Steph Not Stephanie

After much cajoling, I have finally convinced my good friend Sachin to write some guest posts for me. As a bit of background, I’ve known Sach since first year university, and he is an avid reader/frequent nagger when he feels I’m not posting enough. He is going to be writing a series of posts for your enjoyment, and reflective of the nature of our relationship, I am going to do things a bit differently. Sachin takes pleasure in antagonizing me (in the most loving way), so I am going to interject with my thoughts and responses throughout his posts in italics. 

To give you an idea of my relationship with Sachin, let me paint you a picture. Way back in first year university, we were out at the pub one night. My high school boyfriend and I had decided to make the long-distance relationship work, but it wasn’t exactly easy. One of my new friends from residence had a bit of a thing for me, and decided the best tactic would be to tell Drunk Steph that my boyfriend was cheating on me at that exact moment, so I might as well hook up with him. Cue tears. At the bar. While my roommate was dead asleep on the picnic table on the patio. Luckily, Sachin had just come (sober) from a rugby game, so he mopped up my drunken tears, reassured me that the love of my life was not, in fact, cheating on me, and made sure that I did not do anything foolish in retaliation (much to our friend’s disappointment, I am sure). Thirteen years later, we’re still turning to each other for advice and sharing ridiculous stories — only with decidedly less tears. Note: Yes, he intentionally calls me Stef. Yes, it drives me crazy, and no, no one else may do so. 

Every hero has an origin story. While the usual heroine of our story is busy being happy (barf), she’s asked me to try and keep her readers entertained. Sadly, this first one will be less about dating and more about how I’ve got here.

I’ve had the pleasure of knowing Stef since September 2001. Unluckily for her, my roommate and I lived directly above her at York, and we both loved basketball. It was especially fun for her Friday mornings at 9:30 when my roommate and I would dribble basketballs while she was still sleeping.

(Sure, ‘fun’ is close to the word I used at the time. It started with the same two letters and was followed by ‘off.’ Same same, but different.)

I grew up in a very small town in the 80s and 90s. Being the only Indian family in town wasn’t easy. First off, the way my name is said in India is Such-in. But growing up in Canada it was changed to Sash-in. Small difference, but like a small detail in Harry Potter, it becomes important in a future blog. The Such-in pronunciation would make my twitter name of @Sachinsanity so much better though.

(Once, out of pity when I was tragically crushing on someone who was clearly not interested, Sachin gave me language lessons. I was so drunk I can’t remember a word he said, and he has refused to do so again ever since. If anyone finds themselves in a similar situation, I beg you to record that shit.) 

So what are my super powers? I’m eclectic in everything I like. I’m as comfortable playing a rugby game as I am watching a musical. My favourite bands are the Foo Fighters and S Club 7. But I’m much more comfortable hanging with friends playing games than I am heading to clubs. There sure are very few girls to meet while playing Mario Kart 8 with my friends.

(Wait, we get super powers? Do I have super powers? Bad Date Girl? That seems like an extremely shitty option.) 

Which leads us to Stef introducing me to Tinder™. But that will have to wait until next time. Hopefully you found this post somewhat entertaining and you’ll be back for more. Also keep in mind I’ve known Stef for over 13 years and have many embarrassing stories about her.

(True fact. However, I know my fair share of embarrassing details about Sach, and we have a lot of mutual friends. Just sayin’.)