<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d7561468\x26blogName\x3daut+me+aut+nihil\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://pichuva.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://pichuva.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d2999680192081473155', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
aut me aut nihil

aut me aut nihil = Either me or nothing. no,no... me not boosting. me have an inferiority complex and trying to compensate :D 

Thursday, May 31, 2007 - 17:40

Clean Slate

Last weekend something amazing happened. No, not that you perverts. I did not get laid.. I'm still playing solitaire.. on my laptop(wonderful euphemism no?). I'm talking about this blog's page-hits on a day. It went down all the way to zero. Not even Google sent some searches on kamasutra this way. Guess its as close to a clean slate as a blog can get. So born again!

I care about you readers out there. I really do! So I'm going to give you made up reasons for the absence: I either had a writer's block or in bad need of a muse. Beaches, clubs and some lap-dances later.. found out it wasn't the muse. It was the regular good old block. The only way to get over this is to write about a favorite topic... what other choice do thou have than to rant about Women!

I know the argument is very Sigmund Freud, but if only boys mature faster than girls, we might have better chance and this ridicule will actually sound fair. It is an already established fact that why we don’t get any.. is not our fault. Combine this with the serious lack of requirements specification from the client side we men are on an uphill struggle to impress women from birth. Let me take you....

My mom always used to say "work hard, study well, get good rank and success will follow automatically". Didn't success also meant girls. So all I had to do was get first rank and the ladies will stalk me. In high school I could do a mean derivation of E=mc² in under 3 minutes, list the properties of benzene under chloroform, draw the female reproductive system with eyes shut.. but alas no girl followed me back home for "show & tell". Maybe because I went to an all-boys school run by celibate Christian missionary brothers. Only now I understand that the advice and choice of school was my mom's way of keeping me single until she can run a matrimonial ad. Women load the dice every step of the way.

"Chicks dig guys who is into art", said one of my friend not too after it dawned that my parents advice is ill-suited and I turned to him for advice. I took him seriously enough to improved my drawing & sketching skills. Only that, by "art" he meant something else. One weekend on Pubertyville a group of friends rented the special "art" video and watched it on mute... you would have mistaken the room for a wax exhibit. After that gentle baptism that every man goes through no guy can ever look at a woman without thinking about sex. On the other hand, the girls have their own sex education teacher(their moms), monthly reminders and paranoid-stricken over-protective brothers and dads who knows what goes on in boys minds. Thats cheating and totally unfair.

Its a no-brainer that most women like poetry. So I began a regime of reading books, a lot of books so I can think and rhyme like a poet. I blame the Y-chromosome because I can quote Hannibal Lecter better than Jane Austen. Albeit, I gained this holy wisdom. No man could ever grasp poetry and men only used it as a ploy to get into womens pant. Let me tell you women a secret.. a typical man does not count his worth on the number of tears shed or the number of people attended his funeral, but on how many women thought "he was so good in bed" in his funeral. You can hear Keats, Byron and Shakespeare turning in their grave right now. Thank you guys for trying to tell us that the playing field ain't level.

What women want and what kind of conversation interests them I asked my male friends. In Tamilnadu, where is come from, this art is called the art of "kadalai", definition is not unlike the Seinfeld episode on "Nothing"... the ability to talk or be with a woman for looong period of time without actually talking about anything in general or anything in particular or anything at all. I got nothing. A friend puts it this way, "a mildly sexual yet only flirting, intelligent topic, but still personal, yet non-invasive". I still can't think of anything. I know.. celibacy as a life-style is an option I'm considering. Don't be smart ass and say all men got to do is listen. We need a standard issue women-talk-decoder-ring to understand a comma or a pause.

Now I understand though my friends albeit were trying to help were just as naive as I was and were only good at pretending that they knew it all.

After reaching for advice and questioning self about the answers to life I turned to the next best thing. Femina and Cosmopolitan. Maybe womens magazine have an idea of what women want. Page after page I see/read they like 6 pack abs and muscles like Hrithik. So off to the gym I go. Did I tell you I belong to the species called software engineers. We are the newest hit species in the evolution of man. We are well-designed to stare at screens, use our brain, sit on our ass and move only our fingers. Homositonass Fingerus is our biological name. We can try but a 6-pack ab is as futile as trying to escape Darwinism. Women just skip a few meals and they are in shape.

Yours truly like most guys my age with tamil parents from the 1980's is a product of love marriage. And I'm also a first-born. Damn those love-theme movies of 80's: from Alaigal Oyevadhillai till date the movies kept raising the bar higher & higher. Sergei Bubka would have given up. Most will consider it a disgrace to the family blood and tamil community, so rich in love, to even think of arranged marriage. Imagine the pressure on us from the moment of conception till we go through puberty with like-minded-immature-friends and knowing the playing field is not level and we don't stand a chance and accepting the stereotype of "boringly good boy in glasses, educated nerd from the land of opportunity" and walking up to you trying to start a conversation... no wonder we choke.

Labels:



8 owls

© Copyright 2006 - S m i t h a