Misunderstood

This is the third time in the last year that I find myself making the same request. The effort doesn't bother me one bit, but what I can't seem to comprehend is how people can be so heartless to an animal. Raani is the most misunderstood dog I have ever come across. People think she's been running a long streak of really shitty luck, but I know that's not true because every single time she has been run down by life, several wonderful people have found it in their hearts to go all out and help her.

All of us know what it feels like to be misunderstood and alone. Now try doing that without being able to reason and justify your behavior. Raani, is a rescued dog who has seen her share of bad days, and I am asking everyone out there to help me end this misery for her. She has been choked by a barbed wire, beaten with a stick by a drunk watchman, kept tied up in the sun for 4 straight months, teased, poked, prodded, kicked and if that wasn't enough someone has even whacked her muzzle with a blunt object that caused internal bleeding. In recent times, I have become a fan of silver linings. So here is Raani's silver lining - she survived it all. Not only is she physically fit today, but also for some reason none of these events have made her lose faith in human beings. She still LOVES people. As long as you'll pet her she'll sit on your lap, she will greet strangers with jumps and licks, and point her towards a table of any height she will climb it and then not know what to do. You could enroll her for the Olympics and she will win you a Gold because she is that athletic and agile.

She needs a loving home. The kind of family that spoils their dogs rotten, and treats them like family. She deserves nothing less. Please find it in your hearts to share this and spread the word. There's a blessing in the end for all those who help. Thank you.

Please call +919890114700 or +919890026036 for any queries.

She can spend hours looking out of the window.

When she's tired she likes to imitate Count Dracula.

Sometimes she's just a whirlwind. 

And then there is the - "Where is that bee buzzing?" look. 

Pink is really working for her.

She also pretends to be coy sometimes. 

And for all her different moods, she is always focusing on YOU. 

Signed and Sealed.

They sat across each other. The mahogany table between them personified hatred, and hostility, and nothingness. As she tapped her unmanicured nails on the table, trying to drown out the noise of all the screaming lawyers by an inane tune, she thought of all the pain and tears and screaming that table must have seen over the years. She was strange that way - always imagined life in inanimate objects. She had more emotions to offer for inanimate objects than human beings. She was immune to human pain. Like a resilient strain of a disease, this pain, sometimes there is no cure, and eventually it becomes such a big part of you that you learn to live with it.

They avoided each others eyes for most of those 6 hours. But when she did steal a look, she looked straight into his eyes, which scared him further because she could always read him so well. Every time he came home drunk, or had cheated on her, or lied, all she had to do was look into those eyes and she knew. No alcohol breath. No lipstick on the collar. No lie detectors or confessions.

Soon she realized the tapping of nails was getting loud enough to turn tired heads. She retracted them and sighed. These lawyers that she hired were pretty ruthless. Relentless motherfuckers. Trying to safeguard her mini fortune. When she decided to get a divorce, she had called a friend of hers, a divorcee, who recommended these lawyers like friends recommend hairdressers - " They are fantastic. You just give them my name, and they'll take care of everything. You'll love them." I don't think people think before they speak. Or maybe she was just excited to recruit another member to the Old Divorcees Club.

They had to call her name out twice to pull her out of her thoughts. When she was back in the room - physically and mentally, she realized how much the room was smelling of cigarettes. She immediately craved one but curbed herself. Instinct. She then told herself, that she didn't need to hide her filthy habit anymore, no more hiding the cigarettes in the laundry bag, or above the book shelf, no more revolting air freshener to mask the smell of the smoke, because within hours, hopefully less, she would be single again. She didn't have to pretend to be the better human being anymore. She lit a cigarette, and made a conscious effort to not look at him. They took her to a corner, and explained the settlement.

Financially, they were both independent, made enough money to take care of themselves and for the last few years of their married life, that's all they did. She didn't care who got the little holiday home that they both had invested in, because the market was right, not because they thought of spending their long weekends cuddled up in a far away place. He didn't care either. The last lady like thing she did was that she didn't tell the lawyers that he had cheated on her, on multiple occasions. She thought it was irrelevant in the light of all the things that had progressively gone wrong in their marriage. Sure the proceedings wouldn't have taken as long, but there was no victory in the end. She wasn't there to win, and for all the resentment that existed in her heart towards him, she knew he wasn't there for the gold medal either.

Besides, in her mind he had won already. The only thing she really cared about, her friends, who had, like all other things, her large bed, her medium sized dog, and her small heart, had also become his. They are the only people she fought for. She failed. She could never gain sympathy simply because she didn't know how. He on the other hand thrived on sympathy. We as a generation have become fans of the anti hero. We like people who make mistakes, and struggle with their flawed decisions in life. We empathize with people who drown their sorrows in bottles of booze and those who hurt others only as long as the reason for them to do so is love. When they decided to part ways, she told her friends, 'that is the best thing for us.' He told them, 'I love her, and I can't take this pain.' All her friends were sold to the man who put pain into words and served it on a platter. She put her pain in a vault and wished that eventually everything will just fall into place. For him and for her.

She had lost all her friends to him, and he knew it well. He signed the holiday home over to her. Perhaps to get rid of any residual guilt.

As the lawyers shook hands, she turned around and left. She had nothing left to say, no emotions left to show, no prize to display boastfully. She drove back home, with no friends to call over for a glass of wine or a bottle.

She slipped into her pajamas and his old oversized sweatshirt, fetched her bottle of wine, her pack of guilt free cigarettes, cuddled next to her dog, and switched on some TV with the hope of some distraction.

As she flipped through the channels aimlessly, her phone lit up. It was a text. From him.

'Your favorite movie is on. Channel 349.'

Fair chance

She sat alone staring blankly at her cup of coffee and she knew, that today is going to be the test of her resilience. She could almost never say the things she planned to when it came to moments like these. Almost. How could things be so bad, when nothing really went wrong? Something must have been amiss and she vowed to figure out what that was. All she really needed to do was to make the decision for herself and everything would fall into place for her. She looked at her watch. He was already 20 minutes late. She picked up her phone to call him, to ask him where he was. But she didn't make that call. She knew that every call she made to him, made her feel worse because he just didn't know how to be polite. Another 10 minutes, and he walked in, oblivious to the fact that this was her second cup of coffee and she looked like she could cry any minute. He sat down, took off his shades and said, "Sorry. Got stuck up in some work. Man my life sucks." She looked at him, and assuming the role of an understanding ex-girlfriend said, "That's okay. You want something? I'm going to get myself another cup of coffee." He said, "No." It's little things like these that had all of a sudden started to spring up in her face. She thought, if this really was a guy who liked me as much as he said he did, wouldn't he have asked me what I wanted? Wouldn't he know how much I like my Cafe Latte, with a hazelnut flavour?
She came back to the table and noticed he was talking to someone on the phone. She sat across him, staring at him, and she thought of all the good times. The time he cooked for her, and the time he looked at her with love. The time when they fell asleep in each other's arms and the time when they laughed so hard at something that only the two of them understood, that they knew this is as good as it gets. She knew that she ought to have thought of the pain. Of how he didn't know anything about himself, and how he dragged her out of her comfort zone, only to leave her stranded in the middle of nowhere. " So? How are you?", he said as he hung up, and she just smiled and replied, " I've been better." She gave herself a countdown, before she began to tell him what she wanted to say. 3-2-1. She always did that in situations where she was nervous, and petrified of the consequence. And somehow it always worked for her. 3-2-1. "So, practicality is evil. I've always believed that when you like someone you work at spending all your time with them, because that seems like the natural course of action. You get past the silly details that somehow don't bother you anyway, and you feel the joy. Every little bit of it. And for some reason, the only choice of action now is being practical. I get it. It's to avoid pain. But here's the thing, I've never really been afraid of pain, definitely not as much as I am afraid of losing out on people I so blatantly love. You are a horrible person. You don't get me. You don't even care enough to pretend, and that is hurtful. But that is not what I wanted to say to you. I wanted to tell you how much I am going to miss everything about you. I can't put my life on hold, and well, obviously neither can you, but I just wish this hurt you as much as it hurts me. It's not nice that while I get to be a caffeine popping no-one, you get to be this casual. Like nothing ever happened in your life. Practicality has changed all the rules of life, that I so diligently followed, drastically. It doesn't work for me, and it sure as hell works for you. So, it's been really nice knowing you, and someday, hopefully, we will get our fair chance at being with each other. Until then, you will be missed." He looked at her, not knowing what to say. And she fumbled with her keys, and her bag, before she left, because she hoped that today would be different. That today for a change he would know what to say. But he didn't. As she walked away from him, she felt physically distant from him for the first time in her life, and as hurtful as that feeling was she was thanking her stars for it. As she sat in her car, clouded by a million thoughts in her head, she crossed her fingers and hoped this would mean clarity.

1 hour : 22 minutes : 57 seconds

She never thought this day could get any worse, the sad emotional, fool that she was. As they slept in each others arms she wondered to herself, "How did I get this lucky?" She smiled to herself, and made a mental note, 'Don't let him catch you smile. EVER.'
He didn't understand why women were so affectionate, all the time. He just put women in the same bracket as all things pink, and teddy bears, and body lotions that smell like fruit. He never told her, how much he loved how nice she would smell every single day. He knew she was different. Good different. As they kissed, she realized how much it hurt to know that she liked him so much more than he liked her. But she told herself everyday, that it was okay. Two people are never identical.
He knew she was having a rough day and he tried to make her laugh, he tickled her, messed her hair up, he even propped her nose up to make her look like a pig. He didn't know any better. And she didn't know anything at all. She wondered if speaking about the day with a man who would much rather not listen, would do any good? He delayed leaving her, because he knew she was hurting, but he always was good at letting guilt go. Quick. Dirty. Painless. The minute he left, she cried, after so long. Loud. Long. Painful.
When he called her later, just as he promised he would, she felt lost, and distracted. She could hear a certain dejection in his voice. She could almost hear him say, "I can't believe I chose this for myself." She asked him why he sounded like he was out of hope, like he was unhappy. He just said, he wasn't. In fact, he was affirmative in his response. He actually said the words, "I am happy." But she, the cynic that she was, didn't believe a word. How could she believe him, when every chance he got, he left her stranded and questioned her feelings? He told her, that she had the tendency to behave like she was the only one with problems. So much for her belief and pride in her strength and ability to overcome tough situations by herself. She thought, you spend all your life wondering if the few things that you like about yourself are actually worth appreciating, and you hope, like all fools do, that the one person you share most of your life's moments with isn't the same person who succeeds in making you believe that those things don't really exist at all.
She always hated men who didn't respond when she spoke. And he was as she always said, 'another level of heartless.' But she remembered, a little later in the day, but she remembered, that, 'he was not so good with words, but oh so good with heart.' Another thing she always said about him. She told him how she needed him, and that he should never stop being himself because that is what she liked the most about him. Every inch of his body, every small part of his heart. She told him that she had forgotten that although he didn't listen, because she never spoke, he did blow wind on her face, and kissed her cheeks, and bit her arm, and held her tightly, and that was the best he could do, and his best was good enough. He didn't pay any heed to her words then, for he had crossed over to a land where he was a man's man, where he said hurtful things, and she was sarcastic, even when she was crying. She asked him, "Do you really like this? Us?" To which he said, "Yes.", and then she asked, "Tell me please what it is you like about us?" and he curtly replied, "No."
Some more hurtful words and then came the line that drove her sleep away. "I will talk to you tomorrow, I am too sleepy and I really don't want to understand anymore." She sighed, and in her head she imagined jumping through hoops of fire. "Goodnight" she said, saddened by the thought that this is it for tonight, or maybe...and he still didn't say a word. She waited, and shut her eyes in despair, feeling the lack of clarity, the blur, from all the tears. Hoops. Hoops. More Hoops. "The end", she said, as she hung up, and walked over to her pack of cigarettes. One drag. Two drags.Three and Four. The phone began to ring. The picture of the two of them that came up when he called, inebriated, happy, affectionate always made her smile. She remembered her mental note before she answered his call. 'Don't let him catch you smile. EVER.'
He called to say goodbye and goodnight.
Hoops. Good with heart. Painful. Painless.
1 hour: 22 minutes: 57 seconds

Thinking out loudly.

Travel Writing.

It's been a while. Can't believe I can still hold on to a pen. Thinking. Check. Over-thinking. Check. This has been the year of many goodbye's. Also the year of many hello's. And the year that 'wassup' and all it's pathetic variations have noticeably started to dwindle. Thank God. Speaking of God, Chulbul Pandey beats Jesus Christ. Hands down. Speaking of hands. Wolverine should be careful when he scratches his..eye..he could hurt himself. Speaking of hurting yourself, Amy Winehouse is under-rated. Such genius. Speaking of genius, I'm glad Einstein cares about Bee's as much as I do.

Music is different now. Songs used to bring back memories of the men in my life- good, bad. Now they bring back memories of feelings. The men are lost. Frankly, that upsets me a little. Does it mean that there have been so many men that even my feelings can't match themselves to the appropriate men? Like Tupac reminds me of wanting to jump off a building. Aerosmith reminds me of the joy of a karaoke dedication. Bon Jovi of random comfort. REM of the joy of great conversation and bad coffee. Clapton of the first real love. Ray Charles of the warmth of an oversized sweatshirt. The Beatles of the sadness of not being smart enough to fold at the right time. Miles Davis of the sadness of not calling someone enough, for no good reason. Jaymay of the euphoria of finally accepting loneliness as an important part of me. See? Great music. Strong feelings. No men.

Women are smarter. Not easier but smarter. So aware of every thought, every emotion, every skipped heartbeat. But, no control. The reason for most problems in life. Substance abuse. No impulse control. Accidents due to rash driving. No control. Kleptomania. No control. Unplanned pregnancy. No control.

Men in locals look dejected. They look down at the ground, with their bags clutched tightly in their arms, some falling asleep, some just counting and recounting the number of toes on their feet. Women on the other hand look contemplative. They look out of windows, the wind blowing their hair into a mess, but they love it. They imagine themselves to be a part of a movie. Silly, hopeless, women. They even listen to music. Smiles on their faces. Sad smiles, rejected smiles, embarrassed smiles, lovelorn smiles. I bet they sing the words to every song they listen to. Lyrics are important to women you know. Just as important as that bag is to the men clutching it in their arms.

It's funny that both, lots of lights and darkness make me feel equally elated. 'Lights on or lights off? How would you like it?' they ask me. 'If you are going to turn the lights on, turn many lights on, many pretty lights' I tell them. They have this quality- they beautify anyone and anything. No lights has a quality too- deindividualization. Almost like you shut your eyes and pretend like the problem disappeared. I love that about kids- it's so easy for kids to get rid of the demons under their beds- just close your eyes and they go away. With adults, those demons stay forever. So, yes, deindividualization, the quality of darkness. Like a man who robs a bank, wears a mask on his face, it boosts his ego I presume. He can be anyone he likes behind that mask. Without the mask, or that darkness, he is probably just another guy who is conscious about his acne.

Reaching a destination. Man, the journey does matter.

Stories your grandma should probably tell you.. but will not!

So, there was this guy, big, burly biceps, a smile that would kill, a swagger that would drive girls crazy and an attitude that made him the best thing that ever happened to our tiny little school. My friends told me that there was a rumor running around that, he, that man's man had a crush on me. I couldn't believe it. I told people I didn't believe it. Although the only thing I could have hoped for was that it was true. Then one day, as I got off my tiny little school bus, he came over to me, smiled and said, 'Hey'. I was overwhelmed. Engulfed with birds, and trees, and music, and hearts, and all things pretty. I felt like, well, any 15 year old girl, with two pigtails, and an American Tourister bag with a powerpuff girl sticker would feel. Soon enough he asked me out. Told me everyday how lucky I was to be with him. Not in those many words. But in every little thing he did, and every way that he looked at me, that's all he said. But who am I kidding? He was right. I was lucky to be with him. Things he taught me, no one else would or could.

There was a dark side to him that was hypnotic. You wanted to get out of the slow, miserable, state, but you just couldn't. I was stuck in a limbo for a long time. Too long. So long that I needed a bolt of lightening to hit me before I could wake up, pick up my stuff and leave.

After having cursed my friends, my family, me, and having physically hurt some people I cared immensely about, I decided to leave. I met him on a pleasent winter evening and tried to be as polite about it as I could. But how politely can one break someone's heart? As I told him what was on my mind, and why it was best we went our seperate ways, he picked up his hand, gathered all the strength required and more in his big, burly biceps, and hit me across my face. Then as I lay on the ground he looked at me with that beautiful smile that killed, plastered across his face, and walked right away. I would be very stupid if I told you that I didn't see this coming, that I didn't see all the signs. Well, grandma, like all other 15 year olds was very very stupid. But if there is one thing I learnt from this, is, to learn how to throw a decent punch, and to duck in time.

Then I met this boy, beautiful like the sun. Always smiling, always looking at the world, with the 'glass half full' attitude. I met him at a time in my life when I was what you young kids call yourselves for no good reason; a cynic. I didn't believe in goodness, or in love. I thought all men become woman beating, self-indulgent, asses at some point in their lives. This guy reinstated my faith in the inherrent niceness that some people have in them. He always held open doors for me, let me walk in first, he even offered to always pay for dinners, but darling no self respecting woman should ever let that happen. Never let a man believe that that's all it takes to make a woman happy, pay her bills. It wasn't true then, and it shouldn't be true now.But the best trait was that he was never shy to say sorry first. We had a good run, me and him, laughing a lot, depending on each other, going out on picnics. The good times were the best. We would talk about everything. We knew how we would get married, where we would live, what car we would buy, what our kids names will be, what our pets names were going to be. It was perfect, only until it wasn't. Soon I began to feel uncomfortable around myself. I felt like I was pretending to be happy living a life where everything was decided. I wasn't ready to be that person who knows everything about her life even before it takes place. Just slowly wait for things to happen, and smile, or not, when they do. So, I told him, in the best way I knew how. He fell to the ground. Like I just took his life. Well, maybe I did. But then he took mine. Repeatedly. I decided to go against all norms and stick by him while he struggled to stand up. When he finally stood up, he began with blatantly making out with a girl who I call my life, flirted with a friend I grew up with, and held hands with a girl who had depended on me on many occasions, all in my presence. I took the advice of a stranger, which as you will learn in life yourself, is the best, most sound advice you will ever get. I cut him out of my life. The funniest part is that he was still the first to say sorry, after every single time that he actively caused me pain. And instead of counting the number of mistakes, I focussed on the order of the apologies. Well, anyway, from this guy I learnt two very important things. One, the value of an apology is lost when you find yourself apologizing all the time, to the same person. And, two, is the most important one, so write it down, hell I say print it on the cigarette packs, ' You will never end up with the person you call your first love.'

I moved on eventually. Like we all do. And I met a wonderful man. A man who loved the idea of being in love, and the madness that came along with it. He loved the good and the bad, and the ugly, as long as he had someone to love. He was such a great story teller. When he narrated an incident from a time in his life which I was not a part of, he would really focus on the little details. Like the color of the clothes, or what season it was, did anything consequential happen in the year of that particular incident. It was always fun listening to him. He was so good with jokes that he made me laugh. He was so good with words that he made me cry. He was the new joy of my life, but he wanted things from me that I couldn't possibly give him. It's true that all he asked for is love, and more love. But there's a thing about more love; I read it in a book I think, or saw it in a movie, I'm too old to remember the exact details, but the line has remained with me since then. 'When your heart breaks, sometimes it grows back crooked.' He wanted every ounce of my heart, but he couldn't see how it was twisted up into a mess. Unable to beat, unable to care, unable for more love than it knew in it's own twisted way. All I asked him for was time so I could learn to care and trust again. But he knew nothing but to love. It wasn't until much later that I taught myself the art of trusting, but one thing I learnt immediately from this is that only love will not keep you alive.

It was a long, long, long time until I met someone else. For the first time in my life I was making an effort to understand myself. I packed my bags, and took my mind to the quietest place in the world. I surrounded it with silence and music, and let it scream, shout, yell, throw tantrums, and just let it be. I owed it to my mind. All those years of over thinking, rationalizing, and logic. It deserved a holiday. I could now keep up with myself. If happiness is what everyone is looking for, why not look for it one day at a time? My mind wasn't screaming any more. It was ready to turn a new leaf, and so was I. When I met this next man, we were two strangers, in a room full of more strangers, who smiled politely at each other. Except this man. He wasn't impolite, he was just shy. So shy that when I saw him looking at me, he turned away in fear. He denies that he was afraid, but I know what scares him. He didn't come up to me and say hello, and when I spoke to him for the first time, he stammered. My friends still laugh about that. He wasn't the most expressive man on earth, he didn't know which actions are chivalrous and which are not, he wasn't always funny, but he was an honest man, with a beautiful heart. He took beautiful pictures, of people. Never trees, or flowers, or the sky. Always people. Catching them in their benign actions, making them look beautiful. When we were together, if we found ourselves seperated by a room full of strangers, like the first time we ever met, he makes an effort to find me, catch my eye, and just smile. It's beyond perfect. He is perfect. He didn't teach me anything profound. I think that is why I love him.

Things to follow. Meticulously.

1. NEVER DATE ANYONE WHO HAS MORE THAN 3 FRIENDS WHO ARE YOUNGER THAN HIM. GENDER NO BAR.
Only those who have the intellectual and emotional abilities of a grape will ever voluntarily 'hang out' with people younger than themselves.

2. NEVER EVER BELIEVE THE SUPPOSED RULE, "OPPOSITES ATTRACT."
It is impossible to sustain a relationship with someone, when you note the differences as the pro's initially. They will within no time turn into cons. It's a given.

3.(A) DO NOT SLEEP WITH SOMEONE ON THE FIRST DATE; specially if,
- either of you, or both of you are too drunk to remember how many drinks you have guzzled or are able to spell 'chlorophyll' correctly. Whichever occurs first.

- the line leading to the occasion is, 'Your hands are so pretty.' or ' Are those real?' or 'Do you workout?' Well you get the point.

- either of you have cried your eyes out just before, perhaps over a broken relationship, or a dead pet, or Arsenal losing etc.

- your disabled cognitive abilities make you think or say, "God, that guy, with the big chin and the hairy fingers..you know the one in the tight pants and the blood red tee that says 'I'm free tonight' is totally checking me out. Maybe I should go talk to him!"

- when he/ she talks about their abs or biceps as a separate entity altogether. Worse. If they have actual names for the aforementioned body parts. Example, "Hey baby, go ahead, touch Rocky(the bicep), don't worry, he looks strong, but that's just so he can beat the crap out of the guys who trouble you...."

3.(B) DO NOT SLEEP WITH SOMEONE ON THE FIRST DATE; except when,
- He is a neurosurgeon and he just got back from a successful craniotomy. :)

- either of you find out that the other is a yoga instructor.

-either of you just won a million dollars and a fancy car.

- you look so exceptionally good on that particular day, that even you can't keep your hands of yourself.

4. NEVER DATE OR IMMEDIATELY DUMP SOMEONE WHO SAYS, "Love... well love is complex...who really knows what love is?"
People who are still trying to figure out what love really is are never really going to. And no matter how much you convince yourself that like in every movie, when the right person comes along, the ignorant cynic always figures LOVE out, it will never happen. These ignorant morons are the one's on the basis of whom, therapist's enjoy long holidays in the Bahamas.

5. NEVER EVER TATTOO ANY NAME, ANY INITIALS, ANY PET NAME THAT IS NOT YOUR OWN, ON ANY PART OF YOUR BODY. NO MATTER HOW WELL HIDDEN.
Not that I don't believe in a love that stands all tests of time, but I am positive that your body does not believe in the same. Besides, if ever that love fails, laser tattoo removal is long and painful. No one is worth that much pain. Not even Colin Farrell. YES..I SAID IT!!!

6. NEVER DATE SOMEONE WHO IS TOTALLY PERFECT LOOKING. FLAWLESS.
They will never make any effort because they believe they don't have to. They believe them just showing up is good enough. And besides all they are capable of talking about, is themselves.

7. DO NOT DATE ANYONE WHO USES TOO MANY clichés...
"I am just not in the right place right now" , "It's not you, it's me." , "We can always be friends." etc are the adult equivalent for baby talk. It means nothing. It is not comforting. It is just noise! And for someone to still use it must mean they lost a part of their brain in a tragic accident. OR..... they have used these lines so many times, and they have actually worked, so the only people they have dated are those who lost a part of their brain in a tragic accident. Either ways, it's time to bid farewell.

8. NEVER DATE ANYONE WHO IS NOT LIVING IN THE SAME CITY AS YOU.
It's not that long distance relationships don't work out. I wouldn't know because I have never tried. But here's the thing, they are NOT SUPPOSED TO work out. A webcam or skype version of him/her can't hold your hand during a movie, can't give you his sweatshirt when you feel cold, can't go out for long walks/drives with you. So, while I agree that there isn't such a thing as a 'Perfect Boyfriend/Girlfriend' there absolutely is such a thing as a 'Perfect Relationship' and that is the one that is there, right next to you, one call away, bringing you hot chocolate at 2 am kinds.

9. NEVER DATE ANYONE WHO HATES YOUR DOG/DOGS.
Well......because dogs always trump everyone else.