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| And I couldn't hold it no more.... |
| Thursday, November 6, 2008 |
One of the most grueling aspects of being into a relationship with a girl is escorting her through her shopping. Well, there are scores of other acid tests and hurdles that one needs to negotiate before he qualifies to be her majestic “Mr.Perfect”.
Pundits and scholars have iterated time and again; there is nothing “perfect”. We, human, take the best path out of the dark woods.
I, for instance catered to my girl’s demands of pretentiousness while she compensated my imperfectness with some generous spending.
She recently got a puppy (Male puppy) and she bought her pink clothing for winters, Poor guy couldn’t communicate its pain, but its eyes were as vocal as possible. Girls seldom understand subtle ways, you have to say it.
Say it time and again. “Good night”, ye, “I love you” – how does it matter to her if you are in middle of cafeteria eating out with group of suspicious men.
If you don’t, you are not committed, and shying of expressing it, effectively meaning – you are faking and have covert, maligned motives.
Once, I said out of in frustration
“Oh, Miss double standards, there are other way of expressing love as well, Allow me sometimes.”
“You…!!” taking the “u” to the end of the sentence and marking the end of the conversation.
Shopping malls have proved bane for men. For they eat (oh really?), watch any pathetic movie with extremely overpriced Popcorn and diluted coke and then go shopping.
It was just that fine day.
Last night, she had talked about her colleagues and a supposedly “funny” guy. I smelled a conspiracy behind this to measure my jealousy concentration.
In an infant relationship, more you measure in your jealousy concentration, closer you go towards that critical PH scale. This scale can be defined as “just enough concentration of jealousy to make her believe you feel and still not enough to transgress her line of private space.”
Like a true flag holder of male specie, I foiled her plan by “pretending” to hear patiently which of course was busted when she re-verified my attentiveness next day by asking the name of the guy.
I parked my vehicle and first stop was this eatery joint. She ordered quite a few and ate, well, nothing if I may follow calculus limits. And, I am sure if she becomes Miss World someday, she would vow to end starvation from Africa.
I had a serious thought of getting it packed and giving it to my roomie and en-debting him for some evening snacks. Though, decided against as I didn’t have faintest idea for how long would I have to carry that around.
I was relieved to be aware that tickets for the SRK’s top Box office grosser for week were unavailable. Like most pleasurable things in life, my relief was futile, she settled for Rush hour and I thought which movie could have been more torturous.
As we came out, ladieswear section was right in front.
“So, what are you looking for?” I asked.
“Mmm,, come na!”
I said “First , I am a s/w engineer, can’t work on vague requirements, need physical, tangible, quantifiable clear technical specifications.
Second, please note that “Mmms”, “naa’s”, “youuu’s”, “ok’s” are not acceptable form of replies.”
My statement was lost in her expectant bliss of prospective shopping.
“You look around while I will go and catch smoke. I always smoke after achieving milestones in my day to day mundane life.”
My sound energy was left unattended and was overpowered by her kinetic energy that was haphazardly pulling her towards all corners of the shop.
She clutched her tired teller machine to show some out of basket of clothes.
The basket would be easily out of capacity if I put in my one suit but to my amazement, it beheld seemingly millions of tops piled and intertwined.
What is this? Just tops”
“Leave, not good. Look , look bags!!” As if a deprived child has seen his favorite ice cream.
Spending quality time with the rack, she gave me clear hints of what she really liked –some pathsala bag and then threw it back.
“Let’s see the top.”
She looked lost like Sindbad on island of gold but she did exude an insinuating aura towards other women as if shouting: I am with my boy friend,you stupid fishes!
Hours passed me trailing her all around the women’s zone.
After stationing me awkwardly against women’s trial room, she appeared like a nightingale every 5 minutes to pose as some covergirl asking my opinion about the top..
While she was in there, I glanced at the prices.
Well, it hardly used a quarter of a meter fabric. Why on earth so much?
I silently slid my hand in pocket to ensure if my handkerchief should be costlier.
Again, the pink top. I was asked to opinionate.
Well, its not shirt /jean/shoe… But gauging her smile spanning her face
“Awesome” I responded.
My body was aching to run away and catch a refreshing beer.
“So done!”. Let’s get going.
I wonder if it was all part of a murky plan to spend more time to piss me off, so that I exhibit minimum resistance paying off the bill.
At the cash counter she lined up to strategically to see bag rack. Reaching the counter salesperson she turned around to tell me.
“Look that bag would go well with this! Isn’t it?”
But leave, its freaking overpriced”
Being a thorough gentleman, I said “No! Buy.”
The plan, however sacrilegious it was, seemed to be working for her.
Bill stated some 1700 bucks.
She took ages to find her purse inside a bigger purse inside the biggest purse. As if she wanted to pay.
“Okie, here you go, I took out my Credit card passing it to the salesperson.
American chivalry, foolish me.
“Mam, 300 more and you get this special card which can fetch you additional discounts on top of regulars next time”.
“Hon, you get your sister this liner and mascara, her birthday is next week, isn’t it?”
“Fine, pack up. I don’t have any card holder place left, you keep it.”
“Sweetu, You really don’t need to do this, ya”
“How well I know, Sweetie! “ I said
“you naa”. She said.
By the power bestowed by god to my teeth and hand, that night , I cut my last Credit card in three pieces without scissors
A week later , I was single and sipping beer with my group of singletons.
Love
-DLabels: Funny Sides of Events, Holy war b/w Man and Woman |
posted by Dheeraj @ 8:31 PM   |
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| 5 Comments: |
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I am so glad I am not your roomie. How can you talk of feeding your girlfriend's left over to your roomie? Believe me, I have nothing against your girlfriend.
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:-) he he. I have a lot against her...
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Hail to the Holy war...
Nice read about "physical" and "chemical" relation...ooops reaction..
Credit card is the only thing which can save you and the same time screw your life..
waise mujhe pata nahi tha ki tera koi "relation" bhi tha.. I thought you still believe in "Ladka-Raj".
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awww....this was scary...an I'm ung , u knw!!
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I am so glad I am not your roomie. How can you talk of feeding your girlfriend's left over to your roomie? Believe me, I have nothing against your girlfriend.