like this in a hot minute…
32. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?
Rape and sexual assault. Unfortunately, it’s ingrained in our culture, though modern movements have highlighted why such jokes are inappropriate. The amount of times I heard in high school, “Oh yeah, I freaking raped that test.”
It’s not okay. We have to do better.
33. If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?
I don’t think I have any such secrets or regrets. If I were to die, I just hope that the last words to my family and friends were words of love.
34. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?
Being the classical millennial that I am, I think my first thought would be choosing between my phone and/or laptop. The memories that are saved in these deliciously digital devices are priceless. I would want to hold on to them as long as I could.
35. Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?
This is a disgusting question and I will not choose. Just know that if there was a choice between myself and any of my immediate family members, I would die for any of them.
I refuse to answer this. Sorry.
36. Share a personal problem and ask your potential partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it.
Well, this is interesting. Heh.
So, let’s say you like a guy. You’re not sure if it’s something serious or just a casual crush. He infiltrates your thoughts without precedent. You find yourself smiling at his social media posts. You start noticing other things — things that you never noticed before. Like the way his voice goes up a few decibels when he laughs.
You tell him about your stories and he tells you about his. You laugh together. You wish each other well.
Despite the shared laughs, you’re confused.
He is a weird communicator. Sometimes he sends thoughtful messages. Sometimes he sends one word texts to your paragraphs. He responds haphazardly. He doesn’t really initiate.
Sometimes you think he lacks consideration. Not because he’s malicious…just oblivious. When chatting with him, he speaks passionately about his stories and his ventures. You listen attentively as he tells you about his dreams. However, when you share a hope of yours, you often find him distant… zoned-out.
You wonder if he only likes to listen to his own voice.
Your best-friend calls him a dumb-ass. She tells you that for some unknown reason you’ve hyped this idiot up in your head. You are illogically making this lackadaisical instagram friend your potential knight in shining sherwani.
You know your friend means well. However, one part of you can’t digest the fact that this guy just simply doesn’t know…
You’ve purposely played it “cool” — ignoring some of his messages. Not reaching out to him for days at a time. You’re trying to come across as nonchalant. You’re trying to play hard-to-get. You don’t give him a single hint that you might be into him.
Do you tell him? Or is it just a simple case of “he’s just not that into you” and you walk away forever?
