Perhaps, the greatest joy in life is to be in love and to be loved. In my case I never had a chance to have it both. When I’m in love, I can’t be loved and when I’m being loved, I just can’t be in love. Nevertheless, love knocks many times in my life. Sometimes, it comes through the main door and no doubt I welcomed it with an ear to ear smile. At times, it sneaks in through the back door, giving me a nightmare and trouble my sleep but most of the time love prefers to peek me from outside my window and left as soon as it hears me saying ‘Better luck next time’. Some say it could be lust,some blame it on infatuation and all of its kind, but then what does real love means? Waiting for him to respond for 10 years and still hoping that he will one day? I’ll rather call it optimism than to give it the love badge. Or is it like the one depicted in movies where the hero smack the villain’s head and finally wins out the dream girl of the town? I’ll call it something else. Or it just the testosterone and estrogen playing hide and seek as claimed by the bald professor guy next to me? I have come to a point that I don’t know what love means anymore and to be exact I’m not really sure whether true love still exist or not. But its just too obvious that right now there’s a bunch of Indian mothers sitting cross legged, staring at their finger nails and telling me ‘Let us handle your love story honey, you just have to pick up your wedding gown. Everything else assured’. That freaks me out, but for now let the ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign hang on my doorknob a little longer, yeah a little longer.