Category Archives: On a lighter note..
Who says women don’t have a sense of humour?
I’ve really spent 2012 so self-absorbed, haven’t I? In my defense, I got into the utlra hot-and-heavy of commitment, did the deep soul-searching that everyone does after getting engaged (don’t they?), hit rock bottom with a break-up, wrote plenty of mournful stuff, bored myself and got back with the ‘Really now, are you over *all* the drama finally?’ and here I am. So yes, I haven’t really spent much of the year looking at other people and their relationships and what they think of them. But a new year is here with new people, new problems and adventures of the heart. And I’m promising to bring back the social butterfly that I and this blog have always been. Let’s start with a round-up of interesting reads:
- “When a woman is the sum total of her headscarf and hymen – that is, what’s on her head and what is between her legs – then nakedness and sex become weapons of political resistance.” A thought-provoking article on the objectification of women’s bodies. ‘Nudity, Niqab and the Illusion of Free Choice‘ (via The Express Tribune Blogs)
- I’m most intrigued by no.4. We never seem to think of condescension & sarcasm as would-be abuser traits. These seem to be cool & attractive behaviour, drawing us in like flies to honey. ‘Are You Dating An Abuser?‘ (via Psychology Today)
- ‘The Subtext Of An Entire Relationship In 4 Minutes‘ (via TheFrisky)
- Some surprises here on what guys do on Facebook before dating the girl: ‘10 Ways Guys Use Facebook For Their Dating Lifes‘. (via HowAboutWe)
- A great answer to ‘What Do Guys Wish Girls Knew?’ (via Quora)
- When do you google your date? The obvious answer was ‘before the first date’. But I’ve been meeting so many familiar strangers on account of social media that I find I only google after a couple of dates now. ‘Poll: When Do You Google A Date?‘ (via HowAboutWe)
- Ever notice how Satan’s head bears an uncanny resemblance to the female reproductive system? (via 10 Daily Things)
- Cosmopolitan’s hilarious and terribly wrong sex advice (via Uptown Magazine)
- What the dating guide has to say about Facebook: ‘When Is It Okay To Friend Someone You’re Casually Dating?‘ (via HowAboutWe)
- A study says bisexual women are likelier to be abused/raped. This article points out a few holes in that theory. (via Thought Catalog)
- 25 Things You Wish You Could Ask Someone On A First Date (via Thought Catalog)
* Inspired by Date A Girl Who Reads.
Date a guy who has sisters. Preferably a middle child, so he knows what it’s like to look up to as well as look over (sometimes overlook) women. Hope that they’re the kind of women you’d like because it’ll be like having that many more mothers-in-law. Take solace in the fact that PMS & the fact that women get puffier, then sleeker in a matter of days, will not come as a complete surprise to him. On the other hand, remember you might need to teach him that women have not been put on earth for his exclusive service. Mostly, it’s a worthwhile trade-off.
Date a guy who doesn’t worship his mother. It may be a herculean task to find such a man in India where ‘mama’s boy’ is a badge borne with pride, not embarrassment. Still, look for him. You may also get thrown off by an odd dysfunctional specimen who actually hates the woman that he popped out of. You’re looking for a fine balance here – that rare guy who understands everyone has foibles, everybody is human. If he can see his mother through the same lens that he uses on the rest of the world, hang on to him for dear life because he’s the one person who’ll treat you as a complete human being, not an assortment of body parts that he likes.
Date a guy who’s a father figure. Find him in a classroom or a coffeeshop. He’ll be listening intently (or he may not look it) but the woman next to him will always be talking. If he’s looking at her, he’ll be looking into her face. If not, he’s probably staring at his coffee but he’ll give a slight nod every now and then. He’ll make sure to be on the side of the traffic while crossing the road or even walking on it. He may not open doors for you but he’ll keep a constant eye on you as you walk across the floor to the restroom. And when you return, his response will be inversely proportional to the ones of the other men around. He might even lecture you a bit on dressing, walking or talking. Fight with him for your independence. Fight for space. Fight for your own time. Fight for your right to your opinion. Fight in every way possible. Stomp off in a temper. You’ll know you’ve found him when you turn and discover he’s following you quietly, at a respectable distance till you get to a safe place. And go back to him. Because even the most independent of women love their daddies.
Date a guy who’s had a lot of girlfriends. Look for him when he’s slightly past his prime. Wait till he has exhausted his bag of tricks on the women before you and tired of the games. Hold your counsel when he tries them on you. He can’t help it; it’s habit. But it’s like dying embers – keep it stoked just to the level that you like. Ask him about his past. No matter how discreet he insists he is, it can be done. Remember, he’s been a collector and old collectors love to tell their stories. Let him regale you with his escapades and bite back your jealousy and ego bruises. Then, after he’s began talking, when he takes a break to breathe and get a drink, tell him your conditions. Seal the deal then. You’ll need to keep listening to his stories for the rest of your life but remember, you’re the one he’s telling stories to.
Date a man with a lady boss. Date a guy who’s the only one in a team of women. Date a man who works in a woman-centric industry. Date a guy whose job it is deal with only women – like a bra salesman. Guys who have to rub shoulders with the everyday nature of women. Who have to deal with ambition, pettiness, stupidity, greed and every other human trait – in women, on a daily basis.
Date a gynecologist. Date a psychiatrist. Date a counselor. Date a teacher.
Date a man who knows women.
Let’s do the dating thing.
I’ll ask you out. You’ll respond with a surprising
“Yeah sure, why not?”
I’ll hug myself in glee.
We’ll meet for a coffee that turns into drinks instead because we both got late. A mid-distant, not too noisy, not too intimate cafe that seems perfect, right until we get there. Each of us will get there on time, then wonder if this reeks of desperation. But we’ll greet each other like it’s just another one of the many ordinary things in the day.
As we wait for our order to arrive, we’ll run through the usual list of things slight acquaintances talk about after hello – the weather, the traffic, people we know, your job, my job and again people we know. Then you or I will say or do something incredibly wrong. Can you take the saying wrong part please? I’m rather proud of my words but I have no ego vested in my physical grace. That’s settled then. You can say something slightly sexist, racist, homophobic or politically-incorrect. I’ll trip over my ballerina flats, knock over my glass and fidget on the fake leather cushion, making weird, embarrassing sounds. We’ll each realize it only after it’s been done and be embarrassed but also slightly relieved at the other one’s faux pas. You can charm me by not noticing my clumsiness and I’ll impress you with my cool intelligence as we navigate our way out of embarrassment.
We’ll both settle into the delicious comfort of ‘I-like-this-person-so-much!’ before we realize it’s only a date, not even that, it was only supposed to be coffee. We’ll focus on our drinks-not-coffee for a long minute, hoping to cover up the unmentionable, companionable silence we just shared. This time you can drop the plate while I say something incredibly stupid (“Doesn’t beer taste just like piss?” and that’s what you’re drinking). We’ll both catch each other’s eye and laugh. But it won’t be the same thing. It will be the laugh of,
“Yeah, the same thing.”
Now that we’ve read each other cues correctly, we’ll launch into our next big talkfest as we both try to make sure this isn’t a total waste of time. News, local affairs, sports, books, music and an occasional bit of word play thrown in for good measure. This is supposed to be fun after all and we’ll both be working zealously hard to make sure we’re having it, being it. That should carry us through another 45 minutes or so. We really do get along quite nicely.
When the bill arrives, the waiter will put it down in front of you (they always do in India, no matter who did the ordering). I’ll do the awkward grab and you might do a smooth slip-slide so it’s in your lap and my hand doesn’t go all there (horrors, even I couldn’t be *that* gauche). I’ll gulp and hope you don’t mistake my clumsiness for cheapness so I’ll insist, probably more forcefully than I need to, that I asked you out after all. And in the split second that follows as you hand over your credit card, you’ll look away and we’ll both know, it’s over – the date and everything that was great about it. Because someone pointed out what it was, it stopped being a fun game of emotional hide-and-seek.
When we walk out, you’ll probably not remember to (or want to) hold the door and step aside for me. I’ll frown wondering which it is and try to remember how it was when we walked in. Not that it’s supposed to matter; I’m a liberated woman after all. Still, I’ll wonder.
You’ll turn to me, a fraction too soon for it to be regular, a little too late to be chivalry. And you’ll be searching for the same thing I was, a second ago, that crucial second that we’re now off-sync. You’ll catch my frown as it goes and since it’s not as charming as my smile, you’ll turn away without speaking. As I step up next to you, we’ll look at each other, smiles in place. But no matter, I’m only charming inadvertently. And your aloofness is not looking that hot either.
We’ll say goodbye and look for transport in different directions. But just as I think I’ll never hear from you again, you’ll stick your head out. And then, despite myself, I’ll find myself telling you that I really did have a lovely time. You’ll say,
with an expression that makes me melt in the seconds you never catch because your cab zoomed away.
And that’s how it goes. Magic created and lost in moments, like the sparkles on the sea under the sun. You can’t catch it and you can’t find it, once you know you’re looking for it. But you’re briefly, tantalizingly touched with the power of what might have been, what might still be. And this was just supposed to be coffee, just a dating thing.
I have had a startling revelation that will revolutionize the way we look at relationships and well, men!
Everyone knows Bad Boys are bad news. Meh, that’s last century’s news. And yet – or possibly exactly for that reason – we are drawn to them and spend a considerable bit of our prime chasing illusions of acquaintanceship with them. But of course theBad Boy breaks our heart. That’s what he’s supposed to do. Then we sigh and move on….to another Bad Boy.
The cycle, seemingly fatalistic has one way out – or so we are told. As maturity (or possibly too much heartache) sets in, we shed our illusions of wild, fast, furious, exciting love and pledge our troth to another kind of man altogether. Enter the Good Boy.
From a love-lifetime of having experienced Bad Boys, we automatically conclude that we know his exact opposite completely. NOT TRUE!
The Good Boy is not necessarily Prince Charming, either. He doesn’t get romance and tenderness any more instinctively than the Bad Boy. The Good Boy‘s connection to mama will be elevated to monumental proportions (in that there will be a shrine to mama) while in the case of the Bad Boy, it was only an excuse for his bad behavior.
What’s worse, I’m discovering, there is a price to be paid, a fee if you will, for life’s lessons. So after going through the Bad Boys, you come to the Good Boy expecting to be healed and kissed and made alright.
Instead you come up against a formidable presence that requires your clearing up your messes before you step onto his carpet, so to speak. There’s no sympathy forthcoming (and I’m about to believe this is the version of sulking that Good Boys prefer). It’s time to play hardball (again!) and negotiate.
These aren’t ruthless. Of course not, these are Good Boys after all. But there is negotiation nevertheless. And there’s the overwhelming sense of guilt and foolishness hanging over your own head for your past mistakes. Obviously you’re coming to the table with a weak hand.
I’m thinking the whole thing is a set-up. The Bad Boy is nothing more than marketing spiel to get our defenses dulled and weakened in time for the Good Boy to close in and finalize a deal that’s sweet to him.
GAH!!! Good or bad, a man may never be what he seems.
What are you supposed to think when you come across pictures of a former crush and discover that he married a girl who looks just like you?
Being in a relationship, it’s not easy at all. No one said it would be easy. Umm, actually it was implied. Love as the grand jackpot waiting for you if you played your cards right. That was a big hoax.
It’s more like having intergalactic negotiations suspended in the far reaches of outer space. You speak a different language from the entity seated at the other end of the table (or whatever it is they use in intergalactic negotiations). You have a few handy tools, sights reported by those who’ve been there. But it’s not until you shoot in through that door you realize something fundamental. None of those sightings have been of this particular alien. They’re all of the hundreds and thousands of other life forms that are alien to you and each one, like this one is different. You’re all on your own now.
No way to tell if they’re hostile or friendly. No way to interpret what a gesture is intended to convey and what your response will trigger. How then, is trust, a hidden but integral part of any negotiation, learned? You take a chance and dive the heck in.
Gridlocks happen, just as in every kind of negotiation. Confusion and mayhem may reign. Each side may leave much worse for the wear and just a bit poorer. And yet we continue to strive for exploration, for communication, for connection, for peace and harmony. It is the very stuff of life after all.
Besides, did you catch a glimpse of the stars when you were out there? You’re so small, such an insignificant speck in the galaxy. But it was you out there on that dangerous, volatile, gut-clenching adventure called LOVE. You earned your place in the cosmos.