Friday, January 08, 2010

2009 ended on a terrace in Mumbai and 2010 began with CP dressed to the nines sitting with friends at a dirty dosa shop.

And then came Dubai.

The thing about falling in love when you’re on vacation is, at first you’re always wondering if it’s real, or if you’re just getting caught up in the moment.

But I am getting ahead of myself. I haven’t told you how we met.

After my first week in Dubai, I am ashamed to admit it, but I was getting home sick. I remember sitting at my cousin’s apartment, looking out to the sandy roundabout view watching cars, yearning for snow. Who in their right mind yearns for snow?

I had been seeing a lot, and meeting a ton of great people, yet there were little differences I longed to share with someone who understood what I was talking about. The little jokes you get from different accents and pronunciations. So when my cousin said that we were going out and a fellow Canadian was coming, I was happy for the company. Truth be told when I first met him, I didn’t swoon. But I loved his voice, and despite being the most un-sportiest person you will ever meet, I babbled on and on about the leafs. Pretty soon we were all knackered and he was flirting with me.

The next day he showed up after work with my cousin and wanted to take me to the beach.

We all know CP never refuses any invitation to the beach, it simply isn’t done.
So he took me to the Jumeriah Beach hotel for lunch and we talked for three hours . As it turns out, not only is he handsome and successful, but he’s a good man. The mythical creature you hear of friends, movies, books, but have never actually seen in person. After lunch we went for a walk on the beach, and then to tea at Paul’s, and then to a Spanish club Malecon.

By the time we got to Malecon I was staring into his chinky eyes, thinking, damn I’m in trouble.

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