Phil Collins tells me that,
A friend’s mother imparts the following wisdom on men and marriage,
“Don’t expect any kind of sense for about 3 years. After that they kind of settle down.”
PATIENCE is a virtue, apparently a prized one for a woman. Me? I never met a man who didn’t make me, within hours, want to bang my head on the wall. Irrespective of how much I liked him. I think men are like that. Born to annoy.
How does thou annoy me? Let’s count. (In no particular order of priority, they’re all equally irksome)
- Juvenile jokes (toilet humour, anyone?)
- Bad taste in clothes, furniture, colors, everything!
- Complete cluelessness about the concept of ‘Conversation’
- Hormone surges (okay, cross that, it isn’t always a problem)
- EEEEEEGO (with a huge, big, monstrous, mammoth of an E)
- Mixed-up priorities (“Let’s go watch the match now!”, “Why do you need to shop again?”)
- The gall to comment on my taste (“Haha, your brown lipstick looks like you’ve eaten mud!”)
Phewwww..*Deeeeep breath* I think I’m forgetting. I’ve never been high on patience anyway. Some day, some day, some day I’ll learn to tolerate a man being a man. And not keep looking into those starry-eyes and asking,
“Okay, have we grown-up as yet?”
(Click on thumbnail to see idea-toon on a new page)
“Would you slap me if I asked you to spend the night with me?”
I said, “No.”
He looked positively thrilled as he squeaked, “Are you sure?” (Perhaps he assumed I was saying yes to the implied question when I said no to the direct one….does that make sense? Search me….that’s male logic)
“Positive”, I monotoned,
“I don’t go around slapping people for things like this. There are worse crimes, you know.”
It is true. I don’t particularly enjoy violence. I didn’t even bat an eyelid when a roadside Romeo ran the oh-so-corny “Umar hai solah, kamar coca-cola” line on me last week. Yup, I’m a lily-livered, many-feathered chicken in such matters. Verbal warfare is my forte but no, I’m not getting into a clash with someone who might decide to fling some acid on me tomorrow.
Now a guy whom I know, that’s different. Well…not so very much. I would stay and defend my ground but I still don’t like the idea of hitting someone to make a point. I mean, if you can’t win by superior logic and intellect then maybe you aren’t superior after all. Why stoop to such base instincts, then?
I have only slapped a guy twice in my life. The first time was a mistake. A hot-headed 13-year old trying to handle peer pressure doesn’t think too clearly. In my case, I just delivered a stinging slap on the face of the guy I thought was passing around a photograph of Pooja Bhatt in a horrendous costume, with my name scrawled over it. As it turned out, someone else was responsible and he was just looking at it. Poor thing suffered a crush on me as well….which oddly enough, seemed to increase in fervour after this episode.
The second time, I wasn’t hitting. I was hitting back. And that needs no more justification than just that.
So yes, contrary to some popular perception, I do not carry artillery around
with me. (Yes, there was that one boyfriend who used to sign off his letters as “Xena’s guy”…..dysfunctional imbecile, he thought it was cute!)
Not that anyone seems to believe it. Why would anyone be surprised? You can say yes. You can say no. Yes, just say it. You don’t need to demonstrate it. Well, sure there are those who don’t understand the word the first time round. But there are a few hundred ways to convince them. None of them involve touching them.
Is the physical so important to underline the emotional, the mental? There are people who are subtle…I’m not one of them. But I don’t need to mash someone to pulp to prove that I’m not to be messed with.
As an endnote to women: Dahlings, if he’s annoying enough for you to want to hurt him, why touch him at all? If you have to hit, aim where it hurts….his ego. Men may come in all shapes and sizes but they are united on this one point. Sticks and stones may break his bones but a carefully phrased sentence can tear him shreds in an instant. A slap is nothing in comparison.
Choose your battles and use your words well.
The fine print:
And anyone who thought that this post had something to with kinky sex on account of its title and are still waiting…HAHAHAHA! Look at the title of this blog….I bet at least half the people who saw it first thought of steamy b-grade movies. I love word-play.