Moral science in America-2

This other flatmate, Binoy, had a habit of asking too many questions. I'd be watching Sex and the City and he'd ask me,

'Do all women really just want to sleep around?'

And I'd say, ' Of course not. Just sleeping around is not what these women are doing.' 

'Looks to me like thats all they do on this show. Do you know any women who live like this?'

No, but I did  know of many women who tried to live like that and many others who wanted  to live like that, just so that they could have all those shoes. But I didn't tell him that. What an idiot. Stupid, conservative oaf.

But again, that didn't fit either. He was neither stupid, nor conservative. He was a non drinker, but I had seen him frequently in bars around campus with other people who, in spite of having an economic advantage, didn't know how to dress. He always drank milk. He was part of the debating society, whose contests I liked to attend and he was always bold and maverick in whatever side he took, be it abortion (pro choice!), Iraq ('Bush is a jackass but Iraq had to happen'), prostitution ('of course, it should be legalized) or wheat grass juice ('Bullshit!').

 But still, when he asked me why I only used beautiful people to pose for my pictures ( A good photographer should be able to bring out the best of anyone, right?) or when he laughed about my boycotting the kitchen because it tied up women ('Thats silly, what are you gonna do about food for the rest of your life?'), my blood would boil and I would hate him with such a vehemence, it was all I could do to get out of the room. 

Alan, much to my indignation, liked the guy. They would spend hours discussing Carl Sagan's Cosmos or the life of Bob Dylan and such things and during these times, Alan never even noticed his terribly thick accent, how he had a tendency to stretch and draw out sentences and the really strange facial contortions he managed to pull while making the average sentence. I  felt embarrassed for him on each of these accounts and always worked myself into a severe disgust, especially when he directed his excessive rationalism toward me. 

He managed to find out (from me) that my parents knew nothing of Alan and once had the audacity to ask me what they would think if they found out. He laughed at me till his sides split when I couldn't tell that the cheap $12 wine from the corner store wasn't expensive French wine, as he had pitched it. The last straw was when he said that most movies these days merely entertained you while keeping you ignorant, I lost it. Nobody has any right to say that about  a movie with Christian Bale in it.

I begged...O, how I begged! I pouted, I tried holding back the goods, I did every thing I could possibly think of. But Alan flatly said no, we weren't going to move. Both the rent and the location were too good to be true. Then I screamed and shouted. If I had to stay, Binoy would have to leave. It was a strategy of overwhelming force, I planned my arguments against him, I screamed at him, I insulted him, his family and the town he was from. But nothing worked, Binoy barely gave me any notice and refused to budge. The rent and the location were too good to be true. Eventually, I started worrying that Alan might dump me for being a bitch so I decided to pipe down. 

However my issues with Binoy didn't hold a candle to Venkat's.