Monthly Archives: February 2007

Manguide 2: Professionals

Having looked at men by places, let’s classify them by profession now. After all what you do/study does as much influence you as where you call home. Once again I pull from my varied experiences with men….mostly men I’ve dated but also men I’ve been friends with, studied with, worked with and oh…not to mention the ones my friends dated (ah yes, I know a fair bit about this group too, even while they mayn’t even know that I exist. I’ve spoken of the Formidable Friend earlier.)

So here are some of the types of men you’re likely to run into:

The Engineer: This describes most of the men I’ve dated so it might follow that I particularly like this type. Or that they like me. Well. Mostly this lot likes to pretend that they’re starved for female company. The nice thing about these guys is that they are generally bright and interesting. At least initially they’re really nice to you, on account of being in the company of a ‘non-male’ as they like to describe their female classmates. Sub-classifications: Mechanical/Production – the rawest of the lot in their language but in my esteemed opinion the most intelligent. Right after that Civil/Electrical. At the bottom but smart nevertheless are the flashy Electronics/Computers guys.

The Software Geek/ Techie: Since I hail from the land of idlis, kanjeevarams and the Great Indian Software Dream, it follows that I’ve so much interaction with this sort that I should practically exhale code. Black sheep I am though and I’ve managed to neatly evade marriage by shutting out this specimen altogether. That doesn’t stop them from swarming all over my life. So this is a man who can give an opponent a tough run for his money….except computers don’t have wallets. In a study done somewhere by somebody, they asked a group of different people to draw an image of how they saw themselves. All the IT nerds drew a computer monitor. They have money (and paunches straining under the Infy tees), the drive too…but oh well, do you want to date a machine?

The Artist: I’ve never actually dated this type but they make for really interesting conversationalists. Well at least, they’re emotional men or they do a damned better job of pretending to be than the rest of their clan. Musicians, actors, painters, writers…..men who create are certainly worthy of respect. The bohemian garb appeals to my non-conformist side but an occasional shave would be much appreciated.

The Accountant: Blech. Blech. Blech. Need I say more? I’d like a guy to admire my figure, not tell me how much I’m worth in rupee terms.

The M.B.A.: Ah, this is the sort I run into most often……the country is swarming with them!!!!!!! Of course I should probably sub-classify them. The smooth-talkers have to be the Marketing guys, the silent (and often interesting) types studied Operations (yup, that’s a b-school degree too), the yawn-yawn ones are Finance and the Systems guys are well…refer to the Techie.

The pedigreed pup: Okay, have the IIMs developed a special lab and began breeding like crazy? I’m jumping into hot water here since every third person I meet (and who reads my blog) seems to have a pedigree. I should caveat (don’t we love that word? Aha…I learn something from my boyfriends after all!)….I do know a few rare exceptions but most of the pedigreed pups I know are insufferable jackasses. Please sir, a degree does not make you God’s gift to womankind. I inevitably gravitate to some of these types myself….after all we do like men with ambition, drive and success. But the overcompetitiveness really gets to me. When a pedigreed sort told me recently that women loved him because they thought he was rich, I thought twice about dating him…..I’m neither a gold-digger nor an carefully evaluated-for-worth showpiece.

The agencywalla: These guys are fun. And fast. Ask me, I know more of them than my fair share….like calls to like doesn’t it? They party hard…but its a common myth that they work hard. And well, if you looked up the dictionary for ‘burnout’ you just might find a picture of your beau there. Oh but wait, did you have a chance to look at his face before he whizzed off to the next coffee shop/restobar/pub/DJ contest/concert/rave party?

The Architect: Ah, my second favorite! This guy combines the best of the Engineer and the Artist. He understands science and art (or at least has been taught to). He does have an opinion and is generally confident (watching your entire week’s effort getting ripped apart in front of the class and thrown into the bin has a way of toughening the weakest, I presume). I’ve liked every single architect I’ve met. They’re all strongly individualistic, intelligent and deeply practical. Takes a lot to survive in this industry or so I hear. You mayn’t have enough left for quality time or even big money, though.

The Entrepreneur: Uh, where did you meet this fella? Oh, when he was standing behind you at the billing counter? You thought he was checking you out? Well no, I’ll bet he was trying to figure out what billing software they used so he could try out something like that himself. This is a man who is driven, very, very strongly by a dream. No let me re-word that. He’s in love with that dream. You can be an accessory in his life and maybe he’ll be really nice but you’ll never be the love of his life. He’s already married to it. And believe me, its almost as bad as another woman. You can’t even throw catty comments at his work….they’ll just bounce off him or he’ll get fed up of the nagging and stay later at work.

The Hotelier: Why would you want to date a guy who works when everyone else parties? Late nights, weekends, holidays, festivals? Oh could it be because he looks dapper all the time? Or his smooth manners and courtesy? Well, if you’re looking for a James Bond who knows about housework (but doesn’t necessarily do it), I suggest you plan on becoming Mrs.Hotelier.

The Family Business guy: Umm…..this sort is generally married and papa to two kids by his late twenties, so what on earth are you doing with him?

Advertisements

I can be anything you want me to be….

Click on the image to enlarge.

x.JPG

A shoulder to cry on

An email conversation

IdeaSmith writes:
Re: Sleep deprivation affects performance

Hmph….I so wish the powers-that-be would believe in this.

Fresh update:
The trip is off. Z isn’t taking my calls. Everyone in office is out for lunch while I await an angry client’s call. I have a stomach upset. And I’m glad you’re not on the phone and having to listen to my crib-fest.

Love,
~I~

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Five minutes later, there’s a new mail.
Re: Re: Sleep deprivation affects performance

Assuming I was on the phone, this is what I would say:

a. I’m sure you’ll get to to France some other time. Enjoy the London bit completely. See if you can afford to pay a little extra and stay on for a few more days. AB was there a few months back. Check with her or let me know if you want me to connect with her.

b. All men-whether Z or A are insensitive pigs…let them be !

c. An angry client is better than an irritating bf. At least he is speaking to you. I am sure you’ll handle him.

d. The stomach upset is because of a, b and c. Not one of these are worth losing your sleep or ruining your health over. Eat something, go home and sleep early and everything will seem a hundred times better tomorrow.

Since I am not :

e.I am glad about point 5 too…:)

P.s. Call me whenever you want to.Unlike the other Z, I’ll definitely try and answer your call .. 🙂

– Z

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

I definitely know all of those. But hearing it from someone else can make the difference about actually believing it. And remind you of why one close girlfriend is worth at least 20 boyfriends.

10 things a man ought to know but doesn't…and counting

Men are seriously amusing. So brilliant in some areas and in some other areas, unbelievably….shall I say the word? I mean, I’ve been writing this blog for a long time now. It’s almost as popular as my ‘main blog’ (with none of the effort I put in there) and my readership is predominantly male. I’ve been argued with, slammed, confronted, wooed and even dated by some of the guys who’ve read this blog. And yet after all that, they assume I’m a man-hating feminist. It takes just one smart woman to observe that (and I really like this):

This isn’t a blog written by a man-hating woman. It is written by a woman who loves men….very much. And she has strong ideas and expresses them.

Thank you Melody….whoever said a woman was worth a thousand men must have been thinking of you.

Coming back to the real thought behind this post, I’ve had the most amusing conversation in recent times. I have this little quiz of my own that I run on some men. It is supposed to test how much men really know about women. No, it isn’t one of those high-fundoo psycho-babble things…these are questions based on everyday factual stuff and paraphernalia that surround a woman (and that any man who’s had a girlfriend, sister or spouse would have had a chance to learn about at least).

Needless to say I get mostly wrong answers. Some of them are plain howl-arious! This is an interview with a highly pedigreed, supposedly super-intelligent male friend who claims to have had an indecently high number of girlfriends. Read on to see how Mr.Smart did….

1. How is bra size measured and what does it mean?

34, 36 A B C D…something!

He had no clue what they meant though. To be fair, this is something a lot of women can’t answer, either. But you would think that with most men’s obsession with that part of the anatomy concerned with this garment…oh well.

2. Name three types of heels used in women’s footwear.

Stilts. And still-toes. Flats. Platforms. These are the thick, flat things.

After I’d gotten over laughing over the still-toes thing, I informed him that flats were a lack of heels and hence technically not a heel type at all. He pouted a bit but I appeased him by promising him a 1/3rd mark for the platforms answer.

Considering most men think that heels make a women’s legs look sexier, I really think they should take some time understanding the different heel-types. Besides being able to empathise with aching calves, itchy undersoles and the like, they’ll have a better defense against a heel that might land on their faces if they understand it well.

3. What do ‘apple’ and ‘pear’ mean with regard to a woman’s appearance?

Pears mean the bust. Apples are for apple-cheeks.

I died laughing. But I came back to tell him what the right answer was.

4. What is liposuction?

This is the one answer Mr.Smart got right. In fact he was even able to tell me about botox, its chemical properties and its effect on skin. Not more than what I would have expected considering his background in chemistry but well, let me pat him on the back for the first completely right answer.

5. What is Prozac?

Something like mosaic (pronounced ‘muzak’). A collection of pictures?

Am I correct in saying men are the prime reason Prozac is in existance? Of course I am. I’m always right.

6. What’s mascara used for?

It’s something you put all over your face (accompanied by face-rubbing action). No wait, that’s rouge (ain’t that quaint? My first-standard teacher used to say that). Mascara…is it eye-liner? (firm shake of the head from me). Umm….it’s that eye-polisher….no, eye-lid polisher (with huge waving gestures from eyes out into space)

What say ladies? Shall I give him this one?

7. What are garters?

Absolutely no clue. I shudder to think of the ideas that might have run through his head in relation to this one. Khee khee khee…if only he knew! Incidentally how many women know the right answer to this one?

8. What’s a halter-neck?

That stuff that came off Carol Gracias on the ramp and showed off her fantastic “….” to the world.

This one he got right. And he was man enough to admit that the only way he knew about it was because he’d read about Carol’s wardrobe malfunction.

9. Do you know what bangs are?

A sports-bra!

I was more amused by the fact that he knew of sports-bras even if in the totally wrong context. He had no idea of course and stayed dumb-founded as I prompted “I have them! Lots of people have seen them!”

That made him stare at me goggle-eyed so I hastened to clarify (as I will here for the sake of you perverts out there…). Bangs are the locks of hair that fall onto a woman’s forehead. Fringes, stray curls or even a few strands of hair coming loose from the hairstyle and hanging above the eye-brows…constitute bangs.

10. What are areola?

The blue sky over the arctic circle.

To be quite sure, I didn’t phrase the question correctly and when he asked for the spelling I mispelt it as well. Let’s take this one off until I learn to word it better. But I’m amazed he had an answer. Hmm…men usually have an answer, it just isn’t the right one.

I was right after all. By my count, Mr.Smart scored a 3-and-1/3rd. Hmph.

This list, by the way, is something I’ve been thinking up at the spur of the moment and adding to, with each quiz. I’ve finally reached 10 questions. Ladies, if you think up any more things that a man who’s been around women should know, drop me a note here. Men, well….what do you have to say for yourselves?

10 things a man ought to know but doesn’t…and counting

Men are seriously amusing. So brilliant in some areas and in some other areas, unbelievably….shall I say the word? I mean, I’ve been writing this blog for a long time now. It’s almost as popular as my ‘main blog’ (with none of the effort I put in there) and my readership is predominantly male. I’ve been argued with, slammed, confronted, wooed and even dated by some of the guys who’ve read this blog. And yet after all that, they assume I’m a man-hating feminist. It takes just one smart woman to observe that (and I really like this):

This isn’t a blog written by a man-hating woman. It is written by a woman who loves men….very much. And she has strong ideas and expresses them.

Thank you Melody….whoever said a woman was worth a thousand men must have been thinking of you.

Coming back to the real thought behind this post, I’ve had the most amusing conversation in recent times. I have this little quiz of my own that I run on some men. It is supposed to test how much men really know about women. No, it isn’t one of those high-fundoo psycho-babble things…these are questions based on everyday factual stuff and paraphernalia that surround a woman (and that any man who’s had a girlfriend, sister or spouse would have had a chance to learn about at least).

Needless to say I get mostly wrong answers. Some of them are plain howl-arious! This is an interview with a highly pedigreed, supposedly super-intelligent male friend who claims to have had an indecently high number of girlfriends. Read on to see how Mr.Smart did….

1. How is bra size measured and what does it mean?

34, 36 A B C D…something!

He had no clue what they meant though. To be fair, this is something a lot of women can’t answer, either. But you would think that with most men’s obsession with that part of the anatomy concerned with this garment…oh well.

2. Name three types of heels used in women’s footwear.

Stilts. And still-toes. Flats. Platforms. These are the thick, flat things.

After I’d gotten over laughing over the still-toes thing, I informed him that flats were a lack of heels and hence technically not a heel type at all. He pouted a bit but I appeased him by promising him a 1/3rd mark for the platforms answer.

Considering most men think that heels make a women’s legs look sexier, I really think they should take some time understanding the different heel-types. Besides being able to empathise with aching calves, itchy undersoles and the like, they’ll have a better defense against a heel that might land on their faces if they understand it well.

3. What do ‘apple’ and ‘pear’ mean with regard to a woman’s appearance?

Pears mean the bust. Apples are for apple-cheeks.

I died laughing. But I came back to tell him what the right answer was.

4. What is liposuction?

This is the one answer Mr.Smart got right. In fact he was even able to tell me about botox, its chemical properties and its effect on skin. Not more than what I would have expected considering his background in chemistry but well, let me pat him on the back for the first completely right answer.

5. What is Prozac?

Something like mosaic (pronounced ‘muzak’). A collection of pictures?

Am I correct in saying men are the prime reason Prozac is in existance? Of course I am. I’m always right.

6. What’s mascara used for?

It’s something you put all over your face (accompanied by face-rubbing action). No wait, that’s rouge (ain’t that quaint? My first-standard teacher used to say that). Mascara…is it eye-liner? (firm shake of the head from me). Umm….it’s that eye-polisher….no, eye-lid polisher (with huge waving gestures from eyes out into space)

What say ladies? Shall I give him this one?

7. What are garters?

Absolutely no clue. I shudder to think of the ideas that might have run through his head in relation to this one. Khee khee khee…if only he knew! Incidentally how many women know the right answer to this one?

8. What’s a halter-neck?

That stuff that came off Carol Gracias on the ramp and showed off her fantastic “….” to the world.

This one he got right. And he was man enough to admit that the only way he knew about it was because he’d read about Carol’s wardrobe malfunction.

9. Do you know what bangs are?

A sports-bra!

I was more amused by the fact that he knew of sports-bras even if in the totally wrong context. He had no idea of course and stayed dumb-founded as I prompted “I have them! Lots of people have seen them!”

That made him stare at me goggle-eyed so I hastened to clarify (as I will here for the sake of you perverts out there…). Bangs are the locks of hair that fall onto a woman’s forehead. Fringes, stray curls or even a few strands of hair coming loose from the hairstyle and hanging above the eye-brows…constitute bangs.

10. What are areola?

The blue sky over the arctic circle.

To be quite sure, I didn’t phrase the question correctly and when he asked for the spelling I mispelt it as well. Let’s take this one off until I learn to word it better. But I’m amazed he had an answer. Hmm…men usually have an answer, it just isn’t the right one.

I was right after all. By my count, Mr.Smart scored a 3-and-1/3rd. Hmph.

This list, by the way, is something I’ve been thinking up at the spur of the moment and adding to, with each quiz. I’ve finally reached 10 questions. Ladies, if you think up any more things that a man who’s been around women should know, drop me a note here. Men, well….what do you have to say for yourselves?

The hat-trick of dating

I watched ‘Hitch’ last night. Only for the 5th time. I love this movie. It is just witty enough to keep the ‘Romantic Comedy’ classification from becoming either too loud or too sappy. And of course Will Smith helps. I always had a thing for men with smart mouths.

In my mind the mark of a good book is that it gives you something new to think about each time you go back to it. I think I’ll use that yardstick for movies as well and ‘Hitch’ meets my standards.

Last night I was thinking of the dating process. The Date Doctor says that 3 dates is all he needs to get the girl to fall in love with the guy. Ah well, whatever. I’ve met enough of the sweepers (“Any guy can sweep any girl off her feet. It just needs the right broom.”) and I’ve cribbed about them before.

What I was really thinking is that do I really want to go beyond those three dates? I don’t want to sound commitment-phobic. Damn, I’ve come up against that thought in 3 of my past posts recently. But it really isn’t that, is it?

I like first dates. I always get a rush meeting a new person. I’m terribly nervous, especially if there’s a long spell between knowing of the person and actually meeting him for the first time. Then I meet him and get over it. I’ve been lucky in that I’ve had very few really bad first dates.

First dates are an excited volley of words for me (and in good cases, from the other person too). Neither one knows the other yet, well enough to tailor what they’re saying to suit the other person. So both people display a bouquet well-chosen from the repertoire of their life. A little sentiment, a little ambition, a little charm, some values, some mischief, some flirting. I love watching myself on first dates. I thoroughly enjoy watching the other person on a first date. I really, really love watching the dynamics between the two people on the first date (even though, flawed my observation is, since I’m one of the two parties on the date).

Second dates are nice in a different way. It’s the entire gamut of

What do you say after you say hello?

which is essentially what the first date was about….learning to say hello in a way that the other person says hello back to you in the same token. Now that the hellos have been said, yes we both know we speak the same language….lets see if we can do something with it? Let’s talk. So let’s examine what you stopped short of saying last time, what I almost blurted out then. And in the process let’s watch each other for what we don’t say and learn to interpret the other’s silences and words.

Third dates in my mind already start losing the tingliness of the first two and get to spicier, meatier aspects. Of life, of the two people concerned, of the ‘we’ll probably see each other again’ thing.

I don’t have anything against steady dating, commitment or relationships. I really don’t. But I really miss the freshness of the first few dates. Hitch says

Don’t measure life by its moments but by the moments that take your breath away.

I’ve barely lived enough then. Take my breath away again and again. Only the same person never does it more than three times in a row. A hat-trick spells the end of the sweep-off-feet experience. I guess by then I’m already sitting on my butt on the ground, wondering what hit me. Well, I haven’t learnt to be nimbler on my feet but I’ve actually started missing the sweep.

hitch.jpg

The Bad Girlfriend

I never learnt how to be a girlfriend. I don’t like being a girlfriend.

I love being a friend, a buddy-girl, a punching bag, a co-conspirator, a worthy opponent and an ally. But the role of girlfriend just never fit me all that well. Could that be a reason for the way all my relationships have ended up? Possible.

What do I mean by this revelation? Well….being a friend, to either sex, a person of any age, in virtually any sort of situation comes naturally to me. I have been blessed with a lot of truly wonderful people across the world who are close to me.

I have people I share an interest with, people I keep running into, people I have nothing in common with but our propensity to argue, people I know the conversation could go anywhere with, people I know I just can’t have any other kind of conversations with. There are classmates, colleagues, blogger-friends, net-friends, ex-turned-friends (yes, a few), fellow booklovers, hanging-out-with buddies, close confidantes, fun groups and soulmates (yes a lot of these!). It took no effort to start up a friendship with these people and there’s no major thinking energy required to keep it up.

As a girlfriend on the other hand, I am never sure just how independent is too independent. When I start dating someone, I suddenly have no clue where to stuff my men-are-such-pigs attitude since the assumption is that if they all were such, I wouldn’t be dating one. I’m naturally argumentative but given that most men can’t handle being beaten or even given competition by a woman (don’t tell me they can….they so CANNOT!)…I try and shut up for a bit. That doesn’t work too well…I’m just too fiery for that.

I’m barely sure how to behave in social situations. I’m just too much of a singleton. That’s not necessarily independent..just a singleton. In social gatherings I like flitting around, group to group, having several one-to-one conversations in a few hours, listen in somewhere and then wander off for a bit myself. I can’t help it…it just is me. Like my astrological element water, I need to be fluid and moving around, without any apparant pattern. Another person doesn’t always fit into this picture. In the rare event that someone does, the kind of surprise it seems to generate from other people is just too much of a nuisance to handle. My best friend and I are both tired of fielding off shock-tinged-with-nastiness comments like “How can you stand her? She’s such a flirt/wallflower!!” Suffice to say these situations get madly complexified with a man.

I’m almost guiltily gleeful after a break-up when I can go back to being my nasty, sharp-tongued self in public. I’m just not the nice sort, especially with the people I am closest to. And the strain of having to be cute-sweet-eternally-blissful with a guy is just too much for me to bear. Oh, the mortification!!! Sweet release…..’catty ex-‘ is a tag that suits me oh, so well!

There’s the whole space bit. Now truthfully I hate it when someone I’m seeing tells me he wants space. That in my mind says “I’ve had enough of you!! Back off!” and I’ve learnt to do just that by running away when I get a whiff of the other’s restlessness. On the other hand, I just realised, I’m rather a restless creature myself. I can’t bear too much closeness after a bit. Ask my family, ask my best friend (don’t bother asking my boyfriends….they all thought it was PMS)…and they’ll tell you I get cranky if I’ve been in their company too long. People who’ve stayed a part of my life a long time are those who’ve learnt to realise it isn’t personal and I just need a little time to mess around alone. Boyfriends never realise such things. Oh well, I don’t want to realise it myself about the person I’m dating so its only fair I suppose.

And finally, I have no clue how people can be friends and lovers at the same time. I seem to be too good a friend to make a good enough girlfriend. I’ve consciously decided to stop being a friend to the men I date. When you find yourself patting the guy’s arm and telling him not to worry…the girl he dumped you for will fall for him someday….you know something’s gone totally awry.

Practice maketh perfect or so I’d have believed. Well this is one area it hasn’t. So much so I think I’d so much rather be single and sparkling than in a steady relationship. Is that committment-phobia? It so is not! It’s ‘girlfriendism-o-phobia’

Reasons A Woman Should Stay Single

A guy I know, takes great pleasure in explaining to me, why he’s sooo thrilled to be a bachelor. According to him, if he were married, he’d have to put up with frequent calls from his wife complaining about the bai/her boss (depending on whether she’s a working wife or not), nagging and general discomfiture.

I have to point out that the above perception is based on his having to field calls from his boss’s wife who apparantly does all of the above. I’ve a good mind to sit his boss down and explain to him the damaging effects that his distatrous desicion (to get married) is having on impressionable young children. Uh…well, friend in question happens to be older than I am, but what the hell, he’s a man…do they ever grow up???

Frankly I am sick and tired of men who crib about the woes of marriage…..I mean most marriages happen because the guy proposed!!! Why do men pursue a women they don’t want after all? Oh well, as I observe, having two heads ought to make you twice as smart, not twice as confused and duhhhhh….

But anyway, who says men listen? The only way to get them to is to speak their language. And keep saying it again and again.

Hence, here goes the top reasons I am happy to be single (yeah, well that’s one hell of a thing to say on V-day but bash on regardless…)

1. I can wear floral skirts and knee-high boots to work and not have to put up with insinuations of how frivolous my job must be. My sense of self-worth, my ego and my value is not under scrutiny or at least subject to any kind of judgement by another person. My experience tells me that any thoughts a woman receives on this from a man whom she’s romantically/sexually involved with is flawed and should be thrown into the dustbin. Women rarely do that though…we tend to care about the opinion of the person we are with and hence ah, I’m saved the catastrophe of having to live with someone else’s screwed-up analysis of me.

2. I can flirt, ogle, lech, fight with, date and generally have fun with whoever I want, whenever I want and however I want. Consider this point in the perspective that I am in my 20s, reasonably attractive, friendly and fun. Put that together with the fact that there seem to be more single men in this demographic than women and tell me if I have an advantage or not?

3. I get wooed, seduced, gifted nice things, poetry written about me and compliments showered. Instead of trouble with in-laws, household maintenance and a bored husband. To quote who was it (?) Mae West perhaps… Katharine Hepburn said, “Why trade in the admiration of a 1000 men for the indifference of one?” Why indeed?

4. Men make an effort for me. They want to look good, sound intelligent and act ‘well’. They even try to impress my family and friends. I don’t have to put up with in-law jokes or a balding, podgy man who wants to believe he’s 21 and needs me to pamper him when he doesn’t feel it.

5. I can read, write, sing, paint, dance, sleep, work, meet my friends, watch movies I want to see alone if I want, travel, attend weddings and family functions, go for concerts. Instead of arranging my schedule around a workaholic husband, instead of sitting around looking pretty for a late-but-protective boyfriend, instead of entertaining an anti-social (okay, not-as-friendly) partner. I have a full life with a lot of people and interests and things to do and I can have all of them in it. Instead of one not-so-fulfiling person who makes my world have to revolve around him.

Having written this post I realise greatly reduces my chances of finding a ‘good man’ (if such a creature exists). I’ve said I’m not a man-hating feminist and I stand by that. I am however, not willing to put up with any less than I think I deserve…especially when the man wants Ms.Perfect. If this sends of the impression that I don’t need a man….well, who needs men like this? I so don’t.

So there!

Bird-watching for the birds

I don’t like being stared at. I am not a particularly pretty bouquet of flowers or a magnificent painting. I want to be seen but not STARED at, unabashedly. It makes me uncomfortable and in some situations it makes me feel like a thing…a sex object yes, but also one with no intrinsic value whatsoever but my stareability quotient.

I’ve taken to staring back. It unnerves most starers since they don’t know how to react when objectified-subject turns around and objectifies them. Recently I was walking around near my office, talking on the phone. I was wearing a pair of new knee-high leather boots with a smart skirt-shirt-beret outfit and verbally preening about it to my friend on the phone. My conversation went something like

Yeah, I finally got that pair yesterday evening! And I’m wearing them today…..I never realised new shoes could give you such a high! Drat, there is a guy staring at me like I’m an alien. Hmph….stare, stare, stare. I hope he falls off his bike!

What did happen was that I was so busy glaring back that I missed a step and tumbled over myself. So much for grace and glamour. Hmph.

But if this story had to go my way, I’d have stared back coolly at the man. If he was really attractive, I would probably have winked at him (no actually I wouldn’t…I’m chicken that way…but for the sake of argument if I could, I would). Enough till he actually fell off his bike. It’d serve him right.

Another time, I was out on a date with someone who was checking out other women. Bad manners, bad manners but who was going to tell him that? Certainly not me. What I did instead was turn around and join him. He was actively engaged in an open-mouthed appreciation of the visions on FTV. So I joined him in grading them on figure, poise, style and expression. He gave up after awhile. Hehe….men are naturally competitive but dahling, who’d know more about a woman than another woman?

Incidently this person, on hearing the first story commented that I had a grin of ‘pure, undisguised evil glee’. He has now taken to introducing me to everyone as Ideasmith, a totally mad woman.

Uh, huh…just so long as you don’t stare. The paparazzi can take their photographs now.

Missing Mr.Imperfect

Today’s paper says that Daniel Craig may be James Bond but he still can’t park his car right. It made me breathe smoke for awhile. Okay, okay don’t say it, a lot of things make me breathe smoke, my dragon is only representative of me.

Rebel without a cause and the voice of the underdog that I am, I have to say, why don’t people leave the poor guy alone? Personally I think becoming the smooth, slick 007 may be the worse thing for him altogether. His charm comes from his ‘so-very-unfinishedness’.

Someone recently explained to me that not all men desired perfection in a woman. I must turn around and say now that some women echo that sentiment too. I am one of them.

Personally I am sick and tired, fed up, fed up, FED UP of a certain kind of man. We’ve all met the type, smooth-talking, polished, well-turned out(not well-manicured…that would be just dandy), articulate and confident. Remember the advertisement for Raymonds’ suitings?

The Complete man

I used to love that ad…the perfect father, perfect son, perfect lover, perfect friend, perfect pupil, perfect teacher…indeed the perfect man. I don’t anymore.

Mr.Perfect comes with a smooth vinyl coating that gives him a sheen akin to the inmates of Madame Tussad’s. Who wants to live with a mannequin? Certainly not me.

Let’s talk about what I have against Mr.Mannequin.

  • I have a problem with the fact that he can converse on a range of topics. I appreciate intelligence but this is a man who elucidates facts but doesn’t share opinions. He doesn’t have one.
  • I loathe his charm, I abhor it, I really really REALLY think there should be a law against misuse and overuse of charm. I’m drowning in a sea of compliments, breaking my bones skidding over the sliminess of sweet talk and getting suffocated in the sweet, whipped cream of boyish-cute-you-just-have-t0-love-me-ness. People like people for themselves. They may be taken in by charm but that’s fleeting, what lasts is impressions of how the other person is, with them, with others and with himself/herself.
  • Of course the smooth moves include a vast repertoire of knowledge on wine, fine dining, haute couture, world travel and poetry. It takes effort and practice for a man to get there, but you know what? It’s not worth it!!! There are women who’ll fall for it (and I have only too often!) but it won’t last. You won’t be able to keep up the facade and she’ll move on to shinier, sparklier men or she’ll start to dim in your eyes. Whatever happened to good old “Love you just the way you are”? It’s gotten lost in the brilliance but some of us are still looking for it.
  • Flashiness was never in, unless it was unconscious. Class is simply contrived ritual unless it’s attitudnal. A Rolex might scream attention, an Omega might smirk money and a may be the King of Understated Style. Who gives a damn? As I see it, I see a man who’s spent a fat lot of money on a nice-looking piece of metal and leather that tells the time. Thank you very much but my cellphone, computer and Titan watch do that too. I really don’t need to know the time that badly. And if I do, any of these things do the job just as well. But why listen to me, who’ll believe that I’m more impressed by a man who doesn’t need to tell me who he is. Women like mystery too, you know and I’m intrigued by a man who will let me discover him for myself and not throw it in my face with brands.
  • Chivalry. Ah, I’ve written about this. Mr.Mannequin will open the door for me. But you know something? My office doorman does that too. I’m perfectly capable of opening a door. I don’t mind if you do it. But don’t expect me to think highly of you because of it. Especially after I see that you aren’t doing the same thing for the senior citizen behind you or that little kid who ran past. Real chivalry is respect for other people, regardless of gender, age or dateability.

Daniel Craig faced a lot of flak for not being 007. True, I agree he wasn’t very close to the suave, slick “My name is Bond. James Bond.” But you know something, a bartender who asks me if I want my drink shaken or stirred, when I haven’t asked for either will make me wonder “Why the f$#@ would I care and if I did, wouldn’t I tell him?” I don’t give a damn and I respect a man who says so.

The day Daniel Craig turns into James Bond will be the day he loses how special he is. He’ll be just another good-looking, smooth-talking cad. And what’s so special about that? This is a world filled with bright lights and sparkly masks hiding empty people.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Update: Peeyush has replied to this with a post of his own.

It’s unfashionable to be cliched but I’m not fashionable anyway. All I have to say is

All that glitters isn’t gold

I don’t even like yellow, shiny bling. But lots of women do, I suppose. They can keep the Mr.Perfects. I’ll continue my solitary search.

%d bloggers like this: