What Women Want....

on Wednesday, December 26, 2007

The characters and situations in this story are vastly exaggerated to introduce juvenile humor where there isn’t any. Both the people involved in this story are great people and I sincerely hope they pull off a miracle. Oh and btw the characters in this story are not real and any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

It might be possible that in some remote corner of the world, say sub Saharan Africa, there might exist an undiscovered species of woman who behave logically and in a way comprehensive to the poor harried members of the opposite sex. Somehow I really doubt it. Don’t get me wrong, I love all women. The ones that look like Pamela Anderson anyway.
Well, to subtly illustrate this point (Not about Pamela Anderson but about women in general) let me narrate a story. The chief characters in the story are: One IIT Type guy, working in a big factory with a large disposable income. And one B school type girl, cute, smart, and with the right smattering of girlish eccentricity which drove IIT type guy mad. (Not with desire I think, though maybe that too).
Some back ground is required. Both of them live in the same city, a measly 20 kilometers apart .A drive in rush hour traffic would take about 2 hours from his house to hers. Through back breaking, bone crushing, soul wrenching traffic which would make Sun TV Midnight masala a very inviting alternative. But our guy was made of sterner stuff, he persevered. He would come back from work, dutifully wear his best deodorant, travel 20 kms to her place, smile and pretend that the drive was pleasantly spent in anticipation of their forthcoming meeting, pick her up, drive back 20 kms to the city to take her to an expensive restaurant (No highway type dhabas for her), eat dinner, drive back another 20 kms to drop her back and then drive back home another 20 kms.
As you can see he spent a good part of his life driving. He could have quite profitably run a cab service (I doubt whether even Blue line buses have a frequency of 2 to and fro trips in 3 hours).All that is ok. He did it because he liked the girl. What is a mere 8 hrs/day on the road compared to the love of a beautiful girl? Right?
One night he drove back home after an unusually agonizing ride back home in traffic. He thought the dinner had gone well; the food was good, although she had been slightly silent and had looked expectantly at him as if she wanted him to deduce something. Not being related to Sherlock Holmes, our guy ignored her and drank and made merry with indecent exuberance. She apologized prettily for having kicked him accidentally in the shin during dinner (3 times no less).He was feeling unusually noble for being chivalrous enough to treat his girl like the princess that she was.
He had just parked his car, when his phone rang. It was her. ”Probably to thank me for doing so much for her”he thought with pride.
This conversation can be described in the following sequence:
Guy: So…good time naa?
Girl: Hmm…
Guy :( in a self congratulatory tone) so… you look like you have something to say
Girl: Well...today…somehow…I dint feel close to you…
Guy: But we were sitting so close that I could feel the wart on your hip…
Girl: that is the problem, you never understand me.
Guy: Err…What... (Doing his imitation of a confused ape-man)
Girl: The whole problem is that you are not driving the relationship.

Well, put yourself for one moment in the shoes of the poor guy. He practically spends his life driving for her. And to get such thoughtless comments about not “driving” the relationship hurt him to the quick. As you may have imagined, the conversation rapidly went downhill from there.
To cut a long story short, they decided to meet up later to resolve the issue. On his birthday in fact.
They had just been seated in an expensive restaurant (where they charge you for merely looking at the waiter).
The waiter in a loud whisper asked the girl whether he should get the cake now or later. Our guy was the bashful type. No loud or raucous birthday celebrations for him. He insisted that it was ok that the surprise had been ruined and could they please cut the cake in his car, without having the ignominy of demented waiters grinning at him. She agreed.
He asked for the bill. With a start he realized that the bill was slightly inflated. He quickly scanned the items in the bill and realized that the cake was billed to him. Well, he was not the kanjoos type .But he considered it only fair that a cake which was bought for him on his birthday should not be billed to him, by principle. Fair right? Especially when he could have fed a slum for 13 days with the amount the cake cost.
He politely smiled, trying to catch her attention. “Did you realize that the inflation rate for chocolate cakes with icing in south Asia is 17% this financial year?”
She looked at him like he had lost it. He gave up.
Later when he was back home, he realized that she had packed the rest of the cake and taken it home for herself. He was chivalrous. He dint begrudge her the cake.
He went and switched off his cell phone before lying down in bed with a cold compress before she could call up and say something like ”The icing on the cake was when I did not feel close to you today.
He couldn’t stand the mention of cakes right then.