Day 1: I am Bruce Willis. With more hair.

I met a boy! A man. It wasn’t love at first sight, but after 11 hours together, it was surely love.
Two tourists with nothing to do but see, we met early on a scorched Indian day and decided to tour Delhi together. Why not? What is so fun about seeing a Mughal tomb alone? It’s much better to marvel together at the shitting cows and the men simultaneously selling juice and spitting. Especially when your two cultures are so distinct. Then there are questions and answers to be had amongst gardens and palaces.

He: from an Indian village in Rajasthan.
I: from a little suburb of Chicago filled with hairy Italians and Greeks.
He: What is it like not living with your whole family?
I: How many times in one day does your mother go to the well to get water?
He: Do people really have sex before marriage there?
I: I’m supposed to eat this entirely with my hands?
He: Do your nightclubs have a couples-only policy too?
I: What is it that makes the cows so holy?
He: What if someone gets pregnant and they are not married?
I: What should I see while I’m in India, the most holy places?

My new man really took that last question seriously. And he took it upon himself to help me plan the most awe-inspiring route. He didn’t even mind coming with me to the travel agency to ask about trains.

“I want to build something this big for my wife one day,” he said as we sat near a picture of the Taj Mahal.

Oh! His innocence was so charming. It made me want to corrupt him ever so gently. At first I wasn’t attracted to him. But I loved his dark skin. His dark lips blended in with his face save for two pink islands swimming in the chocolate of his mouth.

We went to three government agencies and instead of information, they each tried to sell me expensive tours to Kashmir. But what made me most angry was that each agent ignored my new fiance outright.
I must be witnessing the caste system in action, I thought. How could they know his caste just by looking? We’ll show them. We’ll build the biggest house in the village WITH electricity and running water. Then we’ll see who ignores who.

Even though I refused to buy an expensive tour to Kashmir, we hired a car for the day and went together to explore the delicacies of Delhi. We sat in the shade near Ghandi’s ashes, and he asked me how many people I’d slept with.

“Just one,” I answered honestly.

Of course sex was his favorite topic since his culture frowns on partaking. He explained that most Indian men believe Western woman will have sex with anything at any time.

“Only sorority girls from USC,” I told him.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this in front of Ghandi,” he said.

Oh, he was funny. My mother would like him. The introduction would be a bit tricky, but me and my new beau– what was his name? Kumar. — me and Kumar would cross that bridge later. He invited me to his village, and after 11 hours together, we made plans to meet on a certain date close to Jaipur.

“I’ll email you,” he said.
“I thought you’d never seen a computer?”
“Well, I’ll have my friend do it.”
“Oh. Ok. Bye then. See you in Jaipur!”

He didn’t offer his mobile number. Hmmm…
I began to walk away. Then I turned to have one last glance, but he was gone. Ten steps over crushed plastic bottles and orange rinds and cigarette stubs, it all became so clear. I was suddenly Bruce Willis at the end of The Sixth Sense. I wasn’t dead, but I’d been had. Been cheated like an algebra test.

Here are the clues that had been apparent for 11 hours:

-A tourist, he just happened to know where all the travel agents were. COMMISSION

-Caste system. Shmaste system. The travel agents already knew him, so of course they didn’t introduce themselves.

-The breakfast and lunch at the same restaurant, the hiring of a car, the rides in the rickshaw… all COMMISSION.

-Virgin! HA! I’ve since gotten this line a billion times.

– “Oh no, you can’t take public buses. Indian men are so repressed like me. They will touch you. It’s much better to fly.” Or to buy the trips that my friends are trying to rip you off with!

– “Oh no, I don t mind spending time with you in these agencies. I don’t have anything else to do today.” Because you are working right now!

– I want to build something like the Taj Mahal for my wife one day! Why didn’t he just throw paneer at my face? (That’s Indian cheese.) What was I thinking?

Swindled on my first day. I thought 6 months of travel had prepared me for such professionals. But he was SO GOOD. Not good enough to get me to buy a trip to Kashmir though. Sucka! Thanks ‘Lonely Planet’ for advising not to book a Kashmiri guesthouse sight unseen!
At least I got to be in love for a few hours.

THOUGHTS: So this is the India everyone warned me about. SHIT! This is the India everyone warned me about.