Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Random access memory

My best buddy needs to have a placard across his chest which reads “unlimited access.” Recently, he told me that his ex girlfriend, who dropped him rather unceremoniously a few years ago messaged him at wee hours, saying a chirpy hiii. Now, the thing about chirpy hiis is you never know where they are going. The thing also about random texts at wee hours is that they reek of ‘I have a hold on you.’ And more often than not, they are not innocent—there is always a hidden agenda, which is revealed in due course. And so it was.

The next thing he knew was that she needed to meet with him — she was feeling a “little messed up, and depressed” and the guy she was seeing didn’t turn out to be the guy who wanted to see her.
“Why do you allow her to have a hold on you?,” I asked him. Now, I am fiercely protective about my friends, so anything that alters their peace affects me. So I thought my concern was in order.
He looked stumped. “Huh!!! She just showed up on my facebook, so I added her to my friends. What could I have done?”
“Errr…. Ignored her?” I tell him. (They do have that option, I know)
“How can I do that? What will she think?”
(Holy crap! This is a slippery slope, I think….)
Call me old fashioned…but my boundaries are very clear — there is a reason why the ex is called the ex. But for the benefit of some super benevolent souls with closure issues out there, they should change it to axe. As in the verb.

But unsuspecting species like my aforementioned friend have “reach me anytime you need me” written all over them. Small wonder why they get messed with all the time by random exes.
So the next few months were a series of revelations of tell-tale ‘I don’t think I have closure’ signs on his part.
“She wants me to update her resume. She knows I am good at the stuff.”
“She can’t find a pet-sitter. And I still love her dog.”
“She is moving to Bombay, and needs my help. She doesn’t know anyone here.”
“She wants me to pick her up from the airport.”
“She wants me to drop her to the airport.”

There is this thing about airports. They are truly depressing places. Which means you really need to be into someone you are picking up or dropping — the whole thing takes a lot out of you. Definitely not to be wasted on a blast from the past, me thinks.
I listened patiently, as I know it was expected of me. But I knew he was beyond repair, so I let him be.
But it left me wondering. Why do men allow so much random access into their lives? I guess part of the reason is, they don’t have inbuilt filters. For men, all is innocent until proven guilty — and that can be a good thing and a bad thing. Women on the other hand are sharper about accessibility issues. If that makes us the bitches — well, so be it. Someone has to do the dirty work.

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