Your Favourite Thing Is No Longer A Favourite!

“But the absolute worst was when people asked if I was okay. Because then I had to admit that it was real, it happened, and we weren't together anymore.” 

― Susane Colasanti

A week ago, I received a message from a girl who was grieving over her break-up. She asked me to write a post about her relationship. This post is definitely not about her relationship. This post is about the things which were once our favourite transform into not SO favourite things during/after a break-up. For instance, let us talk about sitcoms. Consider yourself lucky, if your ex doesn't watch sitcoms. (Yippee!) If he does, well, do not share your favourite sitcoms with him. Let me warn you, each time you watch that favourite episode of yours, you do not see Joey in it, no, you don't. In fact, you see your ex. So rule no. 1, never watch your favourite sitcoms with anyone. (Your ex as Joey is such a blasphemy, I tell you. I mean, it is Joey for Christ's sake.)

But let me tell you what's the worst thing-your favourite restaurants. I mean, how many of us have literally stopped going to our favourite restaurants after break-ups because they trigger all the old memories and makes us go...you know...damn, you know it. If you are a foodie and you love your favourite restaurant, don't share it with anyone because you wouldn't want to sit and sulk at the place which was once your favourite corner. Oh dear!

Sometimes, ice-creams helps you a lot to come out of terrible situations. Yes, a second serving helps you a lot more and an entire tub of it just solves all your problems. I know people are always telling us things that we don't want to hear, and we sort of stay in denial during these times. Who are we kidding, anyway? My girl friend (and she happens to be my 3 A.M. friend) tells me ice-cream therapy doesn't work. She tells me that her favourite flavour of ice-cream gives her panic attacks. I wish I could roll my eyes. I wish. But I couldn't for the fact that she would read this post. So she tells me how Oreo Peanut Butter ice cream was her favourite, and how she and her ex shared it almost everyday. (Well! Why don't I get to eat that shit everyday) And she tells me between sobs and hiccups that she is not able to forget him or eat her favourite flavour of ice-cream that she used to eat everyday. 

The woes just don't end here. My friend tells me that he regrets sharing his playlist with ex because it reminds him of her. I mean, seriously, every time, you fish out that iPod of yours, and listen to your favourite track by Coldplay, what happens? It simply drifts you into not so pleasant memories or like in my case, very pleasant memories because I never dared to share my playlist with anyone else. Isn't a playlist like a personal diary, duh? It is. Every bit. Never share it, okay?

Your favourite restaurants, songs, movies, sitcoms, food, and you get the drift, right? All these things are no longer your favourite. They remind you of things that are no longer yours. I know right. So, when you eventually lose a person anyway, why do you want to gamble with your favourite sitcoms, ice-cream or restaurants? Sometimes, it is nice to be selfish and keep your favourites to yourself instead of sharing them with your partners, because your favourite things should help you to come out of the trauma. Not increase your trauma.

Woes of the Pen! :-)

Name: Pen

Age: 15 refills

Problem: Injustice.

A certain pen appeals to the court seeking justice for himself and his fellow pens.

My Honour,

I am Pen. And I do not belong to the swanky categories of Parker or Pierre Cardin but how I wish I did; at least I could sleep on velvet in the night. I belong to the mediocre category of Montex and Cello.

I seek justice, Milord, for I have been ill treated and I need a peaceful life now.

Students use me all the time to write their truck loads of assignments, notes, and tests. Few mindless writers use me to write their not-so-sensible stories. *Sighs* 

I have been exploited very badly to write novels like “Pls kiss me. Or kill me”, “Will you marry me Cupid”, “When life tricked me...Love kicked me”. Milord, I’ve been invented to write sensible things, revolutionary things, but these junky kids are using me to write things that I have never written before. They are not just senseless but are also filled with typographical errors. How do I even cope up with this! Now that few people have dumped me for Miss Microsoft Word, I am finally able to find some time for my personal chores.

When great visionaries said, “Pen is mightier than the sword”, I was proud of myself, I invested my time in building a strong pen army and yes, we attacked the swords and achieved glory. That battle, Milord, is famously known as ‘The Battle of Penipat’.

Judge: My dear young pen-man, we can solve these issues amicably.

No, Milord, no, there are more to come. Celebrities like Justin Bieber, Selena Gomez write their dumb songs using me. This is sheer injustice, Milord. [The entire court understands the pain of the pen, and looks at him sympathetically.]

Forlorn lovers use me to write their dumb love letters, and I feel ashamed of their rejection. When I sleep and stop working for a while, students wake me up by scribbling their books with graffiti like senseless designs. Few house wives use me to open their oil tins, jam bottles, and cream tubes by inserting my nib into them. What is this, Milord, how would you feel if somebody puts your head into oil?

Bimbos use me to curl their hair. Whatever happened to rollers and curlers, Milord?

Few terrible teenagers open their chips packets by blasting them with my nib. [The jury nods in agreement.]

Whoever invented the concept of use and throw pens should be hanged. School kids use us and throw us out of the windows. And have you ever heard of pen fights, Milord? Were you ever made to fight with people of your own fraternity? Yesterday I had to hit my brother, break his head and ouch! It hit me so badly. My brother was in tears, Milord. Several times, I got my cap battered. How can you expect me to buy a new cap every time I fight, Milord? I am not a rich pen.

We are choking our guts out because of these glitter pens. We are being packed in pink, yellow, orange and are thrown into a bucket of sparkling glittery gooey mess! What are we? Some hoity-toity Vampires? I would rather stay in a dungeon and drink some ink to myself. *sniffs* I feel so terrible.

 Careless kids drop us on the floor at least ten times a day and break our heads. Loony kids drop us deliberately and dive under the bench in the pretext of picking me up and laugh on a joke like Comedy Circus judges. Even worse, Sidhu and Shekhar Suman laugh like they are going to die and throw me on the floor or hit the table with me.

And these days, to keep a track of me, some pen bandits are attaching meters on me. This is intrusion of privacy, Milord!

On these grounds, please grant me some justice, My Honour.

[The Court and the jury were more than happy to provide justice to the mighty pen fraternity.]

*Pen jives in joy*

Long Live, Pen!