Through the looking glass

It was great to have Mike with me in Kerala. He fit in so well, in his half-sleeved cotton shirts and Raymond trousers and Bata sandals, drinking his tea and reading the Hindu. He could have been living here for years. In the Indian dating scene, this is exactly whom I would have wanted to date. But instead I found him in America, in gym shorts and crazy for ice hockey.
I will kind of miss the Indian Mike though, the one who wakes up at 8 instead of 11, sleeps at 10 instead of 2, who uses way less internet and is somehow less offhand. But in exchange, there will be more goofiness, greater displays of affection.
There is a bittersweet disparity between Mike and I, in how we are received in our partner nations, Mike is adored in India, I am accepted in the US. But I suppose my personality does not lend itself to adoration in any circumstance. I would have better luck being admired.