Do you smell that? 

It’s the smell of 2009 (along with the smell of meat-sweats I’m giving off,  in these times of eating more and showering less…don’t judge).

2009 means something else as well; it’s time to say goodbye to the “Year of the Chick”…it’s time to watch it burn.

No wait, I’m not really going to burn this blog.  On the contrary, I think I’ll keep the link alive.  And really, how could I not?  When so many people rely on this site for their creepy Google searches? (”three-boobed chicks” would be a personal favourite)

But life moves on and the earth keeps spinning, so here is my new address:

Romi:  http://romimoondi.wordpress.com

You can see for yourself what’s it all about, but let’s just say that if you didn’t know me then, you will definitely know me now…

…So thanks for your visits in 2008, and I hope you’ll come along for the brand new ride…

Today we end the chapter called the “Year of the Chick”.

So did the year turn out as I had hoped?

Well, let’s see…

…I gave myself a year to find man.  Once I had him hooked, I would vault my way past arranged-marriage pressure…right?

Not exactly.

What I’ve realized now is that finding a man is only the beginning, and even though I’ve come that far, I don’t exactly see a prince.  What I do see before me is a screen full of bits, bytes, jpegs and smileys. 

Mix it all up, and you have yourself a ”cyber dream man”.  Maybe it wasn’t what Disney had in mind, but holy hell I have fallen fast.

As for the tricky matter of the parents, I won’t mince words: I’m screwed.  I guess I saw it coming, ’cause even when you find a man, you can’t tell your folks until he’s ready to buy you for a dozen cows.  I’m not really sure if my Internet man has a dozen cows, nor am I sure if he’ll offer them up for a lifetime of Romi “ass”.  If that’s not expensive enough, he’ll have to pay a surcharge of a dozen goats (penalty for being a white guy).  Meanwhile the “parental-approved” bachelors keep piling up…

…So there’s a lot that hangs in the air, and it always will…until I meet the cyber guy for real (or until I’m drugged and wed to someone else).

And when we do eventually meet, I wonder what he’ll think.  I wonder if he’ll run at the very first sign of my bedtime drool (sorry, it’s a problem).  Or perhaps he’ll find it odd that I sound like a valley-girl (moreso than I do on the phone), even though I’m wayyyy super-smart.

All these things, all this excitement…all these reasons to projectile vomit.

If there’s one thing I finally know, it’s that the image in my head of  a knight in shining armour (like the one who rescues damsels on his big white horse),  is at last officially shattered…

…and I couldn’t be happier.

On a final note, 2009 will NOT be the “Year of Cyber-Love”, or anything similar to that.  I know I’d have a lot to tell, but I really need to woo him in private now (surely you understand). 

As for my blogging ways, I’ll be back in a couple of weeks, but with something a little different. 

Until then, this tired chick needs a little “R & R” (but please end the year with a bang on my behalf (and yes that pun was intended)).

PS:  To everyone who’s joined me on this horny, idealized, pathetic, and amusing ride…thanks.  Thanks for your advice, your opinions, your laughs, and even for your quiet reading.  Wow…now I’ve just puked on my laptop from being so cheesy (does anyone have a cloth and some disinfectant?…)

There’s been mentions, there’s been hints, and there’s even been a confession: I like a “cyber guy”!

Through it all I’ve kept the details scarce…which brings me to some reader questions:

-Who is this guy?  Where’s he from?  What does he look like?

With all the identity fraud that floats around in cyberspace, it seems like the time to prove that he’s an actual guy (especially since I’ve been known to exaggerate (i.e replacing human encounters with trolls…but no, that was really a troll)).

Okay then; cue his picture, name, and country of residence:

…oh wait, I’m not going to do that.

I mean yes it was me who started this blog, pouring out the details of a desperate man-hunt (in that “too much information” kind of way).  But the “cyber guy”?  He didn’t sign up for any of this; he didn’t sign up to have his face all over the Internet.

And that’s why I’ll keep his identity safe (unless he decides to emerge on his own).  Whether or not that makes me a fraud, I will leave the decision to you.

Before I “wet blanket’ this post any more, there is a little something I can tell you.  It’s the “special ingredient” in the KFC…it’s the “X-factor” in American Idol…it’s the “magic” in the bra that turns my ”mini boobs” into juicy ones.

It’s all the stuff that’s amazing.

So here you are, here is the “cyber guy”…

…He’s working on a really cool dream (even though he’s working 9-5 for a very demanding company).  Sometimes he’ll spend an entire weekend working on his dream.  Sometimes he’ll even skip a shower just to get things done (in the “no shower” times, I am glad that he’s a few thousand miles away (is that bitchy?)).

He’s a super-fantastic runner.  He can marathon it up like nobody’s business.  It has something to do with a slow heart-beat and a giant heart (and no he’s not making it up!)….It’s funny how it works, since I have the heart of an overweight grandpa monkey.  When I run for longer than five or six minutes, I am likely to puke on the side of the road.  So fine, maybe we won’t ever run together (or maybe we will so he can point and laugh).

He is so funny, that he can fire off jokes with the velocity of Superman on “super crack”.  I always need my A-game with him…and I like that.  He also endorses my weirdo-humour, like the kind where I make fun of random things and random people.  He’s actually pretty good at ”random” too, so much so that I strongly believe we could sit on a bench and ridicule folks for hours (ahh…one of my favourite things).

He is so serious, that when the world goes wrong, he is always there to ask how it could be improved (and he is very good at living the answers).  It’s the sort of thing that helps me see the world from a wider view, and that’s how people change for the better.  His values are so strong, that he will never back down for the hollow excuse of avoiding confrontation.  I respect that.

He is so cute, that he says we’ll build a fort in front of the TV, so we can watch DVD’s all day…we already have a movie list (I made him put “Bridget Jones’s Diary” on that list…he was none too thrilled).

Oh, and here’s the bonus round:

-He is so…freakin’…hot

Last time I told you a secret…do you remember?

It was all about “the guy” who’s been on my mind, and the fact that he’s a “cyber-guy” (not to be confused with a “cyborg” from the Terminator movies…though I think he would be cooler as a ”cyborg”…well I’m sorry but he would be ).

Just to refresh your memory, ”cyber guy” is an actual dude, but to me he’s a dude that dwells within the thick and tangled branches of the Internet.

Anyway, back to the story of “You’ve Got Mail” (minus Meg Ryan before she got her lip injections, and minus Tom Hanks before he turned into a freak who slicks his hair back )….

…So I was laughing it up and living it up within the confines of my email inbox.  All the while I was watching a ticking clock, the one with my parents’ faces as the dial (”Are you ready to find a nice Indian boy?”).  And that’s how the year kind of went…up until a month ago.

 That’s when I recognized the “cyber guy” for the man he’d always been.  I was suddenly remembering things he’d done, but through a totally different looking glass…like the time that he messaged me for an entire day while I was stuck in bed with a crooked neck and nothing to do (how sweet)…or the time that he sent me every single song off a great CD (one slow attachment at a time), because he knew that I wanted it (aww…)…or maybe all the times that he’s been the one I’ve known for my entire life (how does he do that?)

And here’s a more current event: we talked on the phone.

The anticipation of waiting to hear his voice was incredible (in that vomiting kind of way).  By the time I heard his opening words, it was confirmed: he has a “sex god” voice.  If you’re wondering what that means, remember that he lives an ocean away…in other words he has a different accent (and did I mention he sounds like a sex god?).  As for the conversation, it certainly wasn’t awkward (phew).  No I would say it was effortless and awesome (I can barely wait to speak to him again)…

…So now that the secret’s out, and now that my heart is running away from my brain, I wonder where to go from here.  One thing’s for sure, I’ve been getting a lot more jealous.  Whether it’s the pictures of him smiling with a babe by his side, or the messages of female adulation from his “friends”, paranoia has become my new best friend.  The best I can do is know that we’re in each others lives for a reason…beyond that, there are no spoken rules.

So here we are, living two different lives on two different parts of the earth…what’s next?….Is it time to meet?

(oh, and did I mention he isn’t Indian?  So yeah, that might be a problem…(unless he dyes his hair and practices a  different accent…))

Remember “the guy”?

The one who’s sent me a few hundred emails?  The one who frustrates me but in a good way?  And the one I mentioned last time?

Well you’ve all had some interesting thoughts, the boldest of them being: “make a move!”

Making moves is the best!  But there’s a tiny little thing I didn’t mention:

-I haven’t met him yet

This is the part of the story where you all say “pffft!”, or “good luck!”, or “is she on crack?”

Or maybe you won’t even say that; maybe technology makes this a little less crazy.

And in case you were wondering, here’s a little detail on the story…

…I met this guy through the Internet about a year ago.  I wasn’t looking for him and he wasn’t looking for me (in other words I still don’t know if  ”Match.com” really works).  Instead you could describe it as two solitary rocks, who happened to collide in cyberspace.  

Common interests and a common sense of humour kept our contact afloat, a fact that was surprising to both of us.  As the light-hearted contact continued, I launched into the “Year of the Chick”, desperate to find a man.  As for “cyber guy”, he was a guaranteed source of “email fun”.  I mean of course there was some flirting there, but I never once thought that my heart was  in danger (do you smell that? It’s the scent of denial…).

As the months went on, our contact progressed.  I didn’t over-analyze the element of  “why”, but part of me started to wonder:  “Why am I writing him a page-long email to go with his morning coffee?  And why is he?”.  I’d never done that before, and I was also starting to like him…a lot.  And that’s when denial returned, with a heavier bitch-slap than ever before (bitch-slaps are always heavy when there’s thousands of miles and an ocean involved).

And so the “Year of the Chick” went on…When it came to “3D” chances, what I found was an assortment of freaks, jerks and boring office men.  To be honest, I’m not even sure if my heart was ever into the constant “searching”.  Not when my inner thoughts were so consumed with someone else (oooh…look at me and my 20/20 hindsight! Boy did I ever waste some time at those snooty bars…).

There’s still a little more to the story, like the part where I had so many questions (questions like:  are you married with eight kids?  Do you have a murderous past?  Are you banging seeing anyone else?).  Some of the answers weren’t that hard to find (i.e. social networks, 3rd party votes of confidence).  For others the answers got a little messy (and only with “trust” were they ever cleaned up).

I would love to wrap up the story now, so I can get to the current issues  (including my own insistence that I haven’t imagined it all).  But alas,  I’ve been informed that my Sunday is ruined.  Ruined because my dad has an awards-type dinner for his Real Estate Firm, and we all must attend.  But mostly ruined because ninety percent of the agents are Indian, and this dinner will be held at a banquet hall.  A familiar scene, and a familiar kind of matchmaking air…*sigh*.

So I’m off for a “double work-out”, to pre-empt the evening’s gluttony.

(more on the ”cyber guy” next time…)