Missing the Ex

I dreamt last night that I was back with the ex. Even on that rain drenched January morning, bustling about in a busy going about its business  house,I vividly remember the pleasure the dream gave me.The strangest part of the pleasure was that it was being felt  for all the reasons that had led to ex being dumped, viz reliability,comfort ,ease of functioning.... Any woman worth her salt will tell you that too many years spent with someone with the just mentioned qualities tend to get under one's skin. Ennui sets in  and one starts yearning for change.What does the said woman do in such a case? Dump,obviously.

Well, to cut a longish story short,I dumped. Cliches such as The only constant in life is change come in very handy as guilt suppressants and so,with a carefree mind, one made the transition  from then to now. And what a now!! Good looking would be an understatement of  the year . Add to the looks a certain rakishness - as in unpredictibility- alongwith moodiness and presto ! I had for myself a typical Georgette Heyer hero.

Life was smooth sailing for some time, as in the time that was spent in flaunting one's acquisition. One wallowed in the envious and covetous looks.But ,alas! to use another cliche-all that glitters is not gold, and the shine soon started wearing off. It is very difficult to continue being enamored of someone who just doesn't listen.So,when I touch the green , because that incoming call is important for me , nothing happens. Of course, one forgets all about the touching and one presses -hard. Result? The call gets cut! Wait. There is more.Here is the 9th call from the lady wanting to sell her chocolates and, after telling her very patiently eight times that I am not interested, I understandably do not want to take the call. So, I touch the red -and I get connected!

The other day I ventured into the ,till now ,unexplored territory of whatsapping.So,I compose this brilliantly witty message to a friend and press the sign for send . The message disappears. Not one to give up,I start the process again. The message is only half done when it mysteriously gets 'send'. The friend apparently spends all her time online and within a second I get,as a reply, a puzzled face. Red faced I furiously start punching a Sorry. I have only managed a sorr and hey, the recalcitrant phone seems to be having a mind of its own. It sends off the sorr but with two asteriks added so that my message looks like this: sorr**.

Nothing like this ever happened with the ex. It was silent when silence was needed , responded to the slightest of touch, had no hidden agenda; never displayed any moods, never embarrassed me by sending off asterik ridden messages...Oh my God- it was perfect. So what if it wasn't a smart phone- it was smart enough to know just what I wanted. And to think I gave it to the car cleaner as bakshish for finally giving the cars a wash!

Lesson learnt : that cliches are actually truisms run down by people who cannot bear the truth.
 The truth?
Old is Gold.