- He hates Monsoon Wedding.
- He will probably hate India.
- In fact, he will probably not want to even give it a try.
- He hates poetry, art, painting. He thinks they are pretentious.
- He does not believe in God or spirituality or the power of beauty (all synonymous in my head, but please don't ask me how I arrive at this stellar conclusion.)
- He hates people. And coffee shops and expensive coffees.
- Fashion, and inky skies after dusk and people-watching and wild dancing and noise and wildness. Saris the colour of sunsets and roses behind the ear. Colour and madness. All are lost on him.
Fuck, I love this man? And he loves me?
- Oh and don't get me started on some of the things that come out of his mouth:
- "God, why do you need to be happy?"
Fuck fuck fuck.
Shot if I stay, shot if I don't.
Fuck fuck fuck
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