Love is one-quarter deaf, half blind and a quarter mute. I arrived at this conclusion after realizing that I’ve never really been in love since my vote became acceptable. Nor have I felt deafness, blindness and muteness at a fixed proportion. Though the whole business of propositioning a girl with promises still intrigues me, I haven't asked anyone out yet. I've had moments that lasted a few days here and there but I never felt the urge to envision a life with someone. That's what folks in love do, right? Apparently, it requires courage and a level of selflessness that I stunningly lack. Not a single night has passed by when I couldn't sleep because I was thinking of someone. Nor a day has greeted me to shake me off my daydreaming spree. Maybe I’m too idealistic for my own good. Put in a sentence, my idea of love is simpler because it doesn't prescribe to any condition and is bereft of pretensions. It doesn't require someone to be something. It's either there or not. Almost all my friends turned cosmic-eyed when they confessed they had feelings for someone they never ended up with. That never happened to me. Too much exposure to Manchester United, poetry and existential thoughts can do so to anyone. In unrelated news, not very long ago, a friend of mine told me that I’ll never be happy because I bask in my loneliness. The exact words were "How can you be so consumed by yourself?" before my mind-screen went blank. All I remember from that conversation is a concerned voice. It didn't belong to me. I was three-fourth blind and a quarter mute.