There are certain things to which a man is accustomed. There are also certain things to which only I am accustomed. Let me provide you with an example of each: breathing and constant updates regarding the life and going-ons of Dr. Sanjay Gupta. If you are not familiar with Dr. Gupta, he is a neurosurgeon and enough of an authority on everything involving your health to talk about it on cable news. He's also, apparently, one of the sexiest men alive. The reason I know these things is because people around me decided, long ago, that every time they see Dr. Sanjay Gupta they ought to inform me, probably because they were totally wowed that I wasn't the only person in the world named Sanjay. Having never thought or had reason to think my name was out of the ordinary, the mere existance of Sanjay Gupta never really interested me, sexy doctor or not. I never broke it to my informers that they could be infroming me about way more interesting stuff, so the updates continued.

For reasons I did not initially understand, the updates suddenly stopped coming. I haven't heard about what Sanjay Gupta has been up to in at least a year. I only realized recently that I miss him. I decided to use my powers of reasoning to figure out why people stopped telling me up to what is he. I figured that either:

Sanjay Gupta has died
OR
People realized that instances of Indianness are, to me, neither novel or inherently interesting.

Given how many people told me about Bride and Prejudice and disjunctive syllogism , this seems like the only appropriate thing to do:

That's me pouring a 40 on the curb for Dr. Sanjay Gupta. Anyway, guys, about Bride and Prejudice: Telling me about Bride and Prejudice existing makes about as much sense as telling me about Clueless existing. My lack of interest in Jane Austen movies vastly surpasses my interest in what every Indian person in the world is doing. So, in conclusion, I'm sorry, Sanjay Gupta, for your drop from most eligible bachelor to least. I miss you and I'll continue to miss you.