I Wish :Part Two.

Sometimes I wish  I had more time to read all your posts.

Its damn unfair that I have to squeeze in a few hours of shoreleave time in between my watches and its damn unfair that I can only spare an hour to post my stuff and read all your stuff.

I'm sorry,  I may not read all your posts, but I sure wish I could.

Male Bonding:Yellow Monkey

Fact :Yellow Monkey exists in reality .It is a small bar situated in Yosu , South Korea.Try Googling it sometime.
          No yellow monkeys were harmed during the making of this post.

Fact: The Author does not smoke.Hates it amongst other things.

Fact:The Author is a self confessed compulsive liar.This is true, If you choose to believe it.

Fact:All the above are true ,
          depending on what reality you choose to accept.
           It's your drug of choice.
          The blue pill or the red pill.
           It's your drug of choice, your choice of reality.

So here we go again ...

The thing I most hate about alcohol is the company I have to endure.

Give a drunk a sympathetic ear and he'll tear it off and keep it for himself , my uncle used to say.

No , not really . My uncle said something in the lines of ' give a drunk a sympathetic ear and he'll bore you to tears'.

My uncle wasn't much of a writer, or a thinker .
Not much of anything really.
He died recently.
I hate him for what he did to his family.

As I was saying 'give a drunk a sympathetic ear and he'll tear it off and keep it for himself'.

(I may not be much of a writer or a thinker or much of anything , but  I wont be dying of liver cirrhosis and abandoning my family,at least).

Open the inebriated pandora's box at your own risk.
The outpour results in a ridiculous deluge.
Accomplishments-real and imagined , regrets-for things done and not done , usually not done , rage against slights and offences when there were none, empty boasts stacked upon a pack of lies- all come out of the previously constipated , now alcohol laxated sphincter of the mind .

But this is where real male bonding takes place.
But this is where macho men break down and weep , hug each other and exchange' I love you man' s with each other and mean it .
As the old joke goes , drinking makes you talk more , weep , feel bloated , drive badly, argue pointlessly etc....
i.e it makes you a woman.

So why do men enjoy such routine emasculation ?

I don't know.But I hate the entire experience.

What I hate about alcohol is the loss of control: physical and mental.I hate not being in control of myself and being  under someone else's influence.

So I do what I best know.
I fight .
I fight really hard to regain control over my motor system , my senses and my impulses - effectively ruining the intended effect of intoxication.

So there we are , me and him , in the Yellow Monkey.
That's the name of the lounge bar .It was the strange name that  made us venture into this place.It is slightly upmarket.(No yellow monkeys to be found anywhere.)The clientele are wearing buisiness suits and stylish blazers and everyone looks like he or she has had a facial , manicure and pedicure recently.
We on the other hand are wearing our standard jeans & T-shirt combos, are un-shaven , un-combed , possibly smelling bad: like the bourgeois  crap we are.
                                         We are the only foriegners there , the odd couple - a self professed teetotaler and a self confessed alcohol abuser ,  seated on a comfy lounging sofa overlooking the busy streets , busy smoking and drinking ~ imbibing one poison after the other and spitting out pure venom tinged with bittersweet nostalgia.
The world has betrayed , hurt and deceived us many times and therefore we imbibe large amounts of noxious fermented liquids that make us giddy .
This is how we get back at the unjust and uncaring world.
Up yours Universe ! Yeah !

Its cold.
               My hands are so cold and numb that I wince and fumble every time I urinate.

I notice I've got goosebumps all over.Dotted for pleasure ;)

My life is a transient one , in a constant state of flux.A few days ago it was so hot , humid and sticky that you had peel your dick off your balls(if you had one) before taking a leak.But here it is so cold that it has been many days since my last hard-on and then there's that famous shrinkage...No one will believe what a whopper I've got thanks to shrinkage !

George Costanza was right .
You never want to get caught with your pants down when you've got shrinkage.

                                               Yet we see brave (vain ? fashion conscious?) young women in impossibly short skirts and almost nothing else (with that I mean 'No stockings').Here we are wearing three layers of winter wear and still shivering miserably and there they are : unflinching and unusually comfortable.

The drunk mind is the devil's workshop  .Also an idle mind ,the crazy mind, the overly ambitious mind and so on.
It seems that the devils sets up her workshop everywhere possible.
(What ? You think the devil is a man ?Think Again. God on the other hand is a man.If he were a woman , all the men in the world would have been destroyed long long ago , leaving only asexually reproducing women ,  using mitosis and meiosis to proliferate)

I have to remind you ,my friend and I are LUI.( Lounging Under Influence).
(I'm also WUI, i.e Writing ...)
It is certainly not a crime , but sometimes the devils workshop in the intoxicated mind creates strange concoctions of weird hormones and chemicals that tend to give to imbiber what they call ' liquid courage'.
My friend is almost out of control and I am fighting to gain some of it.
He's staring at her  bare thighs while shivering.
She is wearing an impossibly high skirt , has an anime doll face that looks deadly cute.She's sitting in a corner drinking what I believe to be Steaming Hot Cocoa and minding her own business .
My friends eyes were following her all the way from outside .She is not even wearing a coat , he remarks .
An evil grin creeps slowly across his face .(No doubt , he's under the influence of the devil).He whispers to methat he has some questions for her and that he will go to her and feel her thighs and find out if those yummy thighs are generating any unusual amount of heat which enables her to be comfortably warm in such cold climes.

I'm afraid he'll actually do it.
And get beaten .
Korea's national sport is Tae-Kwon-Do.
The last thing he'd want is to molest a tae-kwon-do expert and get knocked out by a roundhouse kick to his alcohol soaked head...
But lucky for him,he wont feel a thing for he's comfortably numb.(and dumb ?)

But he'll get me beaten up too , I'm afraid.
I'm not that numb that I wont feel a thing.
And I don't want to be beaten up nothing.
I didn't eve tease nobody.
Atleast let me feel her warm thighs if you are going to beat me up.(She does have a great pair of legs , worthy of showing off in whatever weather she feels like showing it off) (Atleast Give me something if your'e going to beat me up !)

So I'd rather run away and live another day.Die a hero , or live as a coward...many men have come across this rubicon that decided their self worth , character , their future , their everything...

A 100 watt bulb flashes on top of my head. TING !
That's not the sound of the bulb.That's actually a toaster I'm using to make my toast .It's smeared with peanut butter and jelly fish.mmmmmm.....yummy.

As the bulb flashed , I knew what I had to do to avert a potential disaster.

"Quick ! Yellow Monkey ! " I said pointing nowhere in particular.
Alcohol is a depressant.It took him some time to follow what I said.
He slowly turned his head towards where I pointed .
"Huh ! Wh-What , where...?!" he said.
"You gotta be quick man .You just missed it."
"Huh , You shitting me man ?, I'm nosh thasshh drunk "
"Yeah sure ...Whoa , look at that !, There it is ! " I pointed elsewhere...
He turned slowly"Wh-where...?!?!"

While his eyes were off her , I had to do something to avert the crisis.

I knew I'd hate myself for what I was going to do next,but it was for everyone's best.I'm sure she'd forgive me if she knew the circumstances.I'm sure she knows I'm a decent man acting under unusual & dire circumstances .
I'm sure she'll like for who I really am.(Tell me , who's more drunk , me or my friend ?)

 l positioned myself in her line of sight and locked my eyes onto hers.(It was the devil making me do it, I swear).

I made a clucking sound , grabbing her attention.

She saw me see her .

I had to act fast.
I clucked again , making sure I got her full attention.
I gave her an exaggerated wink , and mouthed silently " YOU AND ME GIRL ,YOU AND ME " and made  silly pouty smooching faces at her as I  took a huge swig of beer and grinned lasciviously.

Please God (Devil?) , let this work ...Let this work...

Sure enough , she got up , her face filled with disgust ,  left in a huff.

Whew !

"Hey, hey She's leaving , she's leaving ..." My friend said ,"I had sho-o-o-o many quessshuns" he slurred.
"I'm sure you did .Hey ! Want another beer ? Its on me !"

"Hey , where's the yellow monkey ?" he asked , still remembering.
"I think it was the Yellow monkey which made her leave " I said  trying hard not to smile.

I Wish

These days I've begun wishing for the intangibles.

I wish for eternal happiness...
I wish for World Peace...
I wish for End of Hunger...
I wish...

Its not because of noble intentions.
Its because
I've long ago
exhausted my wishlist
of any and all  frivolous items...

They usually ranged
from cakes to copulation!

I wish for a Blackforrest cake ,
and no one to share it with.
I wish for a Blackforrest Cake ,
and a Girlfriend to share it with.
I wish for wild monkey sex with the current Penthouse Pet...
I wish...


There came a time when I had stooped so low that I'd settle  for anything...
like,
I wish for World peace...
if  not ,
I'll readily settle
for a scrumptous serving of
Blueberry Shortcake.
(Mmmmmmm....shortcake:))))))))


I wish I was more creative with my wishes...

Wishing Game:

The view out at sea is breathtaking.

No , really...

I wish I could do justice to it with mere words...
I wish you could se what I see daily...
I wish for a lot these days...
Its fun.
Try it sometime.

I'm lost
The sea is infinite.
I'm lost
The space is infinite.
The looming horizon delineates both infinities .
(Is it possible for more than one infinity to exist ,
and if so , can infinities co-exist ?)
The difference is in shades -
 lighter or darker.
but I'm lost
in infinity.

With the sun up ,
 the sky is light blue
and the sea is sparklingly turquoise
and on dark nights they are shades bluish grey .
The difference is only shades-
lighter and darker.
But I'm lost

(break to prose, veer off course )
                                       The true meaning of Krishna is 'Dark Blue' , the colour of deep space.Lord Krishna's swarthiness symbolized the infinity of the universe encompassed within himself.
Embrace the krishna within yourself.
Hare rama hare krsna-hare krsna hare rama rama rama krshna krshna...chant for eternal peace...chant atleast a 108 times...abstain from anything that you enjoy -smoking , sex, spirits et al.
Enough of pop-spirituality for today...

(Today's goal:Go and scare a hare rama freak(the bald caucasian man with a pony and saffron clothes)the  today: sneeze at one and scream 'OMG EBOLA !'  and watch their krsna consciousness kick in)

Infinity hides within shades of blue -
relatively lighter and darker,
just out of reach ...
and comprehension.

(break off and explain this madness)

The wishing game was something I do for fun.Every night , standing in the pitch black darkness , I look heavenward in search of the infinity within.

"To look within one must learn to look without" , said a bearded  guru clad in white ,  in his standard discourse filled with alliterative aphorisms(this isn't one of them ).It must have been difficult for his script writers to come up with so many alliterative aphorisms.

I said enough of pop-spirituality for today.GEEZ !

Infinity is everywhere.
But instead I see
 tiny pin prick dots scattered across the sky ,
throbbing weakly,
pulsing with life
declaring their existence
 to the rest of the universe.
(As if anyone cared !),
and then a few which streak the sky ,
in a fiery little zig ,
just short of a zag  ,
only to die
in a blaze of glory.

(break to prose, enter a flashback)

                    As a kid , I used to be enthralled by stars.The life cycle of a star fascinated me endlessly.The simple fact that accumulation of a few hydrogen atoms could make a star fiery and hot as hell  was astounding.
Though scared of the darkness, I'd stand out in the night  - looking up -lost within and without.
(scaredy cat , scaredy cat  -Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyahhhhh)

The stars were beautiful.

 They had a million stories to tell -
Orion the handsome hunter ,
resplendent with his belt and dagger
and his dogs -
Canis major and canis minor ,
Taurus the bully chasing Pleides,
the incomparable aries
Trident shaped Scorpio,
Leo resembling a donkey ,
Cassiopiea's chair ,
the winged pegasus,
Ursa Major and Minor .
They all had a million stories to tell.

(break to prose, become pensive)

My teachers had predicted a career as an astronaut  ,or  an engineer and more...but it was not meant to be.Fate ...


(break into song, broadway style)

had something else in mind !

It was out at sea , with no  light pollution , that I rediscovered my love for stars.Tra-la-la

It was out at sea , that I discovered shooting stars , that were not really stars as they zipped by.Tra-la-la

It was out at sea that the wishing game was born.    Ta-da !

I wish for a infinite more wishes...
I wish for all of Superman's powers
and none of his vulnerabilities...
(But wasn't it his vulnerabilities
that made him more of a  man ?)

I wish I was more creative with my wishes.

I wish for...

I wish that I never  run out of wishes...

(break to prose, look deeply into the eyes, and implore)

I'm truly running out of wishes...
but I want to keep playing .
Forever and ever...
upto the brink of eternity.

So give me your wishes,
whisper them in my ears
tenderly
and I'll wish for you (for your wish shall be mine)
with all my heart.(for your wish shall be mine)
I'll remember you (I promise)
everytime I see a shooting star.
I'll wish for you
(for your wish shall be mine)
I promise.
I promise.

These days I feel so happy , my eyes well up when I think about my happiness.
But one question pops out occasionally.
"Why are you so happy ?"
followed by another rhetoric one..."Does it really matter ?"
I know I'm doing Ok.

Fall Out (Valentine's Day special)

“I fell OUT of love. People think you can only fall INTO love. But you can also fall out of love,” said Jay.

“How?” I asked him.

This was the last time I'd see him.Two months later he moved to USA , got married and got settled.

Jay said “I thought about the time I went sailing. You see, I once went out  sailing and I saw a sunset. It was beautiful; we were the only boat on the sea, and all around there was nothing but water, water, water. Big water, lazy, and dark blue like a piece of candy. The sky was orange. And on the horizon was this huge red sun, and it was dipping down into the water like it was putting its own fire out. That sun was the biggest and most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. Anyway, I got out my camera and I took a picture of the sunset, and waited for the film to be developed, just picturing that big beautiful sun in my mind, and how great the pictures would be when they came back.

Then I got the pictures back.

What a disappointment!
Each photo was mostly water, and there was only a tiny red pinpoint for the sun. That wasn’t the way I had seen the
sunset in my mind!
I guess when you're out there in the emptiness and the waves, and there's only one object in all that empty space, your mind gets screwed up and you think that the object a lot bigger than it really is. Your mind magnifies the sun. Your perspective gets distorted. Since the sun is the only thing on the empty horizon, and there’s nothing to compare it to, it looks absolutely gigantic.”

“Well, what does all this have to do with Anita?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. I was having the coffee on the lawn, and I was falling down this mental hole-- hopelessly in love with Anita. And because she was the only thing on my mind, and there was no other feeling to compare her to, she seemed more important than anything or any person in the world.
See, when you're feeling empty, and there's only one person on your mind, she looks like the biggest, brightest star on the horizon.
But what if it’s all a perspective trick? An illusion.
A mental mind game?
What if you’re only obsessed with her because there’s nothing else on the emotional landscape to compare her to ?

Well anyway, while I'm having this coffee, this old friend named Tulsi comes up to me. Tulsi was a friend
of an old girlfriend of mine named Vijeta. So Tulsi and I do a little small talk and out of the blue Tulsi asks me if I made any chocolate chip cookies lately. Small talk, you know. So I say to Tulsi, 'No, not lately. Hey, how did you know that my hobby used to be making chocolate chip cookies?’
And Tulsi says, ‘Don't you remember? You used to make them for Vijeta. I got together with Vijeta and a
couple of girlfriends last weekend, and we got to talking about old times, and she mentioned that you always made the best chocolate chip cookies.’
Vijeta was my old girlfriend, my former lover before we broke up. At the mention of Vijeta's name, I felt
something hit me. An old familiar magic. I remembered Vijeta. I remembered her face, and the little curve of her
ear, and how we were lovers. It was like a door opening, because suddenly all these old feelings and memories that Ihad put away came flooding back.
After Tulsi left I started thinking about the old times with Vijeta and how much Vijeta and I had meant to each other in those days. And yes, I used to bake her cookies, and a lot of other stupid things like that.
And now in my head at that moment I started comparing my old feelings for Victoria with my recent feelings for Anita. And it was really strange. Because when there was only Anita, and I had nothing to compare my feelings about her to, then Anita seemed like the most important person in the world. But when I started comparing my feelings about Anita to my old feelings about Vijeta, then Anita suddenly didn't seem as important as before. In my thoughts, in my priorities, Anita’s importance began to slowly shrink from mountain to mole hill. I felt myself climbing out of a mental hole. I wasn't obsessed with Anita anymore-- she wasn't ‘the only person.’ She was just one of anumber of people I've felt strongly about. Anita was no longer this all-important goddess figure.
After I thought about Victoria I had my perspective back again.
Can you believe it?
 I actually fell OUT of love!

But that's the weird thing about it-- everyone knows you can fall in love, but few people know the trick to making yourself
to fall out of love.”

Jay claims that with practice, he keeps falling in and out of love these days.

Confessions of the hopeless lamenting.(Valentine's Day Special)

Let me come out and finally tell you what really happened.
Often , it is a single event in your life that will steer your life in a new direction .Something dramatic , something which makes a huge impact , something Big...In my case , none of these happened.
As usual with many men  , it was a heartbreak that triggered my change.

It was a very undramatic heartbreak , now that I think of it.

Very understated, so insignificant , like an unnoticed fart ,that no one would ever know if I didn't scream on top of my lungs every now and then lamenting the state of my broken heart.

As usual , I was in love .
She wasn't.

Later , when my mind sobered up ,  I began a journey of self discovery and cynicism .

 I used to think there are riddles in this world not meant to be solved. But I cannot walk away from a riddle.
And what better riddle is there but woman?
It ended up blossoming into studying sexuality itself, and how it transcends the sex act itself.
 You will find it in art, business, politics, society in general.
Oddly, I could never define woman. Nothing was there.

The more time progressed, the more it became clear to me that I was trying to define a mirror.
 In my mind, it seemed I posted an article on femininity but it ends up being on masculinity instead!
 The more I looked into the core of woman, the more I saw the spirit of man. Women seem more like a touchstone, who streaks men and see if they are gold or not.
 How many men had their lives transformed by not obtaining the love of a woman they wanted?
And they were transformed not in the sexual way, but into something more.
Almost every biography I've seen of world changing men always contain the fact that they fell in love with a woman and did not get her. Washington, Adams, Dante (he turns Beautrice into heaven in his immortal epic), Beethoven, practically all poets, practically all famous generals, etc.

 It is as if these guys saw their own wimpish worthless reflections in the women they sought, and changed their ways.
I believe it was Kierkegaard who says, "It is true that behind every great man there is a woman. But it is always the woman he DID NOT marry."


Sappy poems , romantic comedies and valentine's day cards all be damned...they had led me astray for too long.I wanted to learn all that was clinically true about love, life and relationships.It was not enough to just learn everything about these subjects , but I had to chronicle my journey in my own way , so one day I in the future I could see that I too had spent too much time on frivolous feelings like love.

There were many things out there (and still are ) that matter much more than love .

But it's all our fault.We have placed Romanticism on a very high pedestal , far too high to reach anymore.

Everyone believes they are super special.

 We've raised romanticism so much that its taken to be a personal and cultural panacea, a solve for everything.
But not one thing solves everything.
So people suffer the permanent disappointment of these excessive expectations. Twenty years of affection, caring, friendship, the small favors husbands and wives do for each other, is seen as 'boring' to many today.
But in my opinion, it is far more and greater than their stupid expectations. An obituary ought to be written. It'll be its tombstone when we bury this out of control romanticism for good.

Romanticism is an article of faith.
 We know what it's stuffed with: love at first sight, the carriage of frolicking courtships, prancing couples, dialogue consisting of fanstastical banquets, violins and flutes, of ballroom weddings, chandeliers, strangled poetry that converts her every part into some bizzarre infinitude, and of happy homes flowing with enchanting music with  kids,  cars,  garage, and dogs.
All in all, the fountain that bubbles this vaperous romanticism is the phrase: star-crossed.
Romanticism is not something considered to be 'controlled'. Rather, it seen as something to submit to.
This 'star-crossed' love is elevated to the esteemed level known as destiny!
And so this faith makes the man stuffed. These stuffed men float airily through the world.
Some pop to fall in the abyss... (and they wonder why suicide is at its highest rate for young men!).
 Others just stuff themselves more and more so that no matter what is said to them, they are so stuffed that even the sharpest most blatant facts bounce against their rubbery infatuated shells. Some realized that they were stuffed and turned themselves inside out. These unfortunate few shrivel with bitterness and seek revenge with getting laid everywhere and anywhere. But the rest spew out this poison and recover into the Men they were.

Oh forgive me, Hallmark! If I am to doubt Romanticism, I may incur the wrath of all women.
But make no mistake: I war with Cupid. The way to victory is not to stab the infected with the truth... they pop and fall or increase their fantasy shell even more!
Therefore, let us hold up a mirror to the infected so they see all their maladies and so will cleanse themselves of this rot.

 This hyped up romanticism can be traced to Rousseau. Disgusted with bourgeois love (he saw it as an empty emotional center of restrained, law-bound societies), he wanted to replace it with something more passionate. Before (especially in aristocracy), the passion of people was set for truth, honor, and power.
"This is dangerous," said the Rousseau. "It must be replaced with something else. Something that is just as absorbing.
" Therefore: "Love will now be the soul-saving experience!
How did Rousseau get to this?
His childhood as he describes: "To fall on my knees before a masterful mistress, to obey her commands, to have to beg for her forgiveness, have been to me the most delicate of pleasures.
" Thus, in love he is entirely passive; woman must make the first move.

Paglia says, "Rousseau ends the sexual scheme of the great chain of being, where male was sovereign over female... Rousseau feminizes the European male persona" and "gives the ideal man a womanlike sensitivity."
Ever since Rousseau, the culture has become increasingly romanticized.

Music revolves around 'love'.

The highest grossing movies are romantic 'epics' like Gone with the Wind and Titanic (where the ship sinking provides merely a backdrop for the 'priority' of the movie: the romance).
Hyped-Romanticism has ravaged religions; priests  becoming 'servants of love' rather than pursuers and warriors of 'wisdom and truth'.
 Politicians speak of how much 'love' they have and strive to make themselves 'lovable'.

Romanticism has gone beserk!
The Infection Many women march on through their life, stuffed with dreams of hyped-up romanticism. They are filled to the brim with excessive expectations. The high rate of divorce is not due to some moral collapse. It is due to this bizzare and absurd religion of romance. In many ways, romance is the FEMALE RELIGION.
'Anniversary' dates are their religious festivals. The bed becomes their altar, and sex becomes the holy sacrament.

For fun, I told the women, "Romance... True love... None of it exists."

And the women, nonsurprisingly, protested bitterly. But one thing that puzzled me was this one woman who told the me: "I'm never going to get married. Seems so boring."
I thought she would agree with this idea of romance not existing (which I do think DOES exist, but is misapplied to the point of absurdity).
 Yet, she was one of the biggest protesters of it. I figured almost all young women wanted to get married (at least SOMETIME).
This one didn't yet was the BIGGEST believer in romance.
A contradiction? Perhaps. In any age past, her life would be scorned at.
It is this hyper-romanticism at work.
Without this 'romance', there would be no license for her life-long 'romance' outside of marriage. It is well known that if  you get the women to think that 'you love them', she is well more likely to sleep with you. All the gifts and 'dates' the Average guy gives to get his sex are not some form of Neo-Prostitution; it is merely the exercise of this hyped up romanticism.
This explains why women, who have no desire for marriage, will be the BIGGEST believers in romance. Their religion of Romance grants license and prettifies their sometimes dangerous and reckless behavior.

Believe me , despite what all songs say ,love is NOT all you need.

So I became a cynic, a skeptic, almost a misanthrope.

Practical lessons are the best ones .All theory goes out of the window when it come to the real world.So I began experimenting with varoius theories.I've learnt a lot from them.
As a deconstructionist , I like to break down and analyse things.The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.The thrill is in finding the latent part that makes one whole , not just a sum of his own parts.So here goes another futile attempt:
Love is a complicated process. At the first hint of finding the perfect woman, men go into an excited,passionate obsession-- a feeling like floating on air, or speeding through a fascinating tunnel, with no need for food, drink, or rest. The men become blind to all imperfections in the women. They “put their partner on a pedestal” envisioning her as perfect. Their passion also makes the men's emotions extremely sensitive to the women. Minor words or deeds on the part of the women will produce euphoria or depression in the men.
Once a man establishes a stable relationship with a woman, things go “back to normal.” The man acts considerably less “romantic.” He has established his emotional security blanket so there seems to be no need for further action.

If, while the man is still in love, the woman rejects him, he will experience a painful and depressing heartbreak, and then fall bitterly out of love in about two years.(Its been two years now) If, while the man is in love, the woman moves away or is otherwise taken from him, the man will never truly fall out of love, and his grief may last for years. If the relationship lasts, then in about four years the man will naturally “fall out of love.” Then his hormonal levels will go back to normal, and the relationship will depend more on long-term mutual feelings than on “magic” or passion. That’s why people make public marriage vows- - to bolster the relationship, knowing that the feeling of being in love will one day fade.
Marriage is forever; it’s not just until the feeling is gone.

For women, on the other hand, love is a much more material and logical process. Based on height( a minimum of 5 ft 6 in. in caucasian dominated countries), status,physical attraction, and financial security, women select a partner from a batch of available suitors. Women do fall in love, but not to the same degree, not with the single minded obsession that men do. They hope that the partner will supply them with status within the community, enough material wealth for a reasonable standard of living, and support (usually financial) for the children. The women also seek control over the men, using intimacy as leverage, instead of controlling by physical power.
Personally I think men need to be more understanding of women; men need to share more of their power with women, instead of being macho, patronizing, overly chivalrous, and pedestalizing. On the other hand, I also think women need to understand that men are emotionally much more sensitive than women. Thus, it is much more humane
to be firm and break a man's heart early than to let him get his hopes up only to waste away in anguish or vindictiveness.
Because women control intimacy, they need to realize the extraordinary emotional power they have over men-- and that with this power comes a responsibility to steer men in the right direction.

The game of love is a lot more complicated than sex.
Do men only want one thing- - sex? No. If it were true that men only wanted one thing, then all men would be visiting prostitutes.
Do all women want one thing-- sex? If that were true then all women would be visiting gigolos. Men and *women are two completely different creatures that must come together in a relationship.

In The Canterbury Tales, (specifically “The Wife of Bath”) Chaucer implies that what women want is power over men. The reason why some girls at dance clubs dress in attractive outfits yet don't dance with anyone (instead, they reject all the men who ask) is because they like the feeling of power that goes along with beauty. They want to feel like princesses. The reason why my old friend Ms._ accepted gifts, dinner invitations, and theater dates from men whom she had no intention of ever loving was to stoke her ego, and to feed her curiosity. She never loved these guys; she saw them more like a fan club. After all, people shower celebrities with dinners and gifts, and the celebrities feel no obligation to give anything to their fans in return. And who knows? She was hoping some day she might actually meet someone interesting.

Girls want to be seen as nice. They are raised to be nice.The reason why many girls in dance clubs say, “Maybe later” when they actually mean, “no” is because they don't want to sound cruel. At the same time, men are seriously misled by these actions.
Girls want to feel secure. One reason why many girls treasure tall men is because they want to feel physically secure. One reason why beautiful young women go after ugly, old rich men is because they want to feel financially secure. One reason why high school girls fall in love with stereotypical jocks is because they want to feel socially secure; they want to lock themselves in a position of status.
The disproportionate amount of women in poor countries who fall in love with rich foreigners is probably due to a subconscious desire for physical, financial, and status security. Sometimes women are even willing to marry people they don't love, especially if the man is a good provider, and the women are aging.

Men, on the other hand, are obsessive, optimistic idealists. Traditionally, men have been raised on romance stories and movies, and every time they feel lonely, somebody is sure to advise them, “you need a girlfriend.”
Hormone driven, they spend a large portion of their young lives obsessed with female beauty and looking for somebody to fall in love with. They will spend, stalk and spy if they have to.
Their attraction to women is not only physical. It’s psychological; they want a beautiful woman to have faith in them. As children men could always go back to Mom for moral support when the going got rough, and as adults they believe that the perfect relationship will be a shelter from all problems and a support for all goals. As a result, the perfect wife, aside from being beautiful to satisfy physical cravings,is someone to come home to after battling the world. In addition to being pretty, the perfect wife is a “mommy figure,” who will lovingly steer their husband in the right direction, a direction which is good for the man, but too daunting for him to accomplish alone without emotional support from her.(I always told her that only she could save me)
An interesting side note to the “mommy figure” who lovingly steers them in the right direction is that men will love and respect any woman who acts this role, regardless of the relationship- - girlfriend, grandmother, friend, boss, employee, or wife. For example, a beautiful woman who is straightforward with a man during rejection and steers him in the right direction is respected unconditionally. But a beautiful woman who presents mixed signals is considered a “tease” and is disrespected.

In sum, men and women each want something out of a relationship; they each have their own agenda. Men have their “perfect object” and “mommy” complex. Women have the four criteria (height, social status, physical attraction, and security) in addition to the psychological baggage of always trying to appear kind, and the temptation to use intimacy for
control. These hidden needs drive our search for the perfect partner.
It’s very important to understand these needs, to know what’s going on in this game. If you’re a woman, you could be the nicest person in the world, but if you’re overweight, you’re not the “perfect object” men are looking for and may be treated cruelly. Or, you could be beautiful, but if you don’t know how to steer the men around you wisely, you’ll soon be disrespected and treated like an object or even hated by embittered, rejected men. If you’re a man,and you don’t have height, status, good looks, or money, you could end up lonely. In addition, women could unwittingly be playing cruel head games with you, by seeming “kind”and allowing you to do things for them that feed their own egos, with no intention of going out with you.


She seemed perfect in every way .Her imperfections didn't matter then.I wanted her to save me , from myself, like  I always told her.Always.

The heartbreak was undramatic...with a simple sentence , she nudged me from a 'Potential Mate' to 'in your dreams , Mate! '.
It was a pre-emptive strike...much before I could do anything stupid and humiliate myself and her.

I  hopelessly return to the same subject...over and over again.Its seems I'm powerless not to...

No.I haven't stopped grieving, and yes I'm still healing.

I dont love her anymore, I still  respect her , but I also have lost my ability to fall in love with anyone .
I only hope that time proves me wrong.

Happy Valentine's Day Everyone....May you not be as tormented as I am.

Long Live Frogs(Valentine's Day Special)

“You never see it coming.” said my  friend Steve,when I questioned him about his surprise breakup with Patty.
“One minute you're going along like everything's fine, andthe next minute she says, “It's the last straw. It's over.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean women always pretend like men are the silent ones, the ones who never communicate-- when really
it's the other way around. Things were going great. I called her every night. As usual, we went out together every few
days in spite of my heavy work schedule. Sure, we had some minor disagreements but they came and they passed, and the situations didn't seem to be connected. As for me, I always forgave her. I was the one who apologized every time,
whether it was my fault or not.”
“How did it end?” I asked.
“Normally I work in San Diego, but I got assigned to a work site up nearSan Francisco for six months. It was a six-hour drive, but I drove back down every weekend to see Patty. The assignment ended, and I returned to San Diego.
Things went smoothly for about two months. Then, after we argued about a movie (of all things!), she sent me an email letter saying that in her view, each argument of our arguments had gotten worse and worse and this was the last straw and she wasn't going to take me back. I didn’t know what she was talking about. Sure, we had some arguments over the course of the five years that I’d known her, but they were nothing. I mean, like, we were arguing over stupid stuff like which restaurant we were going to. I didn’t think it meant any big deal.

She sent me the email on my birthday. The email message said 'do not read until after your birthday.’ Maybe she didn’t want to spoil my birthday. But I was too curious,so I read it. In so many words, the letter announced she was breaking up with me. It really spoiled my birthday.
After that I tried to call her-- I practically laid siege to her apartment, but Patty wouldn't speak to me. Later, one of her friends told me she had been hanging around with this other guy while I was away working those six months in San Francisco. And about a month after the breakup Patty comes up and says to me, 'I just want you to know I still think of you as a friend.
Let's just be friends.’ But it's all bull. The thing is, she never told me anything about how she felt. I thought each disagreement was forgiven and forgotten. Then she hits me with the bomb. Plus, she was seeing this guy Bill behind my back.”

Steve’s story was interesting, but his girlfriend Patty also happened to be a friend of mine. I asked Patty about the  same events and got her version of the story.
In Patty's view:
“Steve and I were having arguments. Each argument seemed to get worse and worse. After each argument we
broke up, but Steve always begged for forgiveness and I always took him back. But both of us silently knew the really big breakup was coming and it was just a matter of time.”
“Did you ever talk to him about it?” I asked.
“I never talked about it with him because I didn't want to aggravate the situation. Then Steve left for a six month project. I thought it would give both of us a little fresh air. But I was depressed a lot, so I spent a lot of time with an old friend, Bill. Bill really cheered me up; he was a really nice guy. Do you think it’s possible for a woman to be in love with two guys at the same time? Anyway, then one day the big break-up happened. Later I started going out withBill.”

I asked Patty, “How were you able to cope with the break up?”

“Getting a new boyfriend was the best medicine for me. Getting a new boyfriend helped me forget about Steve. But I still think about him sometimes, when I'm alone.”

I asked Steve how he managed to keep from getting depressed after the breakup.

“At first I was angry. But I wasn't angry at Patty. And I wanted to punch this scum Bill. Then I was depressed. I
started driving a lot. I figured if I drove far enough or fast enough the angry thoughts would leave me.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah, it worked okay. But I got into a car wreck; you can't really drive too well when you're wrapped up in
your thoughts. Anyway, the insurance paid for the accident, but now my insurance rates have gone up.”

“Yeah.” I agreed. “Those insurance guys make a lot of money. So what finally happened?”

“While I was in the hospital my friends visited me and I talked to them a lot, to get things off my chest. In the
hospital I also saw a lot of people worse off than myself and I started to feel like my problems weren't as big as theirs. Like this one guy had cancer. And another guy had a lung problem. Too much smoking, I think. So I figured if I joined a volunteer group, I'd see lots of people with terrible problems, and I'd stop feeling sorry for myself because everyone else was even worse off. So I joined the ‘Amigos De Las Americas’ as a medical volunteer. You practice Spanish, giving first aid, and inoculations, and they send you to poor countries in the summer. It worked great.”

“You mean the volunteer work really took your mind off your problems?”

“Yeah. Even better than that, not only did I keep my mind off my problems, but I also helped a lot of people, and I met a lot of nice girls at Amigos. Really cheerful and adventurous types. I mean, it should be obvious that people who do volunteer work have good personalities and a lot of energy, but I never figured it would be a great place to meet
women. Yeah, I made a lot of good friends.”

“That's great, Steve,” I said. “Did you find any other ways of getting over your depression?”

“Well, the turning point of my depression was when I did something really crazy.”

“What?”

“There was this science professor who used to keep live frogs in an aquarium at the biology tab. He intended to
tie the frogs-- while they were still alive and awake-- towooden chopping boards, so that his biology students could dissect the frogs the next day, to see what was inside their bodies.
 I thought it was cruel, so that night I sneaked into the lab and stole all the frogs. Around midnight, I went down to a nearby river and let each frog go free, one by one. As I held each frog, I named each one after an old girlfriend before I let it go.

Goodbye, Geena. Goodbye Mary Anne. And so on.
The last frog was the largest and I held it the longest before letting it go. I named it Patty. It was very therapeutic. I felt a kind of catharsis come over me. A feeling of letting go.”
“Do you still miss Patty?” I asked him.
Steve said, “Oh man, Don't ask me that. Well, I'll live"
 
And I muttered  "Long live Frogs ...Long live Frogs...We don't need any princesses to rescue us "

Shoreleave

"Hey dude ! You must go out tonight...at any cost."
"Really, you must...The fish are sure biting today" I said before relieving my collegue off his watch.
"What do you mean ?" he asked .
"I mean , " I said , "Today the fish are biting (wink wink).
The bait seems to be in great form.
The chum bucket's attracting a lot of maneaters today, if you know what I mean " (wink wink.)

Unfortunately my collegue wasn't in any mood for fishy euphemisms.He just wanted to sleep after a long day's work.

"Rest ?
My friend ...plenty rest at sea my friend...
you go out my friend , no go out- no good ah friend..." I began irritating him with my faux-pig english.

"Then explain ....I dont get these fish and chum bucket metaphors of yours"

"Er. it's an euphemism , but anyways, as I was saying , the fish are really biting today..."

"Oh! shut up with your fish and bait and stinking english lessons and tell me what bloody happened ..." said my colleague , clearly exasperated, but I was floating , light as a helium balloon , to notice any of it.

"Ok , Ok ...enough with the fish....let me get straight to the beef...
hey aren't you a vegetarian ?
Sorry  my bad...Sheesh, aren't you being a grouch!"

"You gotta believe me"
I said  "Today the girls out there were all over me .One of the girls even shouted that I was very handsome...and you know what I did? I said thank you , and she ran away in emabarrassment and then I ...."

"Ahem ! Pardon me for being incredulous, but aren't you carrying things too far ?" my weary colleague asked me...

"No , You gotta believe me" I began protesting "I've got proof" I tried to shout before he left , already out of earshot.

Miffed , I thought...Why not write about it.
After all these suckers buy anything from flying saucers to talking chimps...

 Bontang.
I had come to this city  nearly after 2 years.
Progress had made some changes in Bontang.

As in any small town , progress is measured by the number of malls you have.

Bontang had  a new mall.

Ramayana.

It was a ridiculous name for a mall.

Ask any Indian about Ramayana and he will tell you that it is an epic saga , the adi-kavya written by maharshi Valmiki, a verse made of a hundred thousand lines telling you the story of King Rama, his wife Sita who was kidnapped by Ravana, the king of Lanka (present day Sri Lanka) , in a way Shakespeare never could.

If only we could appreciate sanskrit.

But that made no difference to Bontangians.(Is it ok if I call you Bontangians , Bontangians ?)

They were all gushing about how Ramayana , the indonesian chain of hypermarkets,had taken so long to arrive , making all their waiting so satisfactory .
(Newsflash :As you read this , we have reports that Bontang Plaza , Bontang'sonly other mall had a mysterious fire that burned it down yesterday...rumors are that it was all a sinister plan to eliminate competition !)

Except the addition of Ramayana, Bontang as a city largely remained unchanged.
It was still a beautiful little idyllic town by the sea, covered by palm trees and lush coastal greenery, long winding roads ,quaint nostalgic huts and houses,  scenic locales et al.
All of it remained pretty much the same.

Then I realized the most obvious change.It was the women.
Suddenly women started looking more beautiful.Much more than two years ago.

To get to  Bontang , we usually rent a bike , along with the driver .For about 10 $ we get  a driver  who has reasonable command over english  and he will take us out into the city and take us back to the jetty .Safely.

It was the same city I had come to love after frequent trysts.

But I had a mission to accomplish that day.I had to buy some new T-shirts after my old ones got accidentally bleached with the wrong kind of detergent.(its a really long and boring story , so let me not go off tangent now)

On the way we to the city , we stopped briefly at a small store nearby.On the other side there was a house with an open window.There she was.The most beautiful girl I had seen in a long long time.

And she was staring at me.

I could feel the heat of her eyes boring holes in the back of my skull.

I ran through my mental checklist specially created when people stare at me.
(Happens more often than you think)

1) Zipper zipped .Check
2)Toilet paper  not stuck to shoes.Check.
3)No weird shit on my clothes.Check
4)Not wearing my  clothes the wrong way.Check.
5)Finally .Zipper zipped.Check.

Yup.I was ok.Nothing weird about me at all.

So I tried to return her gaze, but there was an intensity in her eyes that I simply couldn't match.
I couldn't look back at her. It was too intense , like the glaring sun , that I could only look at her for a few seconds before looking away.

I have to confess.I have a lot of catching up to do with my balls.I simply could not stare her down that day.

Shaken and soul stirred , I left for the city.

I asked my driver to take me to Ramayana, the mall everyone was ga-ga over.

It was in Ramayana where truth began to get stranger than fiction.

Ever seen how a crowd reacts to a celebrity ?
Me neither...

But as soon as I enetered , the security guards bowed .That never happened before.
Never happened two years ago either.
And the girls...some of them stopped dead on their tracks...started staring and then moved away...some of them smiled, coyly and walked away...weird stuff that didn't make sense.
          Then going against the grain , I tried to chat up with the girls...
bad mistake...
At one time , there were 6-10 girls around me , none that spoke english , trying to talk to me ,trying to  translate , and giggling raucously...and soon men started coming in to see what the fuss was all about and then had  a look at me and would simply walk off shaking their heads.

It was weird when I tried out some T-shirts.Some one would occasionally try to peek in.And once out wearing the T-shirt, they would say how good I looked in the T-shirt.
What a load of crap.I didn't like most of the T-shirts there.

However the weirdest thing to happen was when a cute compere (with above average command over english) started calling us.
"You sir ...
Yes Sir , You ...what song would you like , and who do you want to dedicate it to  ?"

"Er...1973, James Blunt ...to myself..."

"So sir ,  don't you have a girlfriend  you want to dedicate it to ?"

"Ok ,in that case,  You're Beautiful , James Blunt ....and I dedicate it to you " I said with my best cocky bastard smile.

Oh man , what a power trip it is to make a woman blush !

Of course , she turned off her mike , inched closer and started asking me questions.

Yes.I was a foreigner.
Yes.I was an Indian.Like sharukh khan.
No.I didn't know Sharuck khan personally.I wasn't related to him either.
No .I didn't think she looked like Rani Mukerjee.
No.She looked more like Rasnavati.* ( * name changed to protect identity )

(that was her name and as soon as I uttered this,  the rest of the gang of girls started going ape-shit about how I knew her name.It wasn't apparent to them that I was literate enough  to read her name tag which was in english)

And Thank you for letting me know that you are free after Ten PM.
No , I'd have to be  back onboard by six.   
Bummer !

So before I left , I asked her an opinion about the T-shirt I was about to buy.
She said she didn't like it.I liked it though.
So I bought it anyway and left Ramayana feeling giddy.

I rationalized that all that attention was because she was a store employee(after all) and I was a customer she was trying make comfortable.
But then , when I went to another store I got the same results.Even the store owner for some reason bowed after I had just bought a only a  cheap T-shirt.
Must've been a slow day, Huh !

I contemplated these events for a long time.
Then I stumbled on to something that helped me understand what had happened.

Here are its contents.
'
I know three guys who all of a sudden went from unpopular nerds to superpopular he-men studs with adoring women
following their every footstep in a matter of months. Here is what happened to them:

Example 1:
Wilson was a skinny bespectacled computer programming student. He was a loner, and in his entire life
he had never had a girlfriend. He went to Phoenix, Arizona to do a co-op for Tetrasoft, a wealthy software corporation--
not knowing that at Tetrasoft, one in five employees is a millionaire due to company stock options. Suddenly Wilson
found himself surrounded by starry-eyed Phoenix girls, flirting with him and offering themselves to him at every
opportunity. They took him to nightclubs. They invited him to parties. He was never without a date, or a night's sleeping
partner.
Despite the beauty of some of the women, Wilson eventually became dissatisfied with the women because all of
the female prospects seemed to “lack substance.” He began to believe that all of them were only interested in his money.
Wilson returned to college in California after the co-op and continued his nerdish life. He described the co-op in
Phoenix as like being treated like a king for six months. He said, “They're in love. A girl in Phoenix is just like any other girl falling in love. Why did they fall in love with me? I just happened to be a popular stereotype.”

Example 2:
Michael was an unpopular underweight Caucasian from New Zealand who described himself as looking like a
chicken embryo with an Adam's apple and glasses. He visited Japan, not knowing that in some places in Japan, everyone with blond hair and blue eyes is a fantasy object for women with romantic fantasies about Westerners. At Otaru college in Hokkaido, Japanese women went crazy for Michael, and he slept with many Japanese women for about a year until he contracted a venereal disease, and his days as a stud abruptly ended.

Example 3:
Geoffrey was a middle aged goofy guy with low self esteem who joined the Navy as an electrician, He was not a
classy person, and he couldn't tell the difference between a high priced steak, and a local greaseburger. Nor was he
athletic-- he was overweight and perspired continuously. But he visited the Philippines, where American dollars have 40
times the buying power of Philippine currency. Like Wilson and Michael, Geoffrey became a kind of overnight celebrity;
he became a popular fantasy object for love-starved Filipino women. Being in the Philippines really boosted
Geoffrey’s self esteem. But when Geoffrey returned to his home country he was just an ordinary guy again, and had no
luck with women.

The common theme to all three stories is that they were ordinary unpopular guys. They each did nothing to
enhance themselves, but in spite of this they were surrounded by adoring women. Girls fell in love with them because
Wilson, Michael, and Geoffrey accidentally stumbled into situations where they fulfilled a glamorous popular
stereotype. '

I could've been any of the stereotype, I rationalized.So I decided on not posting this originally.

I hate being a stereotype.I also hate being branded a liar ,so I decided not to post anything about it until I knew for sure what had happened and I would post only if I could repeat the results .

A  week later , we went out in Yosu, Korea.Yosu was freezing now.My friend and colleague wanted to buy some hair dye(he is greying at the tender age of 20) .As we were roaming aimlessly searching for a english speaking salon , we spotted a group of girls staring at us.
I gave my usual 'cocky bastard ' smile and my colleague waved.
Something weird happened.
They started screaming in a way I'd seen girls scream when they see their favourite celebrities.
We were dumbstruck.
"That's never happened to me before ! " said my bewildered colleague.
"yeah , me neither " I said rolling my eyes.

And something more crazy happened.
The girls began following us.
"Fuck , I think we're being followed"
"Yeah , lets just play it cool and walk along..."
"No , lets stop and chat them up ..."
And then we turned around and began chasing them.
Ha Ha , the hunter became the hunted ...

Seeing us chasing , the girls ducked into a nearby building.It was a gaming parlour.We went in the gaming parlour with all guns blazing...only to find it overcrowded and the girls hopelessly lost in the sea of semi-sopoforic gamers.
Tired by all the excitement  and badly timebound, we just came out and continued our aimless journey.

But At the end of it all ,It felt good.
Really good.

What was great was I had a repeat result in a completely different situation with different variables and value systems, and It felt really good.

I realized that seduction is a game of logistics.Location, time, social value, attraction all have to add upfor an opportunity to present itself.
Even with one element missing , it all gives way , like a pack of cards.We realised that after we lost the girls in the gaming parlour and had no time to search for them.

Severely constrained by time , we stopped horsing around and came to do what we originaly intended to do.But finally  we ended up visiting an ancient buddhist monastery instead of getting his hair dye.So much for logistics.
We both were high that day.He was constantly telling me how this had never happened before and how good it felt...

"Man ," I said to him"I love Shoreleave.Lets do it again next time....only it'll be better than before. I promise "

And all he could say was "This has never happened to me before"
"Me neither...me neither" was all I could say.

Kiss Me, funny valentine !

Kissing causes germs
Germs we know are hated
But kiss me quickly , baby;
Kiss me , I am vaccinated.