A feminist by any other name…
Delhiwallas hit on you
Mumbai men check you out
Bangalore’s dudes stare in open admiration
Chennai guys ogle
…..and when I smile, the coffee-bar guy gives me a mug full of warm, liquid chocolate to pour as I like into my drink. The men from the office complex adjoining mine turn their heads as I whip past. It all makes me wonder why I make an effort anyway.
I mean, while at it, I have the attention right where I can do what I like with it. Some of them will put up with anything I dish out (and this I know from experience). Why then, should I pretend to have a brain or good sense? I most certainly don’t have at least one of those two, given the romantic choices I make. I may as well settle for being an ogle-worthy ‘girl’.
It’s a stark realisation that I really care very little of what men think of me anymore. I didn’t care two hoots what the last few people I dated thought of my job, my writing or my friends. Since these are practically all that matters to me, it follows that any opinion that doesn’t matter, doesn’t merit the time and energy required to garner it. Let alone the heartache of being misjudged.
Why bother anymore over being honest and fair to a species that doesn’t want it anyway?
At the risk of sounding extremely cynical here’s my quotable quote for the week (which I actually said last week):
Brain, heart, penis – only two of those things can exist in a human being simultaneously.
Call me a feminist by all means now. Who cares?