A boring story

When she was a baby, they told her about love.When she was a child, she knew all about it.

At eleven, she gave up waiting for a prince to come on a white horse.

At fifteen, for the first time a boy’s eyes met hers in love. She was in love for three weeks. Then he changed his hairstyle.


At twenty, she gave up on the bended knee. She was in love with a man who read Ayn Rand and was destined for great things.

At twenty two, her true love denounced world peace and decided that the greatest thing in the world was a US green card.She denounced him and world peace.

At twenty four, she forgot Valentine’s Day. She was studying for her exams and had a perfect score. She also had a perfect boyfriend, who actually read enough of and about Ayn Rand to realize that she was not perfect. One year later they broke up, as the intellectually mature man in her life could not accept that fact that she landed a better job than him.

At twenty six, she had a good job and a better affair with one of the senior partners of her firm. He bought her flowers, he bought her chocolates. And when one day he buried his head in her hair and asked her if she would like to be his wife, she coolly said no. She did not like to be cheated, and knew enough of people to try and change them.Shortly afterwards, she swore off roses and chocolates too.

At twenty nine, she seduced the nineteen year old son of the partner. It was fun the first few times, but the boy wanted her ‘to be mine, all mine.’ It got trite after a while. She gave up on the semantics of ownership.


At thirty three, she went out for a beer with a friend of hers in a London Public house. They have been vaguely friends and good acquaintances for a long time, and given that they worked in related fields, they kept running into each other. They had swapped stories of sexual conquests and sexual frustrations over the years, and in the pub over some English ale, they were talking about life.

‘Lets make babies.’ She told him.

‘Lets get married.’ He told her.

‘But not now. Lets wait for a few more years.’

‘Yes – in may be five years? ‘

'May be.'

They agreed, and smiled at each other in embarrassment. Further discussions could not be carried forth as a pub fight had broken out and they were more keen to see it then to talk about their wedding.

That night, when walking back to his home discussing the finer points of the English Pub Brawl, she felt oddly thankful, and rested; with the satisfaction she had only experienced with a good score in an exam or a project well completed.

This is a bit boring.

We know.

So why did You chose to tell this?

Because this is one of the few moments in the game where We both were there, and in perfect harmony.

But it is boring!

Well, she liked Us.

So did he.

.....................................................

It is still boring…

You have become impatient. You spend too much time with them, carrying them around in Your stupid box.

Yes, and you take them away in the middle of the game! Not fair!

I have the Karma to look at, you know – cant let them have too much wear and tear…

Whatever. Lets go back to our game.

They rose as One, and went back to the game, leaving Carer alone. He sat staring after them, and then picked up his box and went after them.