So, what kind of a Man do you want

About Soul-mates and Dream boys  

Bollywood has spoilt our minds so much that we feel that every love story will have blue curtains flying, a group of girls and boys dancing to the beats and violins playing in the background. We felt that it would happen to us too. I used to think so too as a teenager... with the common thought that my soul mate with come on a white horse in the middle of the night. 
As you grow up and life starts to screw you (pardon my language), you get to realize that in practical, there are only horse races and you would really not be interested in jockeys. And, no matter how much the bet is scored at, your probability to win is thinner than losing. 

Anyway,  I was talking about soul mates. And my eccentric thought process coupled with my single status evokes questions like- what kind of person are you looking for and why such a long wait. 

I have changed many thoughts, theories and prayers until I realised how naive I had always been. 

Keeping aside the checkbox factors like- educated (preferably Lawyer), vegetarian (preferably non-eggetarian),  Indian (preferably my religion), I have come to the conclusion that a chosen partner is not a set of qualities. It is a package. And, you do get some rotten, raw, over ripen along with fresh mangoes in it.

And, I formed my own set of qualities for him...
Someone who is ready to watch TV with me while I am in my faded blue pyjamas. Someone from whom I dont have to hide the hole in my socks. 

Someone who knows that looking beautiful is not a function of my face, but his eyes.

Someone who can understand that I can have bad hair days. 
Someone who finds it fine if I wear an unwashed tshirt when I apply henna on my hair. 
Someone who wouldn't make an issue if I ate chocolate and sneaked in my bed without brushing my teeth.
Someone who can tolerate that I am confused as to what I really want and an support me without being judgmental about my personality.

If he can tolerate that I'd study hard and still fail. If he thinks that wrinkles are a part of my beauty. If he thinks that my sagging breasts and bloated tummy has nothing to do with the little childish twilight I possess in my eyes. If he thinks that leaving me alone would give me chance to miss him. 

If I can kiss him with unbrushed teeth. If I am not hesitant to wear my shorts with unwaxed legs with him. If my unbleached face doesn't scare him to death. If he can appreciate that white hair is an evidence of all the stories I have collected to share with him for the rest of the life. 

If he thinks he can play a referee between me and my brother's fight. If he can oil my hair and still hold a smelly me tightly throughout the night. 

If I dont have to bother what he sounds he might observe while I am inside the washroom.

If he finds it not offensive when I wear my behenji style spectacles over my mascara curled, blue eye-shadowed eyes with my short black dress. If he knows that I can burn the toast while I can make the best Biryani. 
Someone who promotes independence in my decisions in spite of knowing that I need him to open water bottles for me.

Someone who doesn't find it unusual if I talk for hours about my stupid stories and cry for nights for my blunders and abuse a man on the road with my filthiest Punjabi. 
Someone who can correct me with a stick and still be with me when I repeat mistakes.

Someone who knows that time will turn me in an old ugly grey woman with a stooped back and gas problem.