When I had the first party at my apartment after moving out, everyone showed up in slacks and nice outfits. Not me, I was wearing holey jeans, sandals...and a faded sweat shirt. The comments that night about how I had dressed brought alot of ribbing. It didn't bother me though, I was the host and this was the real me. I was burned out on Banana Republic or one of the other stores for the fashion conscious.The few dates I had I always dressed immaculate for. No jeans or faded shirts. I still had. To my surprise, Anjali parked right in front of me in her sports car. Rolled down her window.“Hi, Hasan how are you, where you off to?”This was the first time Anjali did not greet me with ‘salaam’. I knew that the formalities were now out of the window.“I’m fine, thank you. I just went to pick up some bits and bobs. I’ll be heading back home tomorrow to meet the family. How’s Shivani?”“She’s fine. Anyway, get in I’ll give you a lift, it looks like it will soon rain.”Unwilling to decline the. More

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