Mistress Of Vices: Do It Like A Man, Woman!
We weren’t quite happy with Peeping Mary’s floundering assets, so Cupid took her to the back and shot her with a glass-tipped arrow.
Do It Like A Man, Woman!
Fresh off the high of a good snog the night before, I sat under a tree called Writer’s Block with the MacBook humming on standby, waiting for a Newton like realisation to smack me straight. You can’t blame one for losing blood circulation to the essential organs needed for typing coherently when all you can think about is that perfectly achieved reverse cowgirl (pats self on back). Oh yes, women daydream of sex too. The difference is that we only think about good sex. The bad kind is worth not getting any at all. Infact it’s not even worth waxing your legs and putting on lacy thongs for (sorry to burst your bubble, but one just doesn’t prance around in them daily). Though I can sheepishly admit to having had that ‘I am so bored and there’s nothing else to do’ half-hearted sack session with a hairy back travesty, which I didn’t even bother taking my top off for. Not my proudest moment, but then that’s what seven and three quarter vodka’s do to you sometimes.
Ok, I distract easy. The purpose of this piece as deemed fit by our doe-eyed Ed is to show fellow femme fatales what to borrow from the book of our furry friends (uh, I meant men). Now that’s a loaded mission. And why would I – a self proclaimed, card holding member of the femi-nazis want to learn anything from the enemy camp? The answer’s simple. If you can’t beat them, join ‘em.
Several years ago, when it was acceptable to maintain a blog and it hadn’t yet become the whore of media interns (as acutely noted a page flip ago by our man on the masthead), one had written a piece on the dismal and fake sexual liberation of the modern Indian woman. A lot of what you will read here, including the name of this column comes from observations that germinated there. Alas, while our hemlines and hairstyles have evolved since then, our sensibilities clearly haven’t. How else would one explain the cult of pseudo-ness that governs my lot – I will wear a backless dress, give you come hither looks, revel in the attention, send you 1 am sms’s, hint at a legendary prowess and then turn coy when you expect any sort of action. Worse still, I will either use sex as a weapon or as a gate pass to invade your personal space and elect myself the mayor of that domain.
Please note that I count myself in this category because at some point or another, every one of us has committed this fraud. Which is why, this should be lesson numero uno – Don’t overthink it, sometimes sex is just sex.
Before you start huffing, let me clarify that I do not admire sleazy slimebags
who promise the world just to get in your pants. But I do respect the fact that
unlike women, men are comfortable with answering their carnal calling in
life. Though I also know that double standards label women who embrace this philosophy too literally into pariahs, but that’s for another rant. All in all, if you are two consenting adults, then a well-synched endorphin release should be free of guilt. What comes next is up to you but buyer’s remorse is unacceptable.
While marauding wrongs done, the wisdom of the proverbial apple finally
hit me – Never bite off more than you can chew. We’ll call that the second
lesson. Ladies, take a deep breath and take a step back. Look at your man or
the closest acceptable male – see his easygoing demeanour? That’s cos’ he
doesn’t spend his days worrying about the universe and its infinite problems.
Instead he paints a happier picture usually involving a contact sport, a cold
brew, some sort of deep fried/cheesy junk and the company of his buds. I
think I envy that most and aspire to live like that in the near future. Try it, if
only for a few hours. Forget the laundry, the beautician, the kitchen and the
mall and stop harassing him about it too. Just wedge out… It might also delay
the advance of those worry lines.
The next nugget comes courtesy a midnight drive. When the all-knowing friend promptly responded, “Optimism is not a dirty word. Please tell women that.” Ah yes, hope springs eternal in their scheme of things and rejection is a worthy adversary. This false sense of bravado is accompanied by room-scanning skills that put airport security thermal body scanners to shame. Men of all kinds, shapes and IQ’s possess the brilliant ability to not only quickly pick up their bruised egos and seek the next target but also an acute sixth sense that alerts them of the presence of female anatomy better than those they are currently ogling. Unlike us who fix the afterglow of our attention (if and when we choose) on one candidate, our comrades understand survival of the fittest. Learn from them and keep your options open. It’s not for nothing that we are better at multi-tasking.
Lastly, give the poor sods a chance. Switch off the voice in your head and stop worrying about consequences. It’s no fun learning from someone else’s mistakes, so make your own (notice how men do it all the time).
And come February 14th, be charitable. Forego the frivolity and gift him and yourself an orgasm. Works like a charm, everytime. Just remember to think like a woman and do it like a man.
From the February 2011 issue of FHM India.
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