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The Dirty Boy Habit

My father does it. I remember my cousin doing it from the summer he stayed with us. And now, to my horror and disgust, I find my boyfriend does it too!

I shudder to enter the toilet. No, this is not about that old seat up/down debate. Look higher. There’s a book lying on the flush tank!!! Sacrilege! Books are divine carriers of the holy light of wisdom and human experience. Imagine exposing them to the unclean atmosphere of the toilet, not to mention actually reading them?!

Why oh why do men insist on reading in the toilet? Now I don’t understand why one needs to be entertained in the toilet. It’s not a library, it’s not a spa, it’s not your bedroom, it’s a disposal station! You go in, do your business and you get out. But no!

The boy says,

“Reading in the loo is to men what taking a shower is to women. It’s an experience!”

Now what am I to say to that?

~O~O~O~O~O~O~

A version is posted to Yahoo! Real Beauty.

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You Can’t Hurry Love…Or A Man!

Phil Collins tells me that,

“You can’t hurry love, you just have to wait. Love don’t come easy, it’s a game of give and take.”

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)

  • Stubbornness
  • Bird-watching
  • Commitment-phobia
  • 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?”

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An earlier version is here. A version is also posted at Yahoo! Real Beauty.

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