Introducing Indian Sitar player, but secretly a jazz pianist, but doesn’t want her parents to know, Kolor Deep.
I remember, there was this Indian girl in my math class that I liked, no wait she was Pakistani, close enough. Very pretty girl with big awesome eyes.
She knew about my art skills and asked if I can draw her. She gave me a picture and it took me several months to finish, because I had other projects going on.
We talked a lot in class and we were getting rather close, then she dropped the bomb on me. She told me she was already promised (arranged marriage) to some other Pakistani guy since she was two years old. That sucked big time, especially for me.
I eventually finished her pencil sketch drawing on a 11×14 bristol board, it came out pretty good. I gave it to her and she loved it.
What did I get in return? Nada, nothing, just a, “Thanks, dude.” I asked if I can just keep the picture, but she gave me an excuse that her parents might discover it was gone and freak out (B.S.).
NO HUG.
NO KISS.
NO TICKLE.
NO TONGUE.
NO PICTURE
NO MONEY.
NO FREE LUNCH.
NADA!
Yes, I was a pussy, and I bought into it. Lesson learned, about 5 years later.
I’m a late bloomer.
Always Buy Used – R.D. Aragon
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