Year of the Chick (book 1 in the "Year of the Chick" series)

Chapter Six

I didn’t have a date on this Valentine’s night, and after spending the day at work listening to Amy’s romantic plans, not to mention helping Eleanor choose a dress (for dinner with a brand new admirer), I was ready to fall into a food-related coma. Too bad all the cake’s gone.

My sister had told me she’d be home late from work, but I started to wonder if that really meant a Valentine’s date. Theoretically it was possible, since it wasn’t like we ever confided in each other on the details.

Nah, no guy with a functioning brain would ever date her.

I wanted to call Laura, but then I remembered her big Italian family. She was close with her cousins, as they’d all grown up together in Toronto’s Little Italy suburb. I had no idea what being close to your family was like (confiding in them? Enjoying their presence?), but I knew her cousins would be her company tonight. And I didn’t want to get in the way.

So with no food or friends, my laptop was my saviour tonight. I propped my big pillows against the headboard, and leaned back slowly with a sigh. Then I pulled my blanket to my chest and checked my e-mail. I had a new one from John Turner. I only knew him from university and couldn’t care less about him now, but like many other recipients, I was always subjected to his forwards.

Today it was a “must-see” link, for a blog he claimed was totally hilarious. The blog had even been turned into a book. But I don’t care what John likes. What does ROMI like? That’s the only important question.

I moved my cursor to delete the e-mail, but stopped when I had a sudden thought: someone landed a book deal from a blog?

Even though blogs were an easy way to write, I’d always considered blogging as a pastime for losers who had no friends. Or teenagers with too many conflicting emotions. Or shut-ins who only left the basement when they ran out of chips.

But I do love to write, don’t I?

I clicked on the link to have a look.

The blogging thing didn’t seem that hard, but these average-length posts were written several times a week. Did people really have time for that? The more I read, the more I realized that bloggers could write about anything they liked. Maybe I could write about my man-search. One Indian girl’s quest to escape an arranged marriage: Year of the Chick!

It’s not like I actually believed that writing a blog would bring me any notoriety. In fact I knew there must be millions of blogs, most of which went entirely unnoticed. Even so, this felt like just the way to verbalize my thoughts, on a quest that was undoubtedly a turning point.

And so, while everyone else was either making sweet love, or eating loads of chocolate in the absence of love, I was opening an account in WordPress, choosing a picture for my header, and writing my very first post to the world at large.

***

After only one week of blogging, I could sense the joy of writing coming back. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was churning out the word count and having some fun. The feeling made me smile as I finished my latest post.

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So maybe Mr. Whiskey-breath wasn’t “the one,” but I’m happy to be alone if it means avoiding men with pinky rings (ugh!).

And the search carries on…

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I’d already received five comments on my blog, two from fellow writers, and three from people who could only be described as “horny online men.” They hadn’t even seen my picture, yet still they were bold enough to flirt. But that’s what made the Internet special…don’t ask, don’t tell, just embrace the pleasant fantasy.