The Pirate more likely 'The Vandalist' and his team in Maxim are trying to to bring about a column that gives bloggers the space. He wants 350 words on Men and Women relationships. It has to be funny. I've scribbled something, read it and let me know. Meanwhile, flood him with your posts and ask him the way to get it published. Only your links will be mentioned. Cheers!
To be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve had a successful relationship. Times are such that I would have to correct myself: a romantic relationship with a woman. It’s actually more than two years; I had a few flings in between but all of them went places and crashed with a lousy moan.
To be 20, and be serious is actually being stupid. When I mean serious: it’s more like earning a comfortable salary in a newspaper house, reading books and talking thirty. Chicks my age seem to have got it all wrong, a two-minute conversation makes you head to grab another drink. Their idea of going to clubs is ‘dancing’, something I relate to as aerobics in a dark room. They can say more Hindi curses before you can say the poetical four-letter under your breath; will pick their teeth with your visiting card; and will actually go to the extent of believing that Ayn Rand is philosophy.
Women older – I am mostly around them – take my trip to give them a satisfying ego ride to the moon and back or mother me to the extent to fix the creases of my shirt. The one’s who I seem to get along are the one’s slurring after two glasses of wine talking about Leonard Cohen in a well-lit room batting their eyelids and shaking their heads mildly in disapproval at their younger sister.
They’re the women that are single, early 30s, have a reassuring smile on their face, blow curls of smoke and are attractive in their kind.
Such conversations are often a gamble: if you win its worth putting on your ego card. It depends: you’ll end either up in bed or the conversation will remain in that whisky blur and that last evening will settle untraced in your memory.
So what are you looking for – love or a decent sex-life? Most times they’re confused, if that’s so then you can have a worse headache than drinking vodka from a water jar. Try using pickup lines with a decent looking chick in a bar – even if they are remotely funny or intelligent – you’ll end up being beaten by 20 village-men from the neighbouring state. You can believe that the chick is related to them, if you like.
Go ahead find your way, make my day.
To be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve had a successful relationship. Times are such that I would have to correct myself: a romantic relationship with a woman. It’s actually more than two years; I had a few flings in between but all of them went places and crashed with a lousy moan.
To be 20, and be serious is actually being stupid. When I mean serious: it’s more like earning a comfortable salary in a newspaper house, reading books and talking thirty. Chicks my age seem to have got it all wrong, a two-minute conversation makes you head to grab another drink. Their idea of going to clubs is ‘dancing’, something I relate to as aerobics in a dark room. They can say more Hindi curses before you can say the poetical four-letter under your breath; will pick their teeth with your visiting card; and will actually go to the extent of believing that Ayn Rand is philosophy.
Women older – I am mostly around them – take my trip to give them a satisfying ego ride to the moon and back or mother me to the extent to fix the creases of my shirt. The one’s who I seem to get along are the one’s slurring after two glasses of wine talking about Leonard Cohen in a well-lit room batting their eyelids and shaking their heads mildly in disapproval at their younger sister.
They’re the women that are single, early 30s, have a reassuring smile on their face, blow curls of smoke and are attractive in their kind.
Such conversations are often a gamble: if you win its worth putting on your ego card. It depends: you’ll end either up in bed or the conversation will remain in that whisky blur and that last evening will settle untraced in your memory.
So what are you looking for – love or a decent sex-life? Most times they’re confused, if that’s so then you can have a worse headache than drinking vodka from a water jar. Try using pickup lines with a decent looking chick in a bar – even if they are remotely funny or intelligent – you’ll end up being beaten by 20 village-men from the neighbouring state. You can believe that the chick is related to them, if you like.
Go ahead find your way, make my day.
posted by jairaj at Wednesday, September 27, 2006
9 Comments:
at 20 you already seem a bit bitter about women. admittedly we're an inscrutable bunch but do we deserve that much opprobrium? it reads well save for the bitter almost staged cynicism. what is noticeable is how much women intimidate you, work on making that more apprent perhaps. coz in its current form i wonder why you're even chasing women in the first place.
hope this is of some help.
cheers!
hey hey hey, i didn't mean to...was attempting to satirise my typical 'Dilli' neighbourhood 'ki' 'Gupta uncle's daughter'! but then you've got a point, a good one! most of you don't deserve it at all, the way you write makes it all so much cooler! of course, despite all this, can't live without them as well. :)
jerrry,
funny stuff
though i dont agree that women actually intimidate you. same for being bitter, you are not.
cheersss
hahahahahaha
oh i didn't mean to be that critical. your article just made me feel under attack. women are a messed up lot to chase after but we're all reactionaries aren't we? women respond to men respond to women respond to........ it doesn't necessarily start with women.
oh well, all the best. :)
Hey its all cool, Hobo. I suppose this is what Battle of Sexes all about! And of course, well; like I said, despite all the whining, one really can't do without the other :), so whose at loss? Chasing's been around since a long time. John Donne was a bit weird in that, but then there was Petrarch somewhere around. Cheers...
Chicks my age seem to have got it all wrong, a two-minute conversation makes you head to grab another drink.-- uh oh. truly. I don't say women my age are some exalted omniscient beings, I won't even venture to refute the point you made, cause I know they're not. But look at the men just as well? Apart from strange exceptions, where are the men these days?
Well, they're all loving every bit of "jhalak dikhlaajaa", that's what. sheesh.
This piece was more meant to be a humourous one. Partially, so I had to give the male-chauvinist's perception that I don't believe. How else could I draw a better argument? There are almost endless points on both sides...
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