Return To The Bay Of Pigs!

A long, long time ago, I had written a piece on how men can be more successful in wooing women. I had come across a lot of men who had complained to me about the difficulties they were facing when trying to talk to a woman or flirt with a woman.

Recently, a close stranger read this post (titled ‘Bay Of Pigs’) and decided to write a rebuttal for each of the points, this time from a woman’s perspective. What started out as an experiment in killing time soon became an insightful glimpse into the mind of women, what they think of men and what they expect from a man when he tries to flirt.

You need to read the original post for this to make sense, because in the interest of time and keeping in mind my readers with attention deficit disorders, I’ve edited those parts of this article that belong to the original.

Bay Of Pigs: Redux

(Note: The text in italicized black is part of the original post, while the text in brown belongs to the stranger, the woman who wanted to argue. Any mistakes in spelling or grammar are entirely my own and not the fault of the guest author.)

men-are-pigs

Men are pigs.

They say that God created Man because he was bored and that He created Woman because he needed a challenge. Man is the blueprint while Woman is the masterpiece. […] Men can consider this post as an eye-opener and take stock of what qualities they lack, and women can consider this post as an easy read and be amazed at my insight into the female mind.

Men are pigs. Truer words were never spoken!

1. Sense of humor: Most women look for funny men. But be warned, being funny does not mean cracking inane jokes and making complete idiots of yourself. It’s the wit that counts and not your ability to remember jokes. […] Just make sure you’re laughing with them, and recognize when they’re laughing at you!

A good sense of humour does appear to be amongst the top 3 of “what women want”, and the author appears to have it figured out. I think this is what most women want. On the other hand, I wouldn’t want a man that can make me laugh as such, rather, I like it when a man can keep it simple. By this I mean, a light and easy-going conversation is favored. I am the kind of person that is rather shameless, and have no qualms about laughing at myself. Men seem to love making jokes at the expense of the ladies around them, and get terribly disappointed when it isn’t received well by their female counterpart. In that regard, I am a good subject of jokes, I would say, because I almost always laugh along.

2. Build: Women are very realistic unlike men, and they know that not all men can have a body as hot as Arnie and Stallone. […] We men need to be realistic, and not stupidly optimistic. All women are hot, no exceptions!

Let me make this clear – most women do not aspire to be at the arm of men like Arnie; Stallone maybe, but not because of his build! Men are the only ones that want Arnie bodies. I wouldn’t want a “flabby piece of shapeless dough” (I’m shallow that way) I would like a fit guy though. Let’s face it – they’re so much more fun to look at, and show off! We women tend to look awesome pretty much all of the time (unless we’re caught in midst of beauty treatments like face masks or oily hair) and men need to realise they should at least try to live up to the standard we set so early on. Digressing from build, allow me also to add that well-groomed (which means well dressed, clean and smelling good, just in case you’re clueless) is what we’re looking for. So if you’re going to show up in denims and a sweatshirt, make sure you look cute while you’re at it, would you?

3. Chivalry: The concept of chivalry, for most men, stops at holding the door open to women. Wake up, men! That’s not all what women look for in the chivalry department. […] It takes great skill and greater patience to hold your own and also defend her while arguing in a group.

Ah! This is the tricky one. You don’t want to be chivalrous to a point where we constantly feel like damsels with faint hearts,  but you don’t want to be so aloof that we feel like you don’t care. It has to be just the right amount. That’s all I will say here. Why should we make it easy for you all the way? 

4. Possessiveness: Women like men to be possessive about them. It makes them feel special and wanted. […] For more advice on this, mail me.

Do men actually enjoy being possessive? Oh yes, you have the whole Neanderthal way of expressing ownership. You might as well pee all over us to state we’re “yours”! I personally don’t like possessive men. If a guy were to “tell me at every opportunity that they’re….” yaaaaaaaawn.. Oh MY, I think I just dozed off there a second! No no noooo! I really don’t want to hear that, I’d probably end up punching you in the nose!

5. Music: Women hate tone-deaf men. Every woman has a particular taste in music and it may not always match with yours. […] Listen to her favorite tracks with her, and encourage her to play it again if she wants to. You can pull your hair out later, when you’re alone.

Looking at the next point I’d like to say, mood music is very important – make it sensuous, trust me, you’ll enjoy it too (if you can get past the fact that you’re getting it on!) I don’t know about most women’s taste in music, but I’m always open to listening to new genres of music. In fact, most of the music I listen to today was introduced to me by men. If you don’t listen to death metal and the screeching, banging sort, I’m good to go. Some women really seem to enjoy sappy music, and that’s where I think you men should just take a stance and say, “hell no!” (and knock some sense into your lady’s head, please!)

6. Sex: Do not, I repeat, do not push the woman for a physical relationship. Women are very, very careful in this matter and if you push the wrong buttons (no puns intended) you come across as a sexually-frustrated despo! Be careful!

You have to tread carefully in this department. Women may say they are alright with casual sex, and want no strings, etc. but trust me, they almost always hope that strings will develop, that they dazzle you with their sexual skills, and you’ll fall in love with them. Sometimes that does happen, but I’ve noticed that men are capable of knowing the difference and maintaining it, women are NOT. I would suggest, if you really like the girl, take it at an easy pace in this department, and things will fall into place nicely.

7. Family Values: Most women like men who have good family values. Respect her parents and her family and she will like you all the more. Never ever call her dad “Dude!” or “Old Man!” because that will being down your brownie points!

What gets to me the most about a lot of Indian men is that they’re “mumma’s boys” and they want their partners to be as domestically awesome as their mothers. It’s all very well that you love your folks, in fact, I endorse it, but come on – recognize! I don’t know about other women, but that’s a big turn off for me. On the other hand, I don’t expect that my partner will get along brilliantly with my folks. It’s almost a universal fact that there will be friction between them. That’s what keeps life interesting, eh?

(On an entirely unrelated note – what exactly are brownie points? Am I allowed to cash them in for an actual brownie or two?)

8. Perseverance: Women like to be pursued with vigor. They hate being ‘flung’ around, if you know what I mean. […] Trust me, it works!

This one’s true, makes us feel special and adds the whole romantic movie atmosphere to real life. Lots of fun! Keep it real, don’t be a big pile of mush, because that gets old real quick. We like to be shy and coy and play hard to get – it makes the whole deal feel that much more special. Indulge us, would you?

9. Fighting: Fights are inevitable in every relationship, and when there are situations where you know that the reason is trivial, just take the blame. […] You do not blame the woman!

Don’t be irrational, that’s all. We are always right, that’s true, but we would get suspicious if you always agree – we’re smart that way. And that would lead to a whole new set of fights! So pick your battles, men, put your ego aside, in fact, maybe its best if you forget you have one, while you’re with us! 

10. The Ex- factor: Do not, I repeat, do not maintain contacts with your ex- girlfriends while you’re pursuing a woman, or when you’re in another relationship. […]

Hmmm, this one is a bit tricky. If you’re staying in the same city as your ex, and have common friends, you are bound to run into her, right? What we want to see is that you’re over her, and there is no residual anything for her. You’re better off if you cut all contact, unless you want to see us turn into raging lunatics? Oh and by the way, we’re complete hypocrites about our own exes – we will want to remain “friends” with ours, and you’re not allowed to protest. So there.

Good luck. Live long and prosper. If you didn’t understand that, you’re no fun, and you’re not a geek, which is what women want! (Or do we?)

AUTHOR’S NOTE

It takes great literary skill and greater convincing skills to get a chance to write for, or be featured on MirrorCracked. To have successfully passed all the barriers and made it on to this forum, I would like to personally extend a warm greeting to the lovely stranger (who has expressed her wish to remain anonymous) for her time and effort in helping men pick up women.

One beer coming your way, ma’am.

We are open for comments, opinions and brickbats, which I will deftly deflect in the stranger’s direction.

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Chennai Chronicles…

Corn And Cheese :)
Corn And Cheese 🙂

This will be a short one. I just got back this morning from Chennai, after spending 3 days  of the long weekend there. These are some of the highlights:

  1. My belt broke on my way to the bus stand, Thursday night. My pant was a bit too loose and I spent the journey in mortal fear of being arrested for indecent exposure.
  2. The bus, when I finally boarded it, was a bit too stuffy, because of a lack of an air-conditioner. I sweated my way to a fitful sleep.
  3. On reaching Chennai, I had 10 cigarettes and no matches to light them with.
  4. I had 11 meetings throughout the long weekend and still did not get my jobs done.
  5. I realized that ‘Darjeeling Tea’ in five-star hotels is actually hot, tea-flavored water. And it costs way too much!
  6. Drank white wine in water glasses and drank water in wine glasses.
  7. I’m not suited for a humid weather. I can’t survive in coastal cities, because I can single-handedly solve the nation’s water problems by sweating.
  8. ‘Egg Masala’ in Chennai is actually a boiled egg with salt and red pepper sprinkled on it.
  9. I can’t speak Tamil to save my life. And, a weird, throaty combination of Hindi and Kannada makes a bad substitute.
  10. One of the three changes of underwear I had brought along belonged to my terrorist brother. So, I was stuck in Chennai for three days with only two changes of underwear. You don’t want to know what I did.
  11. Met Archie, Arvind, Vishesh, Apar and Aparna in a small bloggers’ meet. Yeah, I met Vishesh. I’m not kidding. He’s for real.
  12. On the way back, I got stuck in the very last seat of a ridiculous excuse of a bus, in between two people who gave me a run for my money in the sweating department.
  13. Every time the bus hit a bump, I was flying high, literally.
  14. I arrived this morning in Bangalore, sleep deprived, but in one piece.

Phew, not quite a short one, eh?

Weird Hair Days…

weird-hairI have stubborn hair. I’m not kidding and I’m not making things up. My hair – though considered to be the sexiest thing ever by women all over the world – does have it’s weird days, and today happens to be one of the weirdest. As a rule, I don’t use cosmetics like hair gels, hair sprays and hair wears and other strange inventions. I am quite proud of the fact that my hair, most of the times, does not need much coaxing to fall in place and look presentable. Today, it decided to revolt.

I tried all of the following methods:

  1. Hot water soak
  2. Cold water soak
  3. Jumping up and down
  4. Shaking my head from side to side, vigorously, trying to make it fall in place
  5. Talking to the hair softly, while running my fingers through it, trying to make them sit
  6. Screaming at them and fingering them violently (Fingering them?)
  7. Pulling a few out from the roots in order to threaten the rest
  8. Wearing a cap for ten minutes, hoping they’d sit properly

again-weird-harrWell, none of these techniques worked, and I had to resort to the most primitive of methods – I soaked them in water and while they were recovering from the shock and before they could spring right up, I put my helmet on and drove to work.

No luck. Any ideas, anyone? I don’t use a comb, by the way. Never have. So, if you have any ideas, then make sure a comb isn’t involved. 😀

The Airport Taxi From Hell

airport-taxiThere is mystery in the air. Stop whatever you’re doing and sniff the air around you. If you can ignore the fish and the next guy’s sweat, I think you can smell the mystery in the air. I know I can. I think I am being followed by an airport taxi. Everywhere I go and everywhere I turn, there’s an airport taxi lurking near by. I think there is a conspiracy afoot and yesterday, I thought about it long and hard and I have a feeling that I’ve hit upon the truth.

Once upon a time, I was in love with a strange girl from Hawaii. Her name was Yu Suk, and she was perhaps the third most beautiful woman in the world. We loved each other very mush much and though we were separated by more than 5000 miles of ocean, we believed that one fine day we would be together and live happily every after. The long distance relationship proved to be arduous and drained the both of us completely, and I decided to end it. That’s when she decided to fly down to Bangalore and meet me and show me just how much she loved me. I was over the moon!

I dressed up in my favorite yellow T-shirt and blue jeans and drove all the way to the airport on the day. I reached an hour early and paced up and down, waiting for Yu Suk to arrive. I could hardly stand still in my excitement. I was nervous and feeling a bit horny at the same time! I guess it’s natural.

Finally, the flight monitor indicated that the flight from Hawaii had landed and that passengers were at the customs line. I was waiting right in front of the exit gate, standing behind the ubiquitous group of white-uniformed taxi drivers who were holding up cardboard placards with names of their guests written. Slowly, one by one, the passengers from Hawaii walked out into the bright Bangalore sun, shielded their eyes from the glare and searched for their respective receptions.

The taxi driver in front of me was chatting with his colleague next to him about his wife. He was saying, “What can I do, brother? She just cannot be satisfied every night. I feel she’s draining me out!”

To this, his colleague replied, “You want some help, brother?” and winked and they both burst out laughing. I cringed at the crassness of their conversation, but couldn’t help overhearing it. The first driver continued, “If anyone, ANYONE, mentions the S-word again, I’ll kill them personally!” and they both started guffawing heartily. I just figured that the guy was totally and completely asexual and pitied his wife.

Just then, in the throng of the crowd, I saw her! There she was! Graceful and beautiful and as sexy as ever – wearing her favorite yellow tank top over a flowery knee-length skirt that flowed all around her. Her face was the embodiment of all the love and lust in the world – the high cheekbones, the sexy blue-green eyes, the straight black hair that fell in small fluffy curls just below her shoulder, those petite hips, those firm breasts, those long beautiful eyelashes, oh, I was so much in love!

She looked around her, scanning my waiting crowd from her moving crowd, looking for me, searching for the face of her lover. I waved my hand frantically and called her name out, “Yuuuuuuuuu Suuuuuuuuuuuuk!”

I started running towards her in slow motion. The crowd around me dissolved into fields of poppies, with butterflies fluttering around, the sun shining down with it’s golden rays dripping with love, drenching the two of us in that moment of ecstasy. Her face broke into a beautiful smile as she saw me and she ran towards me in slow motion, through our very own field of poppies. I held out my arms to embrace her, and she held out her arms to run into mine. At that moment, I felt something hard hit me on the back of my head and I tripped over myself and fell face-down on the hard concrete floor of the airport. The field of poppies and the butterflies disappeared and I could just see dazed stars all around me for a few moments.

I was aware of distinct voices – one angry and one concerned – around me. I looked up and saw Yu suk arguing with a taxi driver. It was the guy who was standing in front of me, discussing his wife. I sat up and rubbed the back of my head and saw an old but heavy boot lying next to me. He had thrown a boot at me! That bastard!

“Hey!” I cried standing up. “What the fuck were you thinking throwing shoes at people?” I geared up for a fight.

“You bastard!” he cried. “You abused me verbally!”

I was confused. “Eh, what? When did I do that? Stop talking nonsense!”

“Shut up, you punk! You said, ‘You Suck!’ so loudly that the whole bloody airport heard it!”

So, thus began a hatred, rooted in mis-communication, that spanned the better half of the next decade – a decade that involved a lot of stalking, prank calls, threatening calls and three trips to the police station and one to the hospital. It got so bad that the cops finally had to request me to stop beating him up every time I saw him. I reluctantly agreed and made a deal with the bastard – I’d leave him alone if he accepted that it wasn’t my fault to begin with. He was lying with three broken bones in the hospital bed, covered in bandages from head to toe, when he agreed. I could see hatred in his eyes.

It’s been four years since I’ve heard from him or seen him, and recently, I think I scratched his car by mistake while I was parking my bike near my office. I did not notice the number of the car, but I am damn sure it was him, because when I came back after work, my bike wouldn’t start – there were sugar lumps in the petrol tank and both my tires were flat.

I began noticing his car everywhere I went – the bastard is stalking me! I think it’s time I remind him who the better man is. I think it’s time for him to visit the hospital again. 😀

Moral of the story: Do not believe everything you read on MirrorCracked.

Open Question: If a love bite is called  ‘hickey,’ what’s a love scratch called?

The Dummy’s Guide To Pissing People Off!

piss_off_guide

Of course! It has to be true! Damn right! You need to piss people off all the time! It’s much like the song ‘Iris’ by Goo Goo Dolls, where he croons, “…yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive!” We need to irritate people around us all the time to feel alive. What’s the point of living if you don’t piss someone off? Huh? Tell me!

The scientists at the MirrorCracked Labs are quite busy these days with the grand opening just round the corner. (Oh, you have to watch the video if you haven’t already! It’s pretty neat! A lovely teaser for the MirrorCracked Labs’ grand opening!)  I use the term ‘grand opening’ quite a lot, don’t I?

Sorry, I digress. As I was saying, the scientists are quite busy plotting planning the grand opening, and have relegated this particular Dummy’s Guide to me and me alone. I hope I do justice.

Pissing people off – the heart and soul of our existence. We wouldn’t be here doing what we are doing if someone a hundred thousand years ago hadn’t pissed someone off and started a war. We wouldn’t be here if someone hadn’t pissed on someone else’s joy! You wouldn’t be reading this if someone hadn’t pissed me off and made me write this. So, you have to agree with me that it’s quite important to piss people off all the time. It’s our god-given right. It’s why we were given a voice. It’s why were given the ability to ridicule and irritate and point fingers and laugh. It’s our duty! 🙂

So, how do we do it? How do we achieve the perfect balance between pissing someone off and not getting slapped, shot, kicked in the nuts, stabbed in the back, kicked in the nuts, slapped, slapped, punched in the face, kicked in the nuts again or pushed off a cliff? It takes great care and patience to achieve this feat, and it’s not easy. You need to pay attention.

Pissing Men Off

arnold_angryQuite easy – take a dig at their manhood. Tell them they’re virgins and even if they are, they’ll vehemently deny it. Watching their face go from a normal beige to various shades of red, blue and orange is quite fun. Men are strange in this issue – I don’t know why but they always overplay their sexual exploits and this is the best way to piss a man off.

Of course, the only two other things that matter to a guy is either beer or sports. Ridicule his favorite beer and you might end up on the wrong end of a well-placed kick to the nuts. Ridicule the guy and call him a sissy for watching cricket or golf, and he’ll go stark raving mad.

I’ll let you in on a secret. If you know a guy who is straight and want to piss him off, accuse him of being gay. Oh, he’ll hate you for the rest of his life, and he’ll stay away from cosmetics and watch each of his words carefully whenever you’re around! 😀

PS: I don’t want to dig my own grave in this postscript by saying something about homosexual tendencies that I’ll regret, so I’ll just construct a totally useless sentence.

Pissing Women Off

woman_attackGiven that sex, booze and sports are the only three things that can effectively piss a man off, you’ll find it hard to piss a woman off with these three topics. Women are usually very secure about their sexuality/sex lives and taking a dig at their alcoholic tastes will be like throwing grains of sand at a hurtling train hoping to derail it. And women and sports, well, let me not be a spoilsport, but you know how it goes. (My mom thought F1 cars were battery controlled toys and unmanned!)

So, how do we piss women off? Easy – take a dig at her age. It always works, no exceptions. Tell her, “Oh, you look so much younger in your photographs!” and she’ll hate you with a vehemence second only to a supernova.

Horizontal attacks are also effective. “You seem to have gained some weight,” “Is that an extra-large top?” and “How many months due are you?” are the three most effective way to piss a woman off about her weight. Never fails.

But I am duty bound to warn you – Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Be careful.

Go ahead! Piss someone off today! Live a little! 🙂

Images Courtesy: Arnoldspeaks.com and Randommovieclub.blogspot.com

The Eternal Hotness Of The Coffee Cup! :)

Vijay was right – I should get back to serious posts now that I’m out of my holiday mood. So, I decided to tackle the most serious issue plaguing mankind at present – The Eternal Hotness Of The Coffee Cup.

I know many of you will empathize with my situation with reference to the cup of coffee. My cubicle is quite some distance away from the pantry, and by the time I make the trip back with a cup of hot coffee, the beverage would have become lukewarm, thus ruining my dreams of writing a book, dreaming up characters and plots and themes and story lines while sipping hot coffee.

It’s quite frustrating, especially when you’re a writer. And especially when you have two books in the pipeline and the deadline fast approaching. I tried running with the coffee back to my cubicle and ended up scalding my crotch. Next, I tried to take longer strides to reach my cubicle faster and ended up pulling a crotch muscle. I tried skateboarding back to my cubicle, but I ended up with a bad knee and the wise thought that I needed a skateboard to accomplish that feat. I tried placing the cup on the floor and pushing it with all my strength and running behind it and pushing it again as soon as it stopped, but I skidded on the coffee spill and fell head over heels, literally.

I had visions of myself, sitting at my desk, pecking away at the keyboard and occasionally reaching out for the cup of hot coffee. I had dreams of raising my cup in a toast to the screen whenever a character in the book gets lucky with a girl or other such happy moments. I had dreams of licking the rim of the cup while thinking (Um, did I just say that out loud?). I had dreams of being the caffeine-nicotine writer dude. I saw all these dreams vaporizing in thin air, much like the elusive latent heat…

I almost gave up with frustration pretty soon, when I had a brainwave.

)
If Hot Coffee Does Not Come To Me, I'll Go To The Hot Coffee

I am clever, no? 😀

Resolutions And Wishlists :)

There were quite some sights to behold last night:

1. Mom, who prides on being a teetotaler and frowns when I even think of alcohol,  nursing a mug of chilled beer and ‘Cheers’ing everyone in the room!

2. The great-grandmom of the family dancing to Elvis Presley’s “A Little Less Conversation”!

3. Uncles and aunties enacting skits and acting like kids!

4. Overflowing beer!

5. Four people trying to force open the cork of a wine bottle, without a cork-opener, and managing to  break the cork into tiny pieces that fell into the wine!

6. Turning around in circles with a confused look because I was drunk and I couldn’t find the bottle of scotch!

7. Calling up friends and singing Nickelback songs while standing in the middle of the road!

8. Scrambling for money to fulfill the last-minute orders for booze in the packed wine store!

… and other memorable sweet nothings marked the end of 2008 and brought in the new year with much anticipated revelry, fireworks and a collected sigh of relief. It was something that everyone needed, I guess – a break. It was a fantastic start to the new year when I closed my eyes at 2 in the morning, drunk, expecting a major hangover and with a contented sigh on my lips.

)
Resolutions, Wishlists, Hopes And Fears 🙂

Once upon a time (2 days ago) Apar had asked me for my resolutions and I had deftly deferred (adamantly refused) the issue until the year actually begins. Now that it has, I can avoid it no more. Through my hungover haze, I thought about it and realized that there are quite a few things that I’d want to do this year – resolutions and wishes – and I made a rudimentary list. I began prioritizing them all, and here’s the final result:

    • I want to smile more this year, irrespective of the situation. I want to be able to convince myself that punching myself in the face while asleep is not worth losing a smile.
    • I want to make sure that I think seriously about making a resolution to consider the possibility of a faint chance of quitting smoking.
    • I want to get the two books in the pipeline out this year, come what may.
    • I wish this year has some surprises in store for me, because all 2008 had to offer was one heartbreak after another.
    • In the same vein, I hope to find true love, clichéd as it may sound. I’m tired of one-off dates and two-week affairs and one-month ‘girlfriends’. Sigh!
    • I want to go to France.
    • I want to succeed in organizing an All India Bloggers’ Meet in Gokarna this year – it started out as a South India Bloggers’ Meet, but I decided that Gokarna is too beautiful a place to make anyone jealous!
    • I want to feel like God – I want to buy an Avenger!
    • I wish I can convince myself to start working out again – running for 40 minutes a day isn’t enough. I want to pump iron again!
    • I wish I could sleep for 16 hours a day and laze around in bed for the other 8.
    • I’m going to booze more often and get drunk less often.
    • I wish I could wish for more wishes.
    • I wish I could make others feel better.
    • I wish people can live in peace without having to kill for it.
    • I wish I could make at least one person happy per day.
    • I wish I can grow a year old and look back at myself with pride for having accomplished at least one of the above.

Have a great year everyone! It’s been one hell of a journey, isn’t it? 😀