A gentleman I am acquainted to, today told me about the woman he thought was the girl-one-would-like-to-marry, enunciating on the qualities which pretty much could be used to describe people i never was acquainted with and obviously, i am devoid of. A new self discovery was on my way, whether or not i was looking for it. Within moments my behavior was reduced to one that comprised only of habits, which no "nice/cultured-girl" would ever dream of. Realization strikes late and in my case it struck me hard too, for now i deduce that every step i have taken has been way out of the so-called-line.
I get out of the house after sun's been driven out, i happen to know so many men, i have committed the audacity of going out clubbing some infinite number of times --all this under the consent of the man and the woman who brought me to the surface of this planet (the mum & dad).
I am not always intrigued by such topics and most of the times do not have enough patience to listen to such stories, yet I decided to probe a little further for some goddamn reason, which, I now regret with every passing second.
I consider it an absolute wastage of time, trying to construct a far from imperfect image of a character who in real life has 99% chance of not existing. This still managed to stay on the back of my mind a little longer than usual, sort of kept on coming back to me, reminded me of a vicious argument I had with another friend couple of days ago, all we remember out of the conversation is me fuming with rage without having any regard for the fact,that the subject was this boy's best friend. Yes I was harsh!
And the after effects were a little more than drastic. A newer though but slightly stunted horizon seems to have opened up for me and my latest pastime; now is critical behavioral analyzation of fellow men and women in an Oscar Wilde fashion.
The more I think more I try to believe that it's not real and I am just being feminist and deducing conclusions which are a cause of my hyperactive thought-train. Joblessness has its own effects.
As I went about trying to understand ignored conversations and arguments which I had over the years it just dawned upon me, how these things were right in front of me, happening almost everyday, to me, to my friends, just about everywhere. Suddenly they weren't just stories, they were ignored and forgotten conclusions, bitter truths and insinuations which had always managed to stay hidden yet never fully forgotten.
Coming to what is the real point, what really got me to get my lazy self get back to writing, the man-woman relationship. I may not be a psycho-analyst and I may not know all the men in the world, and obviously there would be exceptions as always (and I hope them to exist) but what I figured out after all these wasted hours was not so happy-a-fact: While a woman looks for person she'd-like-to-spend-her-life-with traits in all the men she ends up being with, a man on the other hand is merely looking for entertainment till the time he gets hitched.
Bitter yet almost true.
A girlfriend should be outgoing, dress skimpily so she's wanted by almost half of the leftover mankind, love all his friends, and in no regard be daft that she doesn't understand his advances, while the same mans fantasy wife would be this pristine and untouched woman, who has probably never seen the world beyond dusk and would probably need dictionary to define the meaning of sex. Though it shouldn't be forgotten that the same man will swap you for the next dimwitted blonde who comes across his way if you refuse to sleep with him, for otherwise he doesn't know where the relationship is heading!
Not only does my self esteem plummet to an almost all-time low, it just makes me feel even crappier a person. Just because I have silly notions about being independent and the fact that my parents were nice enough not to confine me into a four wall family museum everyday, does that make me less respectable a woman?
I fail to understand men and their so called logics, which I wished they applied only to things like PS3, F1 and any game related to balls.
It's difficult for me to come to terms with the fact that how it is cute for the wife-kind women to depend on them to help them figure out how to turn on a switch, while I'd be branded stupid if I didn't know the blue-print of a lamp by the back of my hand.
I am always the evil one who comes up with unreasonable excuses that it's late for me to travel alone at 10, to a place about which I have no clue about, and yet our adorable woman is always oh-so-innocent-and-pitiable for she can't venture out after the nightfall because it is too late???? Could someone explain me how does this work, for I seriously think that chivalry was never convenience?
The man-kind, I wish I could swap them for dogs or some old records at least that would leave me happier and not guilty.
I really don't know who to blame, the mum and dad for being so happy-nice letting be me or myself for growing up to the kind who let her guard down only to be wooed by a man who considered me a practice court.
I get out of the house after sun's been driven out, i happen to know so many men, i have committed the audacity of going out clubbing some infinite number of times --all this under the consent of the man and the woman who brought me to the surface of this planet (the mum & dad).
I am not always intrigued by such topics and most of the times do not have enough patience to listen to such stories, yet I decided to probe a little further for some goddamn reason, which, I now regret with every passing second.
I consider it an absolute wastage of time, trying to construct a far from imperfect image of a character who in real life has 99% chance of not existing. This still managed to stay on the back of my mind a little longer than usual, sort of kept on coming back to me, reminded me of a vicious argument I had with another friend couple of days ago, all we remember out of the conversation is me fuming with rage without having any regard for the fact,that the subject was this boy's best friend. Yes I was harsh!
And the after effects were a little more than drastic. A newer though but slightly stunted horizon seems to have opened up for me and my latest pastime; now is critical behavioral analyzation of fellow men and women in an Oscar Wilde fashion.
The more I think more I try to believe that it's not real and I am just being feminist and deducing conclusions which are a cause of my hyperactive thought-train. Joblessness has its own effects.
As I went about trying to understand ignored conversations and arguments which I had over the years it just dawned upon me, how these things were right in front of me, happening almost everyday, to me, to my friends, just about everywhere. Suddenly they weren't just stories, they were ignored and forgotten conclusions, bitter truths and insinuations which had always managed to stay hidden yet never fully forgotten.
Coming to what is the real point, what really got me to get my lazy self get back to writing, the man-woman relationship. I may not be a psycho-analyst and I may not know all the men in the world, and obviously there would be exceptions as always (and I hope them to exist) but what I figured out after all these wasted hours was not so happy-a-fact: While a woman looks for person she'd-like-to-spend-her-li
Bitter yet almost true.
A girlfriend should be outgoing, dress skimpily so she's wanted by almost half of the leftover mankind, love all his friends, and in no regard be daft that she doesn't understand his advances, while the same mans fantasy wife would be this pristine and untouched woman, who has probably never seen the world beyond dusk and would probably need dictionary to define the meaning of sex. Though it shouldn't be forgotten that the same man will swap you for the next dimwitted blonde who comes across his way if you refuse to sleep with him, for otherwise he doesn't know where the relationship is heading!
Not only does my self esteem plummet to an almost all-time low, it just makes me feel even crappier a person. Just because I have silly notions about being independent and the fact that my parents were nice enough not to confine me into a four wall family museum everyday, does that make me less respectable a woman?
I fail to understand men and their so called logics, which I wished they applied only to things like PS3, F1 and any game related to balls.
It's difficult for me to come to terms with the fact that how it is cute for the wife-kind women to depend on them to help them figure out how to turn on a switch, while I'd be branded stupid if I didn't know the blue-print of a lamp by the back of my hand.
I am always the evil one who comes up with unreasonable excuses that it's late for me to travel alone at 10, to a place about which I have no clue about, and yet our adorable woman is always oh-so-innocent-and-pitiabl
The man-kind, I wish I could swap them for dogs or some old records at least that would leave me happier and not guilty.
I really don't know who to blame, the mum and dad for being so happy-nice letting be me or myself for growing up to the kind who let her guard down only to be wooed by a man who considered me a practice court.
