Don't Bring an Ex to a Double Date

Rahul did not know who his first love was. 

Like most of his friends he dated a girl for the first time while in high school. Archana was a sweetheart. Moreover, she was a vegetarian – a prerequisite his family would have sought for in his partner. He did not know this when he first started talking to her, of course. She was the only other Gujarati in his class. 

They bonded over local food, and jokes about their questionable taste. It was too sweet to satisfy either person’s palette. But soon, khakras had been replaced by infrequent comments about each other in the midst of imitations of their class teacher, and sharing news passed down from each of their friend’s groups. As the weeks went by, exams passed by too – suffice to say, their conversations extended beyond mere exchange of notes the other might have missed. 

Now, years later, Rahul felt it was neither his pleasure nor his leisure to talk to her. He had never deleted her number after they had passed out from school, either despite or because of the heartbroken self he found himself to be in his first year of college. 

There was no grand spectacle when their relationship drew to a close. The colleges they had selected for themselves were in different parts of the country. They were emotional about each other, but more level-headed about life in general – they promised to stay in touch, but decided it would be best to call off their relationship where they were anything more than friends. 

Rahul had dated three more women since – one in college, one through a dating app, and finally, one of his colleagues. He had married this colleague after a relationship of three years. They were in different departments, so management never interfered. 

Every time he tried to move on from someone, he did not resort to forgetting his partner. It was always tough and brought him a great deal of discomfort, but like his first time, and what he hoped to would be his last time before marriage to eventual wife, he had resorted to giving up any infatuation he still had for these women with whom his relationship had ended. In the end, he would never truly cease to love some part of each of them, but his mind could no longer convince itself about the matter of his first love – what was infatuation, what was love, and why did he need to differentiate between any of them anyway? It caused only heartache. He had resorted to remain as satisfied as he could without feeling unfulfilled at dinner parties when asked about his first love in a manner of a tease in front of his wife. 

But today, dinner would be different. She had invited a college friend of hers – Harish, a male friend who had been her closest classmate during her history honours. When she showed him a picture of Harish with his wife, who would be accompanying him for the dinner, he did not speak for some time. Rahul’s wife noticed, but when he managed to regain his senses soon enough, she thought of it as an aberration. But when the couple arrived at their home, his wife must have sensed the air of discomfort return to the air for a moment again. 

“Hello,” Harish said. After he had shaken hands with Rahul, his wife went ahead to hug him. There was affection, but Rahul had never been the suspecting or overanalytical individual. As it turned out to be anyways, he was looking at Harish’s wife. Here she was, again – she looked so much more mature, but it was unmistakably her. He had gone on Facebook a day before to search for her profile and confirm his suspicion, if one could call it that. Yes, it was indeed her. 

And before they could break off eye contact with each other, or even muster a smile, Harish said, “And meet my wife, Archana. Met her on a dating site. Never thought that place would be for me. But look now, who am I to complain when I’ve got an angel like her?” 

He held her hand as he said this. Rahul could tell they hadn’t been married for too long. He still loved her without having gone through the lows of marriage, it was evident. His smile spoke of honest affection. Archana’s eyes spoke of the same, but her smile was a nervous one. She was not comfortable being here. Not any more than Rahul, at least. 

But only Rahul must have known her well enough – or at least long enough – to be the only one who could make out her nervousness. Others would have taken it as a sign of introversion which she surely wouldn’t have given up. Or maybe, she had, and he was reading her wrong... but could it ever be so? 

The couple were led to the dinner table, where the extra chairs had been brought out the night before. It was not often that Rahul and his wife had guests over – they were introverts themselves, who preferred resorting to reading books or watching movies by themselves on most weekends, rather than attending parties like most of their colleagues. 

But she had come across Harish after too many days on the streets. An invitation was more than a formality, which he had taken up with equal vigour. Fixing up an appointment on the upcoming weekend was something the both of them found comfortable. 

The food had been prepared with a touch of extravagance as well. As Rahul’s wife went to the kitchen to bring out the starters, Harish looked at Rahul with a smile which only accompanies a confident man. “Where did you meet her then?” 

Rahul nodded towards the kitchen to confirm they were talking about the same woman. “Office, seven years ago. Were much younger people back then. Met on a tangent project. Went out on lunch because we needed to wrap up a few loose ends. With time, the meals became less formal, then they became dinner.” 

His wife had returned with the food by now. She might have heard a bit of his response too, for she allowed herself a smile, if nothing more. 

“And how did you meet her?” Ravi asked, nodding towards Archana. He was finally letting off a bit of steam. The memories might have come back rushing to him earlier in the evening, but by now, he had reaffirmed his stance with women from his past – he did not feel overwhelmed any longer. 

“Ah well,” Harish said, “she was originally meant to be a rebound.” 

There was awkward laughter from either side of the table. “Hence the dating app?” Rahul asked. 

Harish laughed himself. “Ah, all’s well that ends well.” 

For a moment of two, Rahul felt he should not probe further. But he felt relaxed after a long time. He allowed himself to make a further query in jest – “Any chance you could supplement us with information about the one powerful enough to make you search for a rebound who became your wife?” 

The man looked up from his meal all of a sudden. So did both the women at the table. Rahul thought he had crossed a line, but he could never think of what was to come next. 

“Oh, I thought you knew,” Hari said, with measured apprehension. “I used to date your wife, until she left me and met you.”