My Imaginary Boyfriend

Friday night after class, Bibi and I planned to do some shopping, and her enterprising rickshaw driver insisted on showing us "very nice shop." We protested, then agreed to go in for five minutes to pacify him.

I browsed through stacks of luscious pashminas while listening to a chorus of "for you, a good price." We turned to leave before noticing a jewelry room off to the side. I'm a silver junkie, and I figured I should just see what's out there. I settled in to try on some bracelets, and Bibi had seen some pieces that would be good for her daughter.

All good business types know you can catch more flies with honey, but Ravees was over the top. After several compliments that I couldn't take seriously, he suggested drinks. "Oh, I'm fine," I said.

"No, no, not here. We will go somewhere nice."
"I don't drink. And besides, I'm very busy with yoga classes. My days are pretty full."
"We can meet late--after 10pm."

I decided to bring up every single woman's fave, MIB (My Imaginary Boyfriend), but Ravees wasn't having any of it. "Why is he not in India?"

"He's very busy with his [imaginary] job."

And so on and so forth, until I'd been invited to his home city, Dehli, but "without your boyfriend, I do not think I would like that."

Much like the men on New York streets who call to you with "Let's go away for the weekend!" I have to wonder: does this approach ever work? Do men ever find someone who says, "Sure!" The real problem is that there is a pair of garnet earrings in his store that I know my sis would love. I fear going back might give Ravees the wrong idea.