Mr. B (name changed) and I met at a social gathering. We were both in the same circle, but neither of us really noticed each other at the time. I was seeing someone else then and I wasn’t too sure where he stood in his life.

My now-ex and I knew that we weren’t going to have a future together. We tried speaking to our parents, but when my parents disagreed, I complied. No questions asked. Not even a small argument. I was left shattered.

My ex was perfect. We were childhood friends and even after things ended, we couldn’t stop speaking to each other. We had a beautiful understanding between each other. He was my Mr. Right and the perfect guy I saw myself ending up with. Except for this mess with our families, we fit so well.

It took me two years to find myself after this break-up and it was then that I actually noticed B for the first time. He was the ultimate ‘Bad Boy’, he even had that imperfect dimple and un-even smile.

The world saw him as he was, but to me, he was perfect. We didn’t start talking immediately but it didn’t take me long to fall for him. If there ever were two opposite poles, it was us: I hated smokers, he couldn’t sit without a cigarette.

I’d given my heart out only once, he on the other hand, couldn’t remember how many girls he’d kissed.

I was a die-hard romantic, he told me he never wanted to get married. I can go on and on. I had all the reasons not to but before I knew it, I was in love with him. He kissed me on our first date and I didn’t want him to stop. Two weeks later he took me out for the weekend and we made love.

Not once did he say that he loved me or that he was ever going to be ready to get married but there I was, smitten by my Mr. Wrong.  

We spoke for hours, he told me stories and showed me this sensitive side of his. But it was only when we truly spoke about marriage did I begin to see hints of what my future would look like. And it wasn’t a very bright or glamorous one.

He came from a family that didn’t want a woman to work. My family had raised me to be a strong and independent woman. His family thought a wife should wear a saree and take care of the house. Mine had never once objected to any of my clothes.
And yet, I changed, for him.

I agreed to almost everything he wanted. And he still asked me to change. And I always did. Call me stupid, but I’m still waiting for him to say that he loves me. For him to tell me that he cares and that he won’t give up on me. He’s everything that I shouldn’t want and don’t deserve, but he’s everything that I want.

He is Mr. Wrong. And yet, I changed, for him. As many times as he asked me. I always did, I always will. I’m sitting here, still hoping that he will too.

That my Mr. Wrong will soon become my Mr. Right after all.  

Share This Story