Recently I read a post by an avid blogger on "How to get a Girlfriend" which on the whole got the quintessential formula right. Well almost. It isn't rocket science to land a girl. Really! I thought the post had listed almost everything required to make the cut but missed something that would ultimately become the deciding factor. Read on....
A few weeks ago I went to the local cinema to watch the last installment of the Hobbit. It was a drizzly Sunday morning. I was in one of those cranky moods thanks to my mother practically pushing me off the wrong side of the bed. These cranky moods tend to stay quite a while and can get progressively worse depending on how the day goes.
I picked up my friend, V, (lets call him V for this post) and whizzed to PVR Cinemas. For some reason on that particular day I seemed to be bothered by a lot of things that wouldn't have got under my skin on a regular day.
The last few hundred meters of road to the multiplex was full of pot holes, so bad that even with good suspension anyone would have got jerked off their seat. I used my indicator to signal and gradually shifted lanes to the left. There was a man, somewhere in his late forties, who was driving in front of me on a battered old scooter. He drove so slow that I could have overtaken him walking. I honked a couple of times hoping he would make way. He simply refused to move. I honked again, longer this time; he slowly moved over and I overtook him. In a matter of seconds he accelerated ahead of me and this time purposely slowed down. I was forced to go into a pot hole just to get past this chauvinistic motorcyclist. Why are men so offended when a lady over-takes them on the road? Why are their egos so easily dented? What happened to 'Ladies first'? I cursed the man soundly in a string of expletives only to see him smirk at me. My bad mood got worse.
Come to think of it, V would never ride a 'Scooty' unless it was a matter of absolute necessity. He claimed he felt emasculated and that men ought to drive Enfields or FZs. It was the status quo of the Indian society. Nonsense I thought. Scootys are perfectly alright.
V and I have watched the first two parts of the Hobbit together and decided that it was only right that we watched part III too. Now, although V is more than a little chauvinistic he did make it a point to take on the responsibility of buying the tickets and the food and make sure we got good seats. By the end of the movie I was in a LOT of pain - Pain because I just saw the gorgeous Richard Armitage, sorry, I mean Thorin Oakenshield die such a noble death and pain because my neck was stiff thanks to the uncomfortable recliner seats at PVR. I was slightly dazed and disoriented as I joined the rest of the people slowly filing into the aisle leading to the exit. V was trying his best to keep me from tripping. I noticed the boy in front of me. He was one of those Honey Singh Wannabes in a yellow Billabong sweatshirt, low waisted faded jeans showing off his Calvin Klein underwear and red dunks. He walked with a lot of 'killer swag' talking about Orlando Bloom in a clearly fake American accent to the girl he brought along. I chuckled to myself only to be hit seconds later on the face by the exit door. I stepped out and said quite very loudly to the boy " DUDE, Haven't you been taught to hold the door for someone behind you?" He smiled sheepishly and scurried off pretending to be in a great hurry. The clearly embarrassed girl with him followed suit. He didn't apologize mind you.
Post the cinema debacle, V and I went to a nice Chinese restaurant to grab some lunch. At the adjacent table was another youngster who plonked himself loudly even before the lady that accompanied him had sat down. Next I heard him slurp soup so loud that it made me cringe and clearly bothered V. To top it all off when the waiter brought the bill, our very uncouth friend began to dissect the bill and loudly ask them for a discount as he felt he shouldn't have to pay so much for a meal for two. V whispered how sorry he felt for the girl with him and how terrible she must have felt. You cant bring your date to a fancy restaurant expecting the food to come cheap!
Here is when I ask and I might sound a tad bit old fashioned : Where have all the Darcys and Rhett Butlers gone? Where are all the men that Jane Austen so vividly described? Are 'knights in shining armor' just myths after all? With such little ethics and ignorance men complain they can't land a girl. Oh come on!!
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