I have this incredible tectonic, platonic love for women, as readers of this blog must have sensed by now. However, there are certain things about certain women that put me off.
1. Women with dirty navels: The ultimate revulsion. This hatred must be something I got from the time I was attached to an umbilical cord! As a laparoscopic surgeon, I am, um, bilious about the unclean umbilicus, one that strikes a chord in me.
2. Women with garlic or onion in their breath: this is a real no-brainer. Who likes ‘em? If a girl smells leek this, I spring away: my light bulb movement. As far as these women are concerned, I know my onions.
3. Women with male genitals: I somehow can’t seem to
gonad gomad about their confusing plumbing system.
4. Bad English: call me snobbish, but I like women who speak good English, and have long been a lingo-raj for the Queen, her English, I mean! I have no problems with women who don’t speak English at all.
5. Women who can get hysterical: Hysteria is, etymologically, a disease which springs from the woman’s uterus (hysteros). I believe it. A hysterical woman is bad all the way inside. Avoid, dude!
6. Obsessively clean women: Married to one myself, I can speak on this with messive authority. They have a reason to find fault with you for every little thing you do:
“Why have you kept the chocolate wrappers and the orange peels on the bed? There are ants all over the place!” Well, idiotic, won’t you say? As if I invited all the ants over for dessert or something!
“Why are you eating here? Look how much of sauce you have spilt here. Oh, my Gawd, you have kept the banana peel and the apple core on the table, like this? How horribly dirty you are! Get up, get up right now, that glass of water is just going to fall!”
You get the idea. She could drive me up the wall. Only that I can’t climb it because a bowl of soup landed on it last night as I was showing my son how to hit an extra-cover drive, forgetting that the bat was a bowl of soup, and a large one at that. She asked me, as the tallest member of the family, to clean it, but I told her, “Are you kiddin’ me? With Yuvraj batting like this?! Tomorrow is a Sunday, and tell me then.” This morning, she has been after my ass to complete the job, but it’s amazing how inconsiderate and lacking in understanding some women can be, isn’t it? Sourav Ganguly is batting now, I have three newspapers to read (with their supplements), I have so many blogs to visit, so many comments to defend, so many mails to read. Sigh. It will take me till lunchtime to get free. After which I will do it. Only if there is no movie I am forced to watch….
7. Organised women: Yes, once again, as one married to an organised woman, I can tell you they are serious risk factors for one’s healthy heart rate and rhythm. You keep a very hot phone number, flavored with a wee hint of lipstick, which you have jotted down on the reverse of a bill for the petrol you bought last week, and when you want to find it next week, it is not there. Why? The obsessive organiser has thrown it into the trash! How much injustice does a man have to suffer, tell me?! One can’t live life if one’s important phone numbers are trashed as if they have no importance in one’s own house. I have decided not to take this lying down. From now on, I am going to start writing the numbers on the wall with my son’s crayons. Let’s see what she does about that!
Are you actually thinking of asking me to get an organiser or diary? Huh. Silly things don’t work, and diaries are for sissies, anyways. No man with baseline levels of testosterone will ever stop writing on chits of paper, leaving them in the organised free market of his study table.
8. Jewelry-obsessed women: I am fine with a woman wearing a single pendant on a silk or leather thread. But never trust a woman who buys gold and diamonds on the specious plea that they are investments for the future. Never. If ever you get to the future and wish to redeem your investment, said woman and attached mother will rain on you like popcorn from a fat man choking on a mouthful when sitting behind you at a movie. Sell off jewelry?! Dhishhum, dhishhum! Bang! Crrash!!
9. Young women with BO: I have, over the years, learned to distinguish the various types of body odor in women and men. I will, perhaps, classify them one day for posterity. Readers may recall my earlier olfactory ordeals.
The typical BO is one of honest sweat, accentuated by local global warming. It is redolent of acidic, even rancid flavors (like French Blue Cheese), and goes well with crackers and wine, or even as a dressing. I meant the cheese, not the girl. Talking of which, these girls seem to be fond of fish, and avoid vegetables, too, for balance. Any woman who leaves an elevator before I enter it has it, somehow. Medical representatives, girls working in malls, girls assisting dentists, etc. are some of the brand ambassadors of BO.
10. The Delhi Police type of woman:
Imagine me sitting in the bedroom with my Mac, and WonderWoman comes in and asks me to shift because it needs dusting and cleaning. Once I shift to the den and start watching the cricket match, she comes in and says that the curtains and sheets are going to be changed, and I need to shift somewhere else. How inconsiderate can a woman be! A man can’t rest in peace without being treated like a hawker on the streets of Kolkata driven from road to road by a corrupt cop?!
11. The dirty, unorganised woman: A woman with chipped nails or one that throws things around carelessly, is just not my type. An irritating thing about her is her cell phone. She gets a call, and it rings inside her large handbag. One can then see, while the strains of a Hindi song call-her tune fill the room increasingly threateningly, the entire contents of the handbag: comb, papers, a coin purse, lipstick, compact case, migraine pills, spare sanitary pad, keys with extra-large keychain of Popeye (or Garfield or Mickey or Jerry), before the cellphone is dug out by its bejewelled chain. Why can’t these ladies keep the phone where they can always find them before driving others crazy with their bad taste in music? Where would they keep it, you ask? Why, they could hang it around the neck, so that the phone rests in the inter-mammary fold, always accessible….
12. A submissive woman: A woman of character should make up her own mind. She doesn’t act as a Yes-girl for her husband or her father. Supposed to be an endangered species in urban India. I have, somehow, never met this species of womanhood. All the women who have loved me have been on top of their relationship, nice, submissive guy that I am!
If I have missed out, tell me about it, guys! Ladies, what are your reactions?