Monthly Archives: November 2007

That’s quite loyal

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One-man woman

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That’s quite loyal

(Click on thumbnail to see full comic)
One-man woman

Playing doctor

While on this monologue, I passed over one particular profession. The noble one so to speak. For a fact, I haven’t ever dated a doctor. Well not a noble man either. Or a nobleman for that matter. Assuming for the moment that those of Apollo’s profession may have a strain of blue blood in them, here’s a look at the doctors I’d like to have a romantic appointment with:

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Paediatrician: A man who’s good with kids is always a turn-on. Major. Uh, he would know about diapers too, wouldn’t he? Just checking..just in case.

 

 

 

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Cardiologist: Considering that he is qualified to handle the human heart, perhaps he’s less likely than other men to break it?

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Psychiatrist: What’s more appealing than a man who lets you lie down and keep talking and just listens? *Sigh* Even you do have to pay him to do that, it might be worth it just to find out what an actual listening man looks like. Besides, for a good ol’ brain-fuck, who better than the head-shrinker himself?

Surgeon: Aren’t these the guys who are supposed to have long, deft fingers? Ah. 😉

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Gynecologists and Obstetricians do not make it to this list due to their professional proximity to the feminine form. I’d hate to be in the company of a man who seems to know more me than I do.

For the same reason, Endocrinologists fall out as well since I’d never be able to use the ‘I’m-done-to-chemical-death-with-these-hormones’ excuse on them.

I end this with the reminder to take this post just as seriously as you would this.

(Karaoke version of the original) 

GOODNESS GRACIOUS ME
by Peter Sellers & Sophia Loren

Her: Oh doctor, I’m in trouble.
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.
Her: For every time a certain man
Is standing next to me.
Him: Mmm?
Her: A flush comes to my face
And my pulse begins to race,
It goes boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom-boom-boom,
Him: Oh!
Her: Boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.

Him: How often does this happen?
When did the trouble start?
You see, my stethoscope is bobbing
To the throbbing of your heart.
Her: What kind of man is he
To create this allergy?
It goes boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom-boom-boom,
Him: Oh!
Her: Boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.

Him: From New Delhi to Darjeeling
I have done my share of healing,
And I’ve never yet been beaten or outboxed,
I remember that with one jab
Of my needle in the Punjab
How I cleared up beriberi
And the dreaded dysentery,
But your complaint has got me really foxed.
Her: Oh.

Her: Oh doctor, touch my fingers.
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.
Her: You may be very clever
But however, can’t you see,
My heart beats much too much
At a certain tender touch,
It goes boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom-boom-boom,
Him: I like it!
Her: Boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Him: Well, goodness gracious me.

Him: Can I see your tongue?
Her: Aaah.
Him: Nothing the matter with it, put it away please.
Her: Maybe it’s my back.
Him: Maybe it is.
Her: Shall I lie down?
Him: Yes.
Her: Ahhh…

Him: My initial diagnosis
Rules out measles and thrombosis,
Sleeping sickness and, as far as I can tell,
Influenza, inflammation,
Whooping cough and night starvation,
And you’ll be so glad to hear
That both your eyeballs are so clear
That I can positively swear that you are well,
Ja-ja, ja-ja-ja-ja.

Her: Put two and two together,
Him: Four,
Her: If you have eyes to see,
The face that makes my pulses race
Is right in front of me.
Him: Oh, there is nothing I can do
For my heart is jumping too.
Both: Oh, we go boom boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom
Boody-boom boody-boom boody-boom-boom-boom,
Her: Goodness gracious,
Him: How audacious!
Her: Goodness gracious,
Him: How flirtatious!
Her: Goodness gracious,
Him: It is me.
Her: It is you?
Him: Ah, I’m sorry, it is us.
Both: Ahhh!

The right answers

Greek Alphabet asks how I react when a man tells me,

You are not the woman I thought you were.
You are still a girl.

Being a classic multiple-choice-answerer (haven’t you noticed I’m a blogger in the plural?), here’s what I would say to:

The I-lurrrve-him-sooo-much guy:

(Click each thumbnail to see full comic)

 

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The I’m-gonna-bust-his-balls guy:

 

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The I’m-sitting-on-my-hands-to-keep-from-grabbing-him guy:

 

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The infuriating-yet-he-stays friend:

 

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The who-gives-a-damn guy:

 

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In retrospect, no man has ever said such a thing to me. Could it be that they never thought I was a woman in the first place anyway? Or perhaps the fact that I believe (and hence I behave like..) the opposite sex never really grows up? Or….(my third option)….I’ve finally learnt the male habit of going deaf and blind to that which doesn’t please me. Glory be!

The Masculine Mystique

So why bother hiding things at all then?

(Click on thumbnail to see full comic on a separate screen.)

The Male Slut

Personally I loathe the ‘s’ word. I’m no prude but it is just derogatory. On the other hand, it conveys a certain devil-may-care, FO attitude, doesn’t it? Or more aptly ,a fuck-me-or-fuck-off attitude. Perfect. That’s this man alright. Can I attempt to define the Male Slut? Rather tough. Let me just describe him, I’m sure we’ve all known him.

In college I knew of a lecturer who was a cult across campuses. At the start of the year, I was told about him by a senior who added as an after-thought,

He’s an asshole. Expect to not learn anything.

I wasn’t in his class that term. But I did get a call from a friend from another college all breathy,

I’m in lurrrrrve. Ooooh, what a man!

I braced myself to hear about her latest campus conquest. And instead I got a earful about her professor. I figured she was just living out a popular student/teacher fantasy. Till I met the man himself.

My first thought was,

He looks like Billy Bunter!

But I noticed that the crowd in the hall hung on to his every word, the girls practically drooling and the guys…ah, well, we’ll get to that in awhile.

Next term, I was in the dude-professor’s class. Ah…like lycra, he definitely had it. It’s hard to define what he had. Charisma? Intelligence? Talent? Not quite..or perhaps a little of all of these. But most of all, was his ability to flirt with crowds and hold their attention like it was sexual interest. He performed for an audience that lusted for him. In a class, at a meeting of directors, as a judge to an event. He seduced his listeners, male and female, with his presence and it was always a performance that brought the house down. His insults seemed like deep words of praise while his verbal bouquets left people wondering where he was really sticking the knife into them. We loved him, we hated him but we all knew him. Sure he had his detractors but the best-loved artists have their critics, don’t they?

Which brings us to the concept of the Male Slut. A slut isn’t just someone who enjoys the attention of the opposite sex…everyone likes that. This is somebody who works with attention like it is a tangible thing. Think of a gymnast playing with a satin ribbon, tossing it, whirling it in, playing with it, seducing it, fighting with it, pulling it in. It’s a spectacular show. That’s what a slut does with attention.

A Male Slut isn’t quite a Bad Boy…that’s too brazen, too blatant and a little too risky for him. Male Sluts treat their women well; they are charming. They may leave behind a trail of broken hearts but rarely ever a resentful one. Affection is a source of attention and the Male Slut will ensure that it is a perennial one. Remember the friend who will always have dinner with her ex-, even go shopping with him for a gift for his new girlfriend and tell you that,

We were not meant to be together so we’re great friends now. I love him but as a friend!

Bingo. You’ve just had a conversation with one of his ex-es. And no doubting, there’ll be several of them. If a Bad Boy is a prima donna, the star of the show, the Male Slut is the director himself, the silent force behind the scenes, while the rest of the cast has no choice but to follow his dictat.

Male Sluts are intelligent and too practical to not milk it to the fullest extent. Is it a wonder then, that so many of them are successful people? Intelligence is used to get every single thing they want. Sucess, status, recognition, approval, attention. The Male Slut uses intelligence the way some women use mascara and plunging necklines.

What’s really remarkable is that the Male Slut is a man who has comfortably overcome (at least visibly) the common male fear of recognizable affinity to his own sex. This man seduces other men as well. Not necessarily sexually. But there is a certain electricity in his every word, every interaction that other men can sense as well. No wonder then, that a lot of men hate him. It’s resentment, it’s fear and a secret awe. Not that it stops the Male Slut from getting what he wants. The reason men hate him is that he gets what he wants inspite of them and that they let him have it, inspite of themselves.

Now there’s a fair bit of the Chameleon Boy (as Shreyasi, far politer than I, calls him) in the Male Slut. Why settle for one plate when the entire smorgasbord is yours? Then again, the Male Sluts I know are surprising people. They’re deeply committed to the stability of their life. They seem to have the Bad Boy‘s taste for spice but are sensible enough to keep their life antacid-like.

So surprisingly enough, you might find a discreet girlfriend or wife tucked away somewhere, a contrastingly ‘normal’ family life somewhere. Now the thing is, before aspiring to be a part of that life, bear in mind that the woman who lands this exotic bird is usually unaware of his colourful feathers and wings. Or appears to be so. And the Male Slut tries his best to keep things that way. I don’t know why that is the case, but it is so. I suppose a Male Slut is just a grown-up Bad Boy who’s shrewd enough not to burn ALL his bridges. But slutty nevertheless, partnered or not, the Male Slut is permanently married to attention. And he makes a devoted husband.

It reminds me, quite funnily, of the movie Irma la Douce. Who was the real slut in that story?

King among men

It takes a real man to accept a woman who will not be what he wants her to be.

To not reject, to not destroy, to not oppose, to not invalidate…but just accept.

And you, Sir, are a king among men. I salute thee.

I love you, I love you not

Alphabet Soup sets me thinking with,

Relationships are so much like going shopping for clothes.

While The Lady counters that,

They either want you, or they don’t. There is NO in-between.

I’ve been on both sides…the garment and the wearer, so to speak. And I wonder…do some of us simply fall in love with people because they are in love with us? In love with the idea of being in love. As the cliche goes, it is better to settle for someone who loves you than someone you love.

All I can say is…

It is difficult to let go of someone you love.
But its far tougher to let go of someone who loves you.

The first is good for you. The second is good for them.
And when it comes down to it, its always about ME over ANYBODY ELSE.

Self-preservation is an essential survival skill. So long as you are clear whether you want to be the garment or the wearer. Most of us aren’t.

Murphy’s law of ‘Fancy bumping into you!’

Sakshi says that,

Law of Close Encounters: The probability of meeting someone you know increases when you are with someone you don’t want to be seen with.

The XXFactor corollary to that says,

The probability of meeting someone you don’t want to meet increases when you are with:

  1. the person you want to show your best self to (a.k.a. Murphy’s law of ‘know her by her friends’)
  2. the person you are trying to impress (hence we rule out sarcasm, rudeness and flippancy as defense mechanisms)
  3. the person you are trying to hide their existance from

The first can be explained away if you have a vivid imagination (“He sat next to me in chem lab and copied my notes!”) and the second is generally not as bad as one imagines since this happens to everyone some time or presumably can be used as a sympathy-earner. The last one is deadly. Let’s look at some such situations:

  • Running into an ex- when with the current.
  • Spotting ex- no.2 when on a rebound-reconcillation date with ex- no.1 (GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH…..never give a man the chance to say “I told you so!”)
  • Bumping into friendly neighborhood kiranewalle uncle, nosy aunty…or, *gasp* the pater and mater while with the new ‘prospect’. What’s so terrible about that, I ask my so-called modern woman self? Terrible is that they think he’s Guy C who you said helped you get over Guy D but your date actually answers to ‘Guy F’.
  • Meeting ex-no.1 and ex-no.2 together…..ummm…that means they are together, not you and one of them. You don’t want to see either one of them again and what have we here…both at once!!! Double deals are never good.

(Click on thumbnail to see full comic on a new page)

murphy.jpg

Murphy's law of 'Fancy bumping into you!'

Sakshi says that,

Law of Close Encounters: The probability of meeting someone you know increases when you are with someone you don’t want to be seen with.

The XXFactor corollary to that says,

The probability of meeting someone you don’t want to meet increases when you are with:

  1. the person you want to show your best self to (a.k.a. Murphy’s law of ‘know her by her friends’)
  2. the person you are trying to impress (hence we rule out sarcasm, rudeness and flippancy as defense mechanisms)
  3. the person you are trying to hide their existance from

The first can be explained away if you have a vivid imagination (“He sat next to me in chem lab and copied my notes!”) and the second is generally not as bad as one imagines since this happens to everyone some time or presumably can be used as a sympathy-earner. The last one is deadly. Let’s look at some such situations:

  • Running into an ex- when with the current.
  • Spotting ex- no.2 when on a rebound-reconcillation date with ex- no.1 (GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH…..never give a man the chance to say “I told you so!”)
  • Bumping into friendly neighborhood kiranewalle uncle, nosy aunty…or, *gasp* the pater and mater while with the new ‘prospect’. What’s so terrible about that, I ask my so-called modern woman self? Terrible is that they think he’s Guy C who you said helped you get over Guy D but your date actually answers to ‘Guy F’.
  • Meeting ex-no.1 and ex-no.2 together…..ummm…that means they are together, not you and one of them. You don’t want to see either one of them again and what have we here…both at once!!! Double deals are never good.

(Click on thumbnail to see full comic on a new page)

murphy.jpg

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