The Men I Will Never Shag

My head is throbbing. How sad, given there are other, interesting throbabilities. Sigh. Apparently, some research somewhere says that women peak at 30. Well, I am simply peaked. Perhaps that's because I am not 30 yet. But then, having seen just HOW the other when-you-turn-this-that-happens theories have turned out; I'd rather snort at the Peak-at-30 theory and carry on with... S.I.G.H.

At least, I have finally figured I DO want sex. (Praise the lord!) Only, I don't know who I want it from. (Right, like there is a line of panting do-able men queing up under your balcony, says nasty, self-deprecatory voice). Hmm. Actually, it's not a bad idea. Even though I am quite certain, even given 20 Do-Ables, I STILL won't know who-to-do, at least a queue of panting men will be good for my ego. Must do something.

Bloody self-help articles. Since I am a 'lifestyle' writer in my professional avatar (no, am not called 'clit chatting' there); I cannot escape having to read Speculative Research on the state of relationships and orgasms. One of the rules of Fulfilling Sexual Life says: Know what you DON'T want and what you want will come to you etc. What crap. While my I-Won't-Do-Him list is ready, it has not helped my Q for O. That's quest for orgasm. Also the fact that the only reason I step out of my house is work and nothing else, it is not helping matters. And dont even TRY suggestiong Men At Work. They'd probably keep asking, "Aapko kaisa lag raha hai?" ('How do you feel?", the standard line used by most TV journalists in India). And then, irritated and sexually charged and all, I would have to kill him or something. Or worse, blog about it. No orgasm though.

No, no, men don't bore me, not even for a second; it's just that I am abjectly bored of the ones around me. And my tolerance for bad flirting has reached new lows (in negatives). I've had very little patience for Idiots; and compounded with the fact that some idiots 'think' they can flirt... Argh. HOW do they survive? WHO teaches them those sorry moves? Some school for Men Who Cannot See They Are Making An Ass Of Themselves? But then (sigh), if they were that smart, they wouldn't be Men. Hrmph. Oh. Did I just generalise there? So sorry. Not all men are bad at flirting. Some are horrendous. Anyway.

To put things in perspective (and keep them there), here's my list of Men I Won't Shag Even If I Had To Shag Myself To Death (jhinga lala?!) -->

1. Those who don't get jokes (particularly ones I crack) and make me repeat the joke four times and THEN want the punchline explained as well. Dude, I want a man, if I wanted to mate with an amoeba, I would find an amoeba.

2. Those who say they have read my blog and THEN say, "So, Clit Chatting and all, eh?" THEN they look me up and down and all and expect me to melt or get turned on. Really, I don't know whether to laugh at the fact that you either cannot read or are plain dumb. Amoeba 2.

[Painful Interruption ---? Do you know a real pain in the arse is? When you weigh 37 kgs, have no flesh on your butt, your arse is really small and skinny and you have tail-bone-sticking-out problem and like to sit with your legs folded and write. So basically, since your tail is in the way, you don't sit on your arse, you end up sitting on your painfully protruding tail bone. In about 20 minutes of sitting like that, it sends such a shooting pain up your butt, through your bones and to your central nervous system that every nerve ending comes alive. In horrendous pain. It hurts. Sigh. I miss my cellulite. If only I were a sadomasochist, I'd be having multiples every 20 minutes.] Back to the Un-shaggables.

3. Those who say I remind them of their Ex-girlfriend(s)... and then go on to elaborate how they really liked the 'really spirited nature' both the Ex and me seem to have. Right. Amoeba 3, WHY did you let go of the former spirits then? And pray, what makes you think you can handle my spirits? Please don't give me lines like, "I like your strength of character." Truth be told, when push comes to shove, you don't think high-faluda definitions, you do what needs to be done. And since some of us are resilient -- like cockroaches and refuse to die down -- people find definitions and labels to justify their own defeatist attitudes. Also, please know, Amoeba 3, that as a blanket rule, I am NOT like anyone you have met before; because you have never met anyone like me before. Hell, even I haven't (for good or for bad, so be it). And I really don't care what you think of that statement. Sooner/ later, you will agree.

4. Senior (15 years plus) men who think they can 'guide' me by inviting me to posh parties and driving me around in posh cars. 'Guide' me? HA. HA. HA. Of course, I AM a novice in quite a lot of things -- Life, Love, Etc -- but dude, I am concerned. I could kill you with sheer exhaustion. Or even audacity. MOST women can. KNOW that. Like this one time a Senior-Porsche-Driving-Citizen Type invited me for this Exclusive Do. He has/had an EXTREMELY interesting mind though (my biggest weakness). But I like to converse with interesting minds, not indulge in osculatory exercises. Also, neither do I like grubby fingers nor a Porsche that goes at 60 kmph. It's a beast of power, Uncle, use it. So Uncle invites me to posh party and after introducing me to All Important People -- networking is always good for a scribe -- he proceeds to take me to the dance floor and kisses me. Without provocation, intimation or encouragement. He tried the classic, powerful (means tongue threatens to break through barrier of strong teeth), meant-to-make-damsel-swoon, romance novel kiss. Only, me ain't no damsel and definitely not distressed. He was no 'Prince' either (fuck the charming). So, I bit him REALLY hard, drew a little blood and Uncle's soon-to-be-phlegmatic eyes had tears in them. Told him that if he EVER tried to kiss me without me asking him to, I'd do much worse to him. I hope he understood. He is a sweetheart to STILL invite me for random dos. But I hope he got the message. I never issue empty threats. At least not when I have issued said threat in public. Then it's an ego issue; and I got a HUGE ego (who did not notice?) ;)

5. Arseholic colleagues who think they can flirt with me just because I smiled and greet them once in a while... And THEN, in the first conversation declare, "Yes, I am flirting with you, yes I want to see how you kiss." Hahaha. (Dies laughing at memory, reborn, crueller still) And THEN, if my laughing AT them wasn't enough, they get CONFUSED as to WHY I don't respond to their 'flirting' when "most other chicks do." I was SHOCKED and sincerely hoped he had a darned good sense of humour and was joking. He was not. He is what my Dad would say belongs to the genus -- Dad insists this is Russian -- Stupido mostoski ('most stupid' for the linguistically challenged).

6. Dudes who 'poke' me on Facebook and then suggest I join a group called 'Let's stop poking and have sex'. (Exasperated shrug) Dude, sincerely, I don't poke people/ person/ man I (might) have sex with. I kiss, cuddle, get-on-with-it etc. Never 'poke'.

7. Or ones who think that BECAUSE I wear what I wear (and write what I write) I must be a fluff-doll and therefore waiting to be screwed by every other creature (called man) that has a penis. Seriosuly, WHO in his right mind would think of ME as either fluff or doll? (DOLL?!) And if an occassional peek at a waist-chain, midriff, lots of shoulder, collar bone and arms make you think it decreases my productivity etc... You'd probably have a heart attack if you could see me now. I work best with deadline-over-head and limited sources. Like this post you know. It was hand-written. SEVEN pages and there isn't a stitch on me.

PS: If You have done any/ all of the above and I STILL talk to you, call you, instant-message you, write soppy, schizophrenic emails, want to meet you, meet you etc. Then it means I REALLY like you. Does that make this entire post contradictory? Of course it does, I am a WOMAN. ;)