I Keep Accidentally Becoming a Person I Didn’t Plan to Be

Image courtesy of
Marie Dashkova via Scopio

When I go on first dates, the place has to have good lighting.

I don’t look good in fluorescent lighting. I need something softer. Dim. Forgiving.
Lighting that suggests I have a past, not pores.

And don’t even get me started on trying to camouflage the wrinkles.
At this point, I’m not hiding them—I’m just asking the lighting to show a little respect.

By the second date, though, you can see me however you want.
Broad daylight. Overhead kitchen light. Car interior at noon.
At that point, we’re both just dealing with reality.

I don’t smile in pictures.

Cameras already do something strange to my face, and smiling feels like giving them more material to work with.

In real life, I smile—warm, friendly, normal.

In photos, I look like I’ve been given orders.

Not unhappy. Just… available for deployment.
Emotionally unavailable, but in a very structured way.

I’ve also become someone who needs a lot of alone time—
but not too much.

I work from home, so sometimes I go to Starbucks just to be around people.
Not to talk to them. Absolutely not.
Just to sit near them. Like emotional support strangers.

And then the weirdest part—

I’ll start to feel lonely.
So I’ll make plans. I’ll see people I genuinely love. I’ll have a good time.

And then I come home and need to recover from them.

Not because of them.
Because of… being a person, I think.

I don’t remember deciding to be this way.

Somewhere along the line, I just became someone who needs perfect lighting to meet you,
but also needs three to five business days to recover from enjoying your company.

My friend and I have a running joke that we should make a dating profile where we only list our worst traits.
Just full transparency.

Like: I have sleep apnea and wear something to bed that looks like scuba gear.
Nothing says “stay over” like a soft mechanical breathing noise keeping us both alive.

And when I’m not using my very sexy breathing machine, sometimes I suck my thumb.
I know. I’m fifty. I recognize I have issues. 

The other day, I was driving around for a long time and had to pee.
I got to my front door, reached for the handle… and my body just made a decision without me.

So yeah. That’s where we’re at.

Another thing I’ve accidentally become is someone who refuses to grocery shop.

I love food. I love shopping.

But grocery shopping?

Absolutely not.

That’s where the line is.

I will put it off until there is nothing left in my house.
Not “nothing good.” Nothing.

I have eaten frozen dinners that are over a year old like I’m in a mild, self-inflicted emergency.

The other day I ate the two end pieces of bread.
You know the ones no one claims. The dead crusty slices.

I stood there eating them like, this is who I am now.

Then I tried to follow it up with crackers that tasted like they had experienced time.

I know I can order groceries. I know that.
But most of my shopping is impulsive.

I need to walk in, see something, and think, yes, this will fix everything.

Planning ahead feels… too responsible.
Like a version of me I haven’t accidentally become yet.

Sometimes I’m just ridiculous.

Like when I actually do make it to the grocery store, I stand in line reading the tabloid headlines.

Not the articles. Just the headlines.

Then I make up my own stories about what happened.

I imagine one day I’ll end up in one of those magazines because I’ve become a famous writer.

Something dramatic like:

LOCAL WOMAN WITH SLEEP APNEA AND EMOTIONAL SUPPORT STRANGERS FOUND EATING EXPIRED LASAGNA IN DIM LIGHTING

The truth is, absolutely nothing exciting is happening in my life.

No scandals. No affairs. No secret love child.

Just me, standing in my kitchen under respectful lighting, eating crusty bread and trying to remember if I bought milk.

Perfect lighting.
Emotional support strangers.
A sleep mask that could double as life support.
Expired food.

Make-believe headlines.
And a very real sense of urgency around front doors.

I’m… extremely hot.

nina

A couple of friends and I started a podcast called 2 Curries and a Ranch. Listen here: https://2curriesandaranch.riverside.com/  or wherever you get your podcasts.

Imagine two loud, dramatic, hilarious Indian women explaining to a white man what it's like to grow up and live in America. Join us for laughter, deep thoughts, and witty banter about life, love and culture. We tell it like it is, with honest, bold and funny stories, discussions and arguments. We explore boundaries and challenge norms. Join us for a good talk.

We have a new episode out: Gup Shup/ Chit Chat:

Join us for a deeper dive into some of the topics we explored in previous episodes. Listen to us contemplate everything from arranged marriage to spicy Indian food vs. plain American food!

Next
Next

I’m Plagiarizing My Life