Common Delusions

All women suffer from a delusion that their aesthetic tastes are infinitely better than that of the men they are with.

                On second thought, women do not suffer from this delusion...they rather enjoy exercising it and as a result make their men suffer.

Ice Queen

He's an astute observer of people.

He's usually never wrong.

He tells me, that I need to be loved by women,that I constantly crave their validation,  and so to gain that love and validation I will do anything they ask me.

I resented that.

I'm not like that.

I think.

I'm never sure...his eyes have a way of convincing you the absurdest of the lies he spouts out.

I tell him,"I don't even believe in love"

"So..who was she?", he asked.

"Who?",

"The one that broke your heart?",

"You won't believe me if I told you...", I said.

"Try me", he said.

"She was an imaginary woman of my creation...the perfect ice queen whose primary goal in life was to reject all men, while hoping and waiting for her Prince Charming."

I took a long breath before I could continue...I had to say it in a single breath, or else I would never be able to say it at all.

                       " I've placed this imaginary woman's mask on several women till date... and most of them have outright rejected it...but it fit one person very well, and it became her...no, not because she had all the qualities of my imaginary ice queen, but because I helped her bring it out slowly and gradually, until the mask got lost somewhere in the persona.

                          The objective of the entire exercise (futile as it may seem now) was to bring about a change in me (which it did in the end) but it had unintended(and tragic) consequences that it changed her as well.

                        I feel so ashamed of myself that I've stopped talking to her,distanced myself from her and hope that someday she might forgive me."

"It's too late to ask for forgiveness", he said,"she will hate you for the rest of her life".

"I know" I said.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

I never write what I'm supposed to be writing.

A long overdue apology letter to a girl for not calling her, not talking to her, not meeting her and basically ignoring her and acting like an asshole...That's what I'm supposed to be writing right now.

Instead I write this.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

I woke up late today, almost at noon, with a parched up throat and a terrible headache.

The maid had let herself in and out.In between she had cooked something for me in the kitchen...I didn't bother to check what it was.

I wore a freshly pressed parrot green t-shirt and an old pair of faded blue denim jeans, brushed my teeth(I think) and let myself out after washing and drying my face.

I didn't know where I was heading, but I knew that I had to get out of the house and if possible, out of my head.I headed towards the train station which was about ten minutes away, but then realised that today being sunday, the trains would be stopped on harbour line from eleven to four in the evening.

So I retraced my path back, still not undecided on where to go...and I walked towards the bus stop.

Immediately I noticed several things.

One girl with her mother...cute(not the mother, but the daughter)

Two girls-young-perhaps in their teens, with guitars in their hands sitting leisurely, chatting with each other.

The girl and her mother both stare at me for a few seconds as I wait on the other side of the street to cross the road.

The guitar girls both stare at me and whisper and giggle amongst each other for they are sure that I will come to them and talk to them.They are right.I wanted to ask one of them if any buses went to vashi from that stop.

With the mom-daughter combo the strategy is simple-

                                                   Go sweettalk the mom.

                                                    Ignore the daughter.

                                            

                                                    No.

The daughter does not exist.Its just you and the mom.Once you've asked the mom about the bus schedule, then ease into a conversation by talking about the weather, perhaps inflation, perhaps the state of the government or college entrance cutoff marks.

While you talk to the mom, discreetly wink at the daughter and wait for her reaction.

Never openly make eye-contact with the daughter.

If the daughter still seems to want to talk to you- you then coolly ask the mom about her daughter (of course, in the most offhand and disinterested manner as possible), and while the mom is busy talking to you about her daughter, you slip in ur phone number to her and ask to give you a missed call.

As soon as she gives the missed call, you candidly ask the mom her daughter's name and then feed it to your phone and save it, while making some innocuous 

comments on her name(like how her name is similar to that of your sisters).

Its even easier with the guitar girls.Since both of them are in a public place, they will not feel threatened by you.

Rule No.1: Never make a girl physically feel threatened by you.

Since they are already giving you the classic indicators of interest, you should directly go chat with them...not forgetting your original agenda.

Asking about the bus that goes to Vashi.The answer they give is incosequential i.e it doesn't really matter whether they know if any bus goes to vashi or not.

From here it is easy to segue into a variety of topics including their guitars and their status.

Sigh.

They want me to come over and talk to them.

All this I have calculated and though out in under a minute when waiting to cross the road.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

But what do I do?

I walk away.

I remember the splitting headache and the parched throat and I walk away.

A part of me knows too well that I can get the desired results.

Another part of me doesn't want those very results.It asks 'What next?'

Somethings are best left unexlpored and un-ventured.

Status Quo feels safe.

Lets not tangle up our lives shall we.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

I just choose not to answer the call.

Just too busy being fabulous...

Mom said,"I Saw her today...and she didn't even look at me... she was being evasive                                throughout.

             

                She was acting a bit weird...as if I was invisible, especially when I tried to talk to her.

                It was as if she was trying to avoid me...

                Did you say something to her that would make her act like this?... 

                By the way, she has lost weight and looks fabulous, even though she was a little                                                           over made..."

Mom could easily be psychic about most people.

Especially when she doesn't know them that well.

                         I said, "If I have said something to her, why would she take it out on you?   

                                    She's far more mature to do such a thing.

                                   

                                    She doesn't see my image in you.

                                    Maybe she was just too busy being fabulous!"

I hope that what I said is true.

If not, there is nothing worth left to salvage. 

 

(I wish you peace.)

Healthy Looking

(Overheard Conversations)

Girl: Yeah, hello...haan...accha...you are searching for praneeta?

Mystery person on the Phone:mumble mumble mumble.

Boy: Praneeta...you know what she said to me the other day...

Girl: Haan accha...arre nahin re...you will find her in my class itself...

Boy: You know what Praneeta said to me the other day...she tells me...

Girl: Arre rukh na...I'm talking on the phone na...understand yaar...

Mystery person on the Phone:mumble mumble mumble.

Girl:Haan accha...arre nahin re...you will find her in my class itself...she is a bit dark, is wearing a green salwar...kinda short...and...

Boy :She's fat...SHE'S FAT...SHE'S FAAAAAAT!  (His voice rising into a thunderous crescendo)

Girl:And she's a bit healthy looking !....shut up yaar...they can hear you on the phone...

Me (the fly on the wall so far) :Snort..Snort..Snort...Chuckle...snicker...oh excuse me...sorry...I'm sooo outta here  !

"What Happened to All the Nice Guys?"

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/483318927.html
Yes Indeed...WTF happened to them?

A little bit of both...

Men who pursue a multitude of women fit neatly into two categories. Some seek their own subjective and unchanging dream of a woman in all women. Others are prompted by a desire to possess the endless variety of the objective female world.

The obsession of the former is lyrical: what they seek in women is themselves, their ideal, and since an ideal is by definition something that can never be found, they are disappointed again and again. The disappointment that propels them from woman to woman gives their inconstancy a kind of romantic excuse, so that many sentimental women are touched by their unbridled philandering.

The obsession of the latter is epic, and women see nothing the least bit touching in it: the man projects no subjective ideal on women, and since everything interests him, nothing can disappoint him. This inability to be disappointed has something scandalous about it. The obsession of the epic womanizer strikes people as lacking in redemption (redemption by disappointment).

Because the lyrical womanizer always runs after the same type of woman, we even fail to notice when he exchanges one mistress for another. His friends perpetually cause misunderstandings by mixing up his lovers and calling them by the same name.

In pursuit of knowledge, epic womanisers turn away from conventional feminine beauty, of which they quickly tire, and inevitably end up as curiosity collectors. They are aware of this and a little ashamed of it, and to avoid causing their friends embarrassment, they refrain from appearing in public with their mistresses.

That Damn Smile (Did he just say that?)

The other day I saw this girl and for a moment I was confused.

No, she did not look like you.

For starters, she had bigger boobs.

But it was her smile .I can remember that smile anywhere.

That damn smile nearly killed me onetime.

I was watching a...ahem!...a movie where this girl was in a shower cabinet,doing what girls usually do in shower cabinets, and then she had to spoil it all by flashing a  smile.

I sat there dazed as the realisation slowly dawned upon me. She had your smile. 

That damn smile that nearly killed me onetime.

Were you her?

(That was a blasphemous notion...though kinky) 

Was she you?

(equally blasphemous and kinky)

No,she was not.

She had bigger boobs.

And baby lotion.

And perky music(among other perky things).

And extreme closeups.

And the rest of her assets that were so unlike yours.

So there I sat very confused,growing limper by the minute and my hand lotion drying up.

If she was not you, then did she steal your smile? 

Was she your doppelganger?

Holy shit! 

She smiled again...And I felt a part of me die inside.

That damn smile nearly killed me onetime.

She had your smile, the one that diffused evenly like ground coffee in hot water.

She had your smile,the one which suffused slowly and steeped into the violet sunsets.

She had your smile, which began like a candlelight and  gradually became brighter and brighter to a point where the entire person became radiant.

She had your smile,that which at completion gave a halo and a pair of angel wings made of snow white swan feathers.

she had that damn smile that nearly killed me onetime.

That's when I realised that halos and warm smiles could be faked.

Remind me never to trade a heart for a mere smile.

Now my self-flagellating guilt will not allow me to watch or enjoy that movie.The more I watch it, the more it reminds me of that smile.

Of that damn smile that nearly killed me onetime.

Your smile.

But I still have the...ahem! movie with me...just in case I need to remember that smile.

A picture's worth

A picture's worth is an experiment, and probably one of my last stories.

Attachment: A Pictures Worth.pdf

These things have never happened

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Great Expectations

There is no humanly comprehensible absolute truth out there, only differing viewpoints and theories.

 

George Carlin had his take and Scott Adams has his own. 

No matter how tongue-in-cheek or scientifically grounded something is it can never be the entire truth, but only a simplified model of reality.

It is a good model of reality only if it is of any use to you, if you can successfully apply it. Only you can decide whether anything is a good model.

 

So here we go again...From Scott Adams.

 

"Women believe that men are, in a sense, defective versions of women; Men believe that women are defective versions of men.

 (Although I don’t believe that either is defective)

 

Both genders are trapped in a delusion that their personal viewpoints are universal.

 

That viewpoint—that each gender is a defective version of the other—is the root of all misunderstandings.

 

Women define themselves by their relationships and men define themselves by whom they are helping.

Women believe value is created by sacrifice. If you are willing to give up your favorite activities to be with her, she will trust you.

 

If being with her is too easy for you, she will not trust you. You can accomplish your sacrifices symbolically at first, by leaving work early to buy flowers, canceling your softball game to make a date, that sort of thing.

 

Why does it seem like the rich and famous guys get all the women?

It is partly because the rich and famous are capable of making larger sacrifices. The average man might be sacrificing a night of television to be with a woman. The rich and famous man could be sacrificing a week in Tahiti. There is much to be said about the attraction of power and confidence exuded by a rich and powerful man, but capacity for sacrifice is the most important thing.

 

(I may not be rich or famous but Oh! I’ve sacrificed a lot- a lot of time and effort ...even money! More that I’d ever admit. But it was only because I believed she was worth every bit of it. 

I’d be ashamed if I did it for myself,if I had selfish reasons, but honestly I did it for her.)

 

Men believe value is created by accomplishment, and they have objectives for the women in their lives. If a woman meets the objectives, he assumes she loves him. If she fails to meet the objectives, he will assume she does not love him. The man assumes that if the woman loved him she would have tried harder and he always believes his objectives for her are reasonable.

 

What objectives?

The objectives are different for each man. Men rarely share these objectives because doing so is a recipe for disaster.

 

(Elsewhere in my blog I have used the term expectations instead of objectives. They both mean the same in the given context.  

Unfulfilled  or broken expectations (objectives), in my opinion, cause most of the heartbreaks. I may have been guilty of thinking that my expectations could be easily met by her, because others have met it often without much effort and often without my wanting or asking)

 

No woman would tolerate being given a set of goals.

 

(I know that because I've tried that. Never give a woman a list of things that you expect from her.She'll find it demeaning.

 Scott Adams tells you that women wouldn't tolerate it.

Of course that's true...Once you have told her…then...It is the loss of innocence…it is finally facing the naked truth …that things could have been better…but once acknowledged the knowledge hangs prominently like an ugly stain –an ugly stain of truth…which we all had pretended that it did not exist in the first place. There is a saying in Sanskrit which goes “Say the truth, or say what is sweet to hear. Do not say the truth that is bitter to swallow.”)

 

So what should a guy do if the woman in his life doesn’t meet these secret objectives? How can he get her to change?

 

He can’t.(Deep resounding evil maniacal laughter)

 

People don’t change to meet the objectives of other people. Men can be molded in small ways—clothing and haircuts and manners—because those things are not important to most men. Women can’t be changed at all!   

(Is Scott Adams implying that women value their individuality more than men? BUT I'm so glad to know that! It means that I don't have to wait anymore; because I know people are incapable of change .

Not just women, even Men cannot be changed where it matters to them.Try to make a chain smoker quit smoking and you’ll know)

 

The best you can hope for in a relationship is to find someone whose flaws are the sort you don’t mind. It is futile to look for someone who has no flaws, or someone who is capable of significant change; that sort of person exists only in our imaginations!

 

(At the end of the day, I’d choose someone with whom I can comfortably talk to for hours than a beautiful yet dumb bimbo who'd make me yawn after five minutes. in it for the long term.After years, beauty may fade, but the comfort factor can only increase between two people. I want to get old comfortably but not bored.)

 

Kenton Knepper, a world famous mentalist writes "There is a main difference between the way men and women face life: Men choose, but women decide.

Men concentrate on options. Women focus on the act of actually deciding. Since the role of men in society has been primarily the same, the role of a provider, men tend to walk straight paths, even when there is doubt or failure. Women face now the possibility of becoming providers and by doing so they usually reject their traditional role as mothers and supporters of men.

When men choose, they are choosing between one option and the other one, in a forward motion. Women always have the feeling of being forced to decide a completely different path in each choice, not options on the path. This generates a lot of tension and worry. Contemporary women are often wondering if the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. Different from men, that "other side of the fence" is not another job or venture, but an entirely different way of life.

Women also tend to feel that they give too much and that their partners do not always reciprocate their investment. This is especially true in matters of communication and emotion.

 

And back to Scott Adams…

 

A woman needs to be told that you would sacrifice anything for her. A man needs to be told he is being useful. 

(It’s true…the worst you can make any man feel is to make him feel inconsequential.I remember a scene from the movie Young Victoria, where Prince Albert makes an earnest confession when he says “I wish to be of use to you”. 

That is how men show they love you…by being useful to you. Young Queen Victoria replies that she understands ,but not yet. Here they are candid about it and understand each other)

 

When the man or woman strays from that formula, the other loses trust. When trust is lost, communication falls apart.

Without trust, you can communicate only trivial things. If you try to communicate something important without a foundation of trust, you will be suspected of having a secret agenda. Your words will be analyzed for hidden meaning and your simple message will be clouded by suspicions.

 

How can I be more trusted?

You should lie about your talents and accomplishments, describing your victories in dismissive terms as if they were the result of luck. And you should exaggerate your flaws.

(I believe that being able to lie to a certain extent is necessary for a good relationship, especially if it is about not hurting them with insensitive honesty….No honey, you look fabulous in that dress, Of course , you can repair that engine all by yourself, No son…you are not a weirdo)

 

Isn't’t it better to be honest?

Honesty is like food. Both are necessary, but too much of either creates discomfort. When you downplay your accomplishments, you make people feel better about their own accomplishments. It is dishonest, but it is kind.

 

(My friend does that. He is incredibly talented and has accomplished a lot when you compare him to the rest of his peers. Yet no one is ever jealous of him. In all my years, I would be at awe at his towering intellect and genius, but never even once was jealous of him. He never allowed it to happen! He would constantly attribute his successes to luck than his efforts. He is kind and considerate in that way that he doesn’t rub his success in our collective faces. In many ways, I'm proud to have him as my friend and value his opinions.)

 

What about small talk?

You think casual conversation is a waste of time. Your problem is that you view conversation as a way to exchange information.

Conversation is more than the sum of the words. It is also a way of signaling the importance of another person by showing your willingness to give that person your rarest resource: time. It is a way of conveying respect. Conversation reminds us that we are part of a greater whole, connected in some way that transcends duty or bloodline or commerce.

Conversation can be many things, but it can never be useless.

 

(I always remember what Raknax wrote. He nailed it on the head when he wrote “Conversation is the King”. I remember that reading it made me think that I should have friends like him.)

 

A few other ingredients for successful social living:

Express gratitude. (Check)

Give more than is expected 

(I always give more than I receive. Why? Volume! Volume! Volume! )

Speak optimistically (check). 

Touch people (ok, this will be hard. I’m a little touchy on that issue). 

Remember names (check).

Don’t confuse flexibility with weakness

(This ones hard.When does flexibility become weakness? Is bending backwards a sign of flexibility or a weak spine?).

Don’t judge people by their mistakes; rather, judge them by how they respond to their mistakes (Ok, I’ll wait and watch).

Remember that your physical appearance is for the benefit of others (check).

Attend to your own basic needs first; otherwise you will not be useful to anyone else. (Check)

 

-heavily paraphrased from Scott Adams’  ‘God’s Debris’.

(Finally I’d like to add that I don’t want anyone to be compelled to fall in love with me, just because I love her.

It doesn’t matter whether I’ve loved you for 7 years or seventy.

 If you don’t love me, IT’S OK. 

It was just something that was not meant to be.

Who knows…maybe by not falling in love with me, you might have done me a favour.

I don’t want anyone to fall in love with me because I’ve blackmailed her…or because she’s the only one I’ve ever loved. Love is sometimes a one-way street.)

Men Teach Women to Pickup Men!

http://www.sfweekly.com/2010-03-03/news/girl-game/1
Category: WTF were you thinking?

Carlinspeak

Ladies First

I notice a lot of this "comedy" they have on television is about relationships. Do you ever see this stuff? Relationship comedy? Well, I don't know much about relationships, but over the years I've noticed a few things about the two sexes, and I'd like to discuss them. 

Men and women:the big,hairy, noisy male creatures, and the smaller, smoother, but nonetheless also quite noisy, female creatures.

Here's all you need to know about men and women: Women are crazy, men are stupid.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And the main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid. It's not the only reason, but it's a big one.

And by the way, if you don't think men are stupid, check the newspaper. Ninety-nine percent of all the truly horrifying shit going on in this world was initiated, established, perpetrated, enabled or continued by men. And that includes the wave and the high five, two of history his truly low points.

But as I say, besides knowing that men are stupid, it's also important to remember that women are crazy. And if you don't think women are crazy, ask a man. That's the one thing men aren't stupid about; they know for sure, way down deep in their hearts, that women are straight-out fuckin nuts.

But it doesn't just happen; it isn't an accident. Women have good reason to be nuts, the main one being that in the course of life, compared with men, they have far more to put up with; they bear greater burdens. Think of it this way: In the Big Cosmic Cafeteria, as human beings move down the chow line of life and reach that section where the shit is being spooned out, women are given several extra portions.

And please understand, my motives here are not selfish or personal. I'm not saying all this stuff to get in good with women although an occasional blow job would be nice. But it's not a requirement. It's optional.

 BJO: Blow Job Optional. No, I just think it should be evident to

any person who's being honest and thinking clearly that women carry a lot more of life's baggage than men.

To begin with, they're smaller and weaker, so they get slapped, punched, raped, abused and, in general, get the shit beaten out of them on a rather regular basis. By men, of course, who are stronger. If women were stronger, this wouldn't be happening. Men would not raise a hand if they thought the balance was more equal; they would back down quickly. Then again, if women were stronger, they would probably be beating the shit out of men just for the fun of it. It's only fair.

APPEARANCE IS EVERYTHING

Another major problem for women: They have to look good all the time or at least they think they do. So they'll be attractive to their male protectors. "Gotta look good tonight, Joey's gonna beat the shit out of me. Maybe I can get a nice kick in the fuckin' mouth. Gotta look my best."

And looking one's female best requires a lot of things. Start with cosmetics. Just think ofall the products and procedures a woman is forced to deal with in the world of cosmetics:cleansers,toners, foundation, blush, face powder, lipstick, lip gloss, lip liner, eyeliner, eye shadow,eyebrow pencil, mascara, nail polish, nail polish remover, manicures, pedicures, fake fingernails, fake eyelashes...

GIMME SOME SKIN

... face cream, neck cream, eye cream, thigh cream, root cream, day cream, night cream, cold cream, wrinkle remover, makeup remover, hand lotions, body lotions, bath oils, bath beads, shower gels, bubble baths, scented baths, perfumes, colognes, toilet water, astringents, moisturizers, emulsions, exfoliants, peels, scrubs, depilatories, body wraps, facial masks...

HAIR HAIR!

... shampoos, conditioners, bleaches, dyes, rinses, tints, perms, straighteners, wigs, falls,rats,extensions, combs, barrettes, bobby pins, hairpins, hairnets, hair curlers, scrunchies,ribbons,bows, debacles, headbands...

PROCEDURES

... streaking, frosting, teasing, spraying, moussing, blow drying, cutting, layering, curling,eyelash curling, eyebrow plucking, armpit shaving, leg shaving, crotch shaving, crotchwaxing,leg waxing, eyebrow waxing...

And a purse! A big fuckin' purse so she can carry all this shit around with her. Especially the makeup, which must be close at hand at all times. "Gotta have my makeup. In case I run into Joey and he wants to beat the shit outta me. I gotta look my best. Maybe he'll punch me repeatedly in the kidneys and the stomach so it doesn't mark up my face. He's so thoughtful.'

I NAVE NOTHING TO WEAR

And, my friend, I hope you're aware that when we talk about women looking good, we're also talking about clothing. Clothing is what generates all this shopping shit that occupies so much of a woman's time. Because the truth is, women have to buy, own and wear an unbelievably bewildering number of garments:

TAKE IT OFF!!!

Slips, half-slips, camisoles, thongs, panties, pantyhose, stockings, half hose, knee-highs,anklets,socks, leg warmers, garter belts, girdles, corsets, training bras, padded bras, sports bras,nursing bras, push-up bras, strapless bras, Wonderbras, bustiers, teddies, petticoats, peignoirs,negligees,nightgowns, shorties, muumuus, body stockings... (muumuus - don't they sound so cute? I can say 'muumuu-muumuu' all day)

TOP TO BOTTOM

... blouses, sweaters, jerseys, pullovers, halter tops, miniskirts, maxiskirts, slacks, suits, sunsuits, business suits, pants suits, culottes, capris, shorts, short shorts, hot pants, formal gowns,bridal gowns, evening gowns, street dresses, sundresses, cocktail dresses, housedresses, housecoats, winter coats, fall coats, spring coats, hats and scarves...

BAUBLES & BANGLES

... brooches, pins, necklaces, pendants, medallions, lockets, bracelets, ankle bracelets, earrings,wedding rings, engagement rings, friendship rings, thumb rings, toe rings and (optional,of course) nipple, nose and labia rings.

And let's not even begin to talk about shoes. Oh, God! Sorry girls! I take it back. But atleast let's keep it brief: tennis shoes, sandals, open-toes, slingbacks, mules, wedgies, flats,half-heels and...high heels. High heels that damage a woman's feet, ankles and knees, but make her ass and legs look great, so how can you blame a guy for the occasional rape? "Hey, the bitch was askin' for it, she was wearin' high heels."

DOWN THE AISLE

Now, generally, all this obsession with appearance has one purpose. It's supposed to lead to romance and it is devoutly wished by some a wedding. A wedding is another one of those good deals women get: The man "takes a wife," the woman is "given away," her family pays for the whole thing, and everyone stands around hoping she gets pregnant immediately.

KNOCK KNOCK!

Pregnant! Hey, another terrific treat for the gals! A chance to gain forty pounds, puke in the morning, walk like a duck, get sore tits and develop a nice case of hemorrhoids. What a deal!

And such attractive clothing. Plus, she can't get up off the couch without help. Well, it's her own fault. This wouldn't have happened if she had taken her birth control pill or used her diaphragm.

Notice: her pill, her diaphragm.

AND BABY MAKES WORK

But think of how fulfilling it can be. After all, now she has a baby; a baby she gets to raise practically alone. And if she decides to be a stay-at-home mom, she gets to cook, clean, sew, scrub, scour, wax, wash, dry, iron, do the shopping, drive the van and entertain the guests.

She's a housewife! An unpaid, in-family domestic servant. Admittedly, that description is a bit more in line with the old model. The new model is so much better: She 'gets a fuckin' job so she can be bringin' something' in." But, somehow, she still winds up being an unpaid, in-family domestic servant after she gets home from the job.

You know, the job? Where she gets paid less than men for the same work, does not rise beyond a certain level in the company and gets harassed all day long by some oversexed moron with a lump in his pants.

Probably better just to stay home where she doesn't have to be bothered with that pesky paycheck crap, and there his none of that nonsense about Social Security, pension plans and unemployment money in case of divorce. Just alimony and child support... if the ex-husband can

be located. The ex who probably thought she was looking a little used up and dumped her for someone whose milk glands hadn't sagged yet.

Can't forget those milk glands, can we, girls? Tits! Two tits, sticking straight out of your chest; in some cases sticking straight out. Well, for a few years, anyway. Yes, girls, just by virtue of being female, you get to walk around all your life with two vulnerable milk glands hanging out in front of you like lanterns. 

                And if, somehow, you should get the idea that men don't approve of the size and shape of those milk glands, you'll find plenty of social pressure to have them artificially "enhanced." Such enhancement usually will be performed and supervised by men.

Here's another physical treat for females: periods! Cramping, bloating and bleeding five days a month. Fifteen percent of the time. And you can add the time spent with premenstrual syndrome.PMS. Men gave it that name. If women had named it, it would be called My several daysof

shrieking and crying and depression, just before my several days of bleeding, cramping and bloating." Men don't quite see it from that angle. Men experience PMS as a problem for them.

"What's the matter, Joey? You don't look so good."

"Ahhhh, my wife's got the PMS."

Here are some more special female advantages in case you haven't had enough: pap smears, mammograms, hysterectomies, mastectomies, miscarriages, abortions, labor pains, childbirth pain, episiotomies, stretch marks and breast-feeding. And postpartum depression. Can't imagine why she wouldn't feel good. And just to top it all off, menopause. Menopause! More strange behavior and exciting physical sensations.

And in exchange for all this, in exchange for all this abuse from nature, what is the woman's payoff? Why, she's allowed to get into the lifeboat first. At least theoretically. How often do you think that really happens? Oh, and let's not forget, many men are quite willing to hold the door open for her. In fact, some men are quite impressed with their willingness to do this; they brag about it: 'Yeah, I beat the shit out of her a lot, but when she runs from one room to the other, I always hold the door open."

I'll tell you what a bad deal women got: They're in the majority on this planet, and they still wound up with the shitty end of the stick. That's how big a hosing they got.

Oh, and one other inequity I neglected to mention; very unequal. But this one works in women's favor: They live longer than men. And remember this happens in spite of all the shit they have to put up with. So who do you think is tougher? Men or women? Why don't you guess. And don'tforget, women have the huge added burden of having to put up with men.

Its Raining Men

----------------

Man, Oh Man!

To my way of thinking, men have only one real problem: other men. That's where all the

troublestarts. A long time ago, men gave away their power. To other men: princes, kings,wizards,generals and high priests. They gave it away, because they believed what these other mentold them. They bought the okeydoke. The bullshit. Men always buy the okeydoke when it comes from other men.

Some stranger probably stood up at a campfire and said, "All right, boys, from now on, I'm the king. The sun is my father, the moon is my mother and they're the ones who tell me when to throw the virgins into the volcano. Til be expecting all of you to bow deeply when you see me, and give me half your crops. Plus I'm allowed to fuck your wife. And don't forget, if I want to I can concentrate real hard and make your head explode.'

And the other men around the campfire nodded their heads and said to one another, "This guy makes a lot of sense." A man will always buy the bullshit, because a man is not too bright. But I'm not suggesting a man doesn't have a great deal to put up with. He does. First of all, a man

has to make believe he knows what he's doing at all times. And while he's doing whatever it is he's doing, he has to make believe he doesn't need any help. He has to make believe he can fix anything. And if he can't fix it now, he'll fix it later. And if he can't fix it later, he has a friend who can fix it, and if not, it was no good to start with, it's not worth fixing, and besides, he knows where he can get something better, much cheaper, but they're all outta them right now, and besides, they're closed. This is the male disease. It's called

being full of shit.

The male disease includes the need to be in charge at all times. In charge, in control, in command. A "real man" sees himself as king of the hill, leader of the pack, captain of the ship.

But all the while, in order to fit in and belong, he has to act like all the other men and do what they do, so he'll be accepted. And get a good job and a promotion and a raise and a Porsche, and a wife. A wife who will immediately trade in the Porsche on a nice, sensible Dodge

van with folding seats so they can be like all the other boring families. The poor fuck. The poor stupid fuck.

His manliness also requires that he refuse to go to a doctor or a hospital unless it can be demonstrated to him that he has, in fact, been clinically dead for six months. No sense going' to the hospital, honey, I don't seem to be in a coma." Therefore, he must learn to ignore pain.

"It doesn't really hurt. Bleeding from six holes in the head doesn't really hurt. Just gimme the remote and get me a beer. And get the fuck outta here."

Most men learn this stupid shit from their fathers. Fathers teach their sons not to cry. "Don't let me hear you cryin' or I'll come up there and give you something to cry about!' Great stuff, hah?

All the problems in the world repeat, all the problems in the world can be traced to what fathers do to their sons.

So, little boys learn to hide their feelings, and society likes that because, that way, when they get to be eighteen, they'll able to go overseas and kill strangers without feeling anything. And of course, that bargain includes a certain reluctant willingness to have their balls shot off: "Honey, I have to go overseas and have my balls shot off, or else the rest of the guys will think I'm too afraid to go overseas and have my balls shot off.' The poor fucks. The poor stupid fucks.

And so, as a result of all this repression of feelings, the extent of the average man his emotional expression is the high five. Or sometimes, when really deep feelings emerge, both hands. The high ten. This is raw emotion. And that's about all they're capable of. And they have Dad

to thank. Thanks, Dad.

But wait! Don't think dads can't be fun at times, too. After all, dads introduce their sons to the Wonderful World of Menthe male subcultures. The really tough-guy, masculine, he-man stuff.

No wimps, no pussies, no softies.

There are five deadly male subcultures and they all overlap: the car and machinery culture, the police and military culture, the outdoors and gun culture, the sports and competition culture and the drug and alcohol culture. And, as a bonus, I'm gonna throw in one more: the "Let's go get some pussy and beat the shit outta queers" culture. As I say, they all overlap. Many men belong to all six.

This male universe is, of course, detectable by analyzing its combustible chemical formula:

gasoline, gunpowder, alcohol and adrenaline. 

A chemistry rendered even more lethal by that ever-present, ever-delightful accelerant: testosterone. Talk about substance abuse! If it's

chemical dependency you're interested in, you might want to look into testosterone.

TESSTAHSSTER-OWN!!the most lethal substance on earth. And it does not come from a

laboratory, it comes from the scrotum; a scrotum located, interestingly enough, not far

from the asshole. How fitting.

And, as it happens, all these male subcultures share a particular set of features: homophobia, coupled with an oddly ironic, complete, childlike trust in male authority. Men are attracted to powerful men. They also share a strong fear and dislike of women. This in spite of a

pathological obsession with pussy. TESSTAHSSTEROWN!!

So why are men like this? I think the overriding problem for men is that in life's main event, reproduction, they're left out; women do all the work. What do men contribute?

Generally, they're just looking for a quick parking space for some sperm. A couple of hits of hot jism, and the volume on the TV goes right back up. It's my belief that most of these flawed male chromosomes should not be allowed to go forward for even one more unfortunate generation.

But such is biology.

And so, excluded as they are from reproduction, men must find other ways to feel useful and worthwhile. As a result, they measure themselves by the size of their guns, the size of their cars, the size of their dicks and the size of their wallets. All contests that no man can win

consistently.

And let me tell you why all this happened. Because women are the source of all human life. The first human being came from the belly of a female. And all human fetuses begin as females. The brain itself is basically female until hormones act on it to make it structurally male.

So, in reality, all men are modified females. Where do you think those nipples came from, guys?

You're an afterthought. Maybe that's what's bothering you. Is that what's on your mind, Bunkie?

That would explain the hostility: Women got the good job, men got the shitty one.

Females create life, males end it. War, crime and violence are primarily male franchises. Man-shit.

It's nature's supreme joke. Deep in the womb, men start out as the good thing and wind up as the crappy thing. Not all men, just enough. Just enough to fuck things up. And the dumbest part of it all is that not only do men accept all this shit... they do it to themselves.

By the way, I'm not letting women completely off the hook. After all, the one part of the lower anatomy that is the same in both sexes is the asshole. But women who are assholes aren't called that. They're named for a different part of their lower anatomy. They're called cunts. Isn't

it nice that cunts and assholes are next-door neighbors?

-George Carlin ,When will Jesus bring the pork chops?

(George Carlin was a womanthropologist among other things.)

Intelligent women have better sex...or Why you should date a Geek Chick

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1180583/Bad-luck-bimbos-Intelligent-women-better-sex-study-reveals.html
Bad luck bimbos: Intelligent women have better sex, study reveals...Or why you should date a geek!

Shall We Dance?

Some stories have to be told many a times to others before you finally tell them to yourselves.
This is one of those.

Male bonding is funny..We guys do some really girly stuff when we think no one is watching.

In one ship,my friend and I used to bond in ways we wouldn't acknowledge publicly.

Yes I'm ashamed to admit it, but we watched Rom-coms and chick flicks together.

(They are easy on the brain and it doesn't matter if you follow the plot or storyline and as such are excellent at the end of a tiring day)

                           One of our favourite movies was 'Shall We Dance', starring Richard Gere and Jennifer Lo-Pants(Lopez) and the ever beautiful Susan Sarandon.(I'm not overlooking very memorable performances by Stanley Tucci and Bobby Cannavale, whose histrionics were more entertaining than that of the rest of the cast)

                   Much as I hate to admit it, it was my fantasy to actually go through the same experiences, to stumble and learn how to dance,and magically undergo a life altering transformation and become a Dancing God!  (I'm stumbling a lot)

I'm told Men who dance well are considered sexy, desirable or gay.
Hey I'd like to be sexy and desirable and happy too !   (just not gay)

But there was a problem...my own past.
Once as a kid, I took dancing lessons...but just one class.

My body did not listen to me.I couldn't do a single step my instructor taught me.The longer I was in the class, the more ashamed I felt about myself .

Humiliated and Disgusted at myself, I quit, never to return.

Years later,when I took Public Speaking lessons ,one of my shortcomings that everyone pointed out was my stiff and mechanical body .My nickname was 'The Soldier !

Attention !

Stand Hut!

The solution offered by my teacher was ...yes you guessed right...Dance Lessons!

It was Nietzsche who said "What I am not,that for me is God and virtue'

I surround myself with friends who are better than me (yes you too!), for you have something in you that I admire and aspire to be.

           Similarly I have a cousin who is gifted with the ability to dance...I'm fond of her,and admire her for what she could and I lacked.I used to listen to her talk about dancing and her love for the art with rapt attention.(I must confess;I couldn't understand much of what she said, but was endlessly fascinated)

In my mind, my biggest weakness was my inability to coordinate my body in a graceful manner.

So when I found that my friend had joined a dance class,I decided to join myself...after all misery loves company.(my friend professed to be equally bad at dancing)

But what if I was a miserable failure like before?

What if I disgusted myself once again?

What if I make a fool of myself?

"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread"

                     As always, I go by the following adage...and I wouldn't want to rush in like a fool without actually knowing what I was getting into.

Thanks to the internet, I found a few videos and tutorials that supposedly would aid me in some way.

Here is my favourite one...

 

and another...

Boy,Was I wrong!

                Videos cannot substitute real live tutors and active feedback...also, the dancers in the video were too good and their natural ease and comfort made me depressed about my own lack of grace and coordination.

But guess what...I was not the same old boy anymore,I had changed.

   We had joined for a crash course in salsa and jive.

               The term crash course has omnious connotations but I had made up my mind to succeed where once I had failed.

                        In my research, I came to know that Salsa is a very popular dance form in Latin America, U.S and Europe. The word is the same as the salsa meaning sauce, metaphorically referring the music and dance being "saucy","Spicy" and "tasty".

Yumm!

                There are different styles that developed in different regions: New York style salsa, Puerto Rican salsa, Cuban style, California style.(I seem to be learning the Manglorean Salsa with a healthy helping of fish curry )

                          Normally Salsa is a partner dance, danced in a handhold.In partner dancing, the two partners are labelled as the lead and the follow, or leader and follower. Traditionally, the male partner leads and the female partner follows.

Now read this carefully...A lead controls the way the dance will go. He decides which moves or figures will be danced, and how to move the follow. The follow does what the name implies, and follows the lead. For the lead and follow to interact with each other, a connection must be established.

One goal of partner dancing is to move in ways that one dancer alone cannot.

                   I took up dance to unlearn stiffness and rigidity and to learn the art of gracefulness.However grace seems to be innate or maybe it is inherited -an elusive quality embedded in the chromosomes-passed on from generation to generation onto select offspring by divine providence.

                  I say that because when I look at myself dance in the mirror, I see a boxer looking for a street fight, a MMA fighter getting ready for a sparring session, a bull charging in a china shop...I don't like to look when I dance.Period.

But here was the crucial difference.

Once upon a time, I had gone to learn a solo style of dance.The entire emphasis was on me and also the pressure to perform.

I hated it.

This time it was a partner dance.I genuinly felt I could learn more than just dancing from this endeavor.

            A popular joke goes something like this...Dancing is a wonderful training for girls;its the first way to learn to guess what a man is going to do before he does it.

                             It's not entirely true...The partner that follows and the one that leads both have to possess an inner drive to follow the soul of the dance and rhythm.

                              It's true that the lead controls the way the dance will go. He decides which moves or figures will be danced, and how to move the follow. The follow does what the name implies, and follows the lead.

                         Beginning leads try to control 99% of the dance. Advanced leads try to control 51% of the dance. The follow styles her own moves as she likes within the parameters communicated by the lead.

                 Learning to lead or to follow forces upon you a sensitivity and receptivity to subtle signals.

               I'm an ogre by all standards, lacking sensitivity but now I'm forced to gently lead my partner with pushes,pulls and gentle nudges.Dance teaches you the subtle art of non-verbal communication...to talk without words.

You learn to deal with diferent partners with different personalities:the stiff, the tender,the soft,the nervous,the light,the innocent and the unyielding.

                          I'm afraid to extend the metphor of dance to life,even though many claim that it is so.One word -"Feminists" and then two more words-"Political Correctness"make me queasy and uneasy.

                          If I say Dance is Life...that the world is a ballroom and we are the dancers...just as once Shakespeare did with the stage ,then the issue of man taking a lead and the female following might seem offensive and regressive and politically incorrect to many feminists and pseudo-feminists(I'm looking at you guys who act like broad minded feminists to impress women.You are truly snakes in the grass)

Dance is an art form,where the art should be highlighted above the artists.It is a form of expression and it should transcend  gender politics.

(wikipedia tells me that promenade-style dancing has no lead or follow, and that homosexuals in various parts of the world dance in exclusive venues making the gender politics partly redundant)

It is true though...Some women don't like to be led.They simply cannot follow.Maybe they are not accustomed to it.So they march to the beat of their own drummer,much to everyones chagrin.

"If the leader cannot lead, or if the follower cannot follow, it no longer remains a dance;it becomes a wrestling match" says my teacher .

I agree.

Sometimes we fight when we dance.

It ain't pretty.

No Irony

The taste
of you
still lingers
on my
thought tongue

- John O' Sullivan

With trembling hands
unsteady fingers
deleted
your number.

I'd never
cave in
to temptation
and fall.

I phoned
an old friend
by mistake
yesterday

I refused
to remove
her name
after she died

She did not
answer.

Opposites 'Don't' Attract

Do opposites really attract? A new study finds that when it comes to personality, people seek partners with their same qualities — but claim to want someone who is different.

The study, recently published in the journal Evolutionary Psychology, asked 760 members of an online dating site to answer questionnaires regarding their personality traits, as well as the traits they would want in an ideal long-term partner. They then were asked if they most wanted a partner that complemented them, or resembled them.

The answers showed a preference for someone with the same sort of personality; the traits, which included neuroticism, extraversion, openness, agreeableness, and conscientiousness, all had positive participant-to-partner correlations, ranging from .51 to .62.

These findings are supported by previous research. A study conducted by the University of Iowa in 2005, for example, stated that similarity in personality was more important than similarities in attitude, religion, and values in forming a happy marriage. Like-minded people validate each other's beliefs and views, and there tend to be fewer conflicts as a result.

But despite the personality correlations, the new study has found that 85.7 percent of participants claim to want someone who has their opposite traits.

"When asked about their preferences for a mate, people may partially draw upon lay theories of romantic attraction rather than their true desires for a mate," says Pieternel Dijkstra, a professor at the University of Groningen in the Netherlands and the study's lead researcher.

One popular theory is that opposites attract; another is that having a similar partner would be "boring." But Dijkstra says these theories often prove untenable in real life.

"Although many individuals occasionally feel attracted to 'opposites,' attractions between opposites often do not develop into serious intimate relationships and, when they do, these relationships often end prematurely," she said.

The study also found that in addition to looking for a similar partner, women wanted men who were conscientious, outgoing, and emotionally stable, all traits that indicate an investment in the relationship and in any potential children.

However, "there were no particular traits that men seemed to prefer more than women," according to Dijkstra . For both sexes, finding common ground is a top priority.

So remember...