Surviving Men , livre ebook
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115
pages
English
Ebook
2015
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Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne En savoir plus
Publié par
Date de parution
15 août 2015
Nombre de lectures
0
EAN13
9788184754261
Langue
English
Publié par
Date de parution
15 août 2015
Nombre de lectures
0
EAN13
9788184754261
Langue
English
SHOBHAA D
SURVIVING MEN
The Smart Woman s Guide to Staying on Top
PENGUIN BOOKS
PENGUIN BOOKS
Contents
Introduction
The Question of Man
What Does One Do with Men?
Are Men Insecure?
How Men Deal with . . .
Do Men Have Feelings?
What Do Men Like about Women?
How to Hook a Man
How to Dump a Man
Are Men Moral?
Is It Possible to Actually Love a Man?
Men in Love
Menopausal Men
The Portable Man
Men in Bed
Men at Work
Men at Home
Men on Holiday
The Inner Man
Unexplained Mysteries about Men
Men and Their Mothers
Men s Fantasies
Myths about Men
Men as Martyrs
Men as Buddies
Men as Mice
Men as Leaders
Surviving Men
Men and Timing
How to Train Men
Men and Their Uses
Things Our Mamas Didn t Have to Do for Men
Epilogue
Follow Penguin
Copyright
PENGUIN BOOKS
SURVIVING MEN
Shobhaa D , voted by Reader s Digest as one of India s Most Trusted People and one of the 50 Most Powerful Women in India by Daily News and Analysis , is one of India s highest-selling authors and a popular social commentator. Her works comprising both fiction and non-fiction, have been featured in comparative literature courses at universities abroad and in India. Her writing has been translated into many Indian languages as well as French, German, Hungarian, Italian, Korean, Portuguese, Russian, Spanish and Turkish. She lives in Mumbai with her husband and six children.
Also by the same author
Fiction
Socialite Evenings
Starry Nights
Sultry Days
Sisters
Strange Obsession
Snapshots
Second Thoughts
Non-fiction
Speedpost
Selective Memory
Spouse
Superstar India
Just Kidding . . . Love Ya Anyway
To Dilip . . . For Surviving Me
Introduction
A normal, healthy woman has to live with menstrual cramps for upto thirty years of her life. If not longer. That s four days each month for three hundred and sixty months. That is some thirty-four thousand, five hundred and sixty hours of discomfort and dull pain. Compare that to her life with a man. Same time-frame. Similar pain. Which would she rather give up if she had the choice-men or menstrual cramps? I guess you know the answer.
Women are strange creatures. They feel possessive about their PMS. They also feel possessive about their men, but unlike cramps, which eventually go away . . . men don t. Not as easily or as predictably, at any rate. Women have no choice but to come to terms with monthly discomfort. They get used to it eventually. They can even train themselves to block out the icky feeling entirely. Men are harder to dismiss.
They are like a persistent rash that will not disappear despite the best efforts. Sometimes the condition flares up without warning and a woman seriously considers seeking professional help. That s when she flips out totally and begins to fantasize about a beautiful world free of pestilence and war. Disease and strife. Dirty socks and hairy chests. Wet bathrooms and beer breaths. Lousy sex and joint accounts. And, chiefly, this man. Maddening.
Even the most inflamed case of hives can be treated-or tolerated-provided you know how. (A smart woman doesn t scratch. She doesn t bleed. And she doesn t cry. She stays on top. Of the rash, of everything else. And then she gets on with the rest of her life keeping her hands free for attending to something more useful than an itch that refuses to leave her.)
But what do you do with a man?
Only two women and one man have read the rough proofs of this book. Said Renuka, the film-maker, I wish men would come into our lives all potty-trained and house-broken. Why don t you add a chapter on getting them there? Prita, my editor, looked up from the pages she had so meticulously marked and commented tersely, Dumping. You ve left out dumping. So I had. The nameless man responded with his customary cool. Yeah, he said, yeah. You have a point. Well, thanks. I was kinda hoping I did. Several, in fact.
Those were the professional opinions.
Floodgates opened up when I casually mentioned the subject of the book to others. Strange women would sidle upto me and hiss, Show them. Finish them off. Fix them, the smug sons of bitches. And I d go, Huh?
This book isn t about showing them or fixing them. Heck no. Men are okay. It s just that women are more okay. Men don t know that, of course. Which is also okay. We don t want them to-see? That would ruin everything. Women are subversive, sly beings who thrive on stealth and secrecy. They have a complex, varied rich inner life most men do not so much as suspect exists.
That is our strength. And revenge. So long as we can cling on to our fantasies (the favourite one involves murdering the spouse), life chugs along in a well-greased groove. It is when we surrender our dreams and get real that problems surface. Big problems. We start analysing our mates. Our situation . Our futures. None of this adds up to a pretty picture. Anger and frustration happen. Fights happen. Issues happen. Divorce happens. Mucho mess happens. Women get stuck with the short end of the stick. And women don t like that. They pick up their end of the stick and try and beat the guys with it. Now, guys don t like it. Nobody likes being beaten. It ends up with everybody hating everybody else. Life becomes a bummer. Finally, men and women declare in unison, Marriage sucks. The rash disappears. A new one appears-this one is called terminal loneliness. Nobody wants to be lonely. Nobody likes being lonely. Everybody decides to be sensible . Sane. Slimey. Is it a cop-out? You bet it is. So, what are the options?
Mine is a Post-It marriage, a young woman in her late twenties tells me. My husband and I work our butts off. We hardly get to see each other. I often have to work through the night. He leaves those cute little yellow notes on the fridge for me-I do the same for him. That s how it works.
Sure. For how long? I want to tell her, yellow notes, no matter how cute, are a poor substitute for a warm bed and an even warmer meal. But this is a modern, urban Indian marriage involving modern, urban Indians. They do their bonding over washing machines and personal computers. Hired, part-time help runs the house. Relationships are sealed or broken via e-mail and faxes. There is no downside-unless you count divorce.
Who packs the dabbas? Do it yourself, growls the exhausted wife. Why can t you pack mine for me? the husband whines. Because I don t ask you to pack mine, the wife snaps. The man appeals meekly to the bai. She rolls out two chappatis, warms up left-over veggies and he s off. But at least his wife is rash-free for the day. And her bai -packed dabba is ready to go, too.
I bring in as much money as he does. I work equally long hours. I hate it when he offers to help me fix dinner. What does he mean by help ? It s such a presumptuous word. It indicates he has assumed making dinner is solely my responsibility . . . and he is being kind enough to share some of it with me. Bullshit. We both have to feed ourselves. As far as I m concerned he does his bit and I do mine. It s a joint effort. No favours.
No favours? This woman needs help. She needs this book.
Since Surviving Men reveals well-guarded male (and female) secrets, I d say keep your mind open as you read on . . .
We love making a super production out of fairly simple things like, like-like a man who routinely beats us up. We like to talk about it, for heavens sake. Not merely dismiss the whole business with a grunt and a Men!
If you can understand a woman s genetically programmed need to talk, and talk some more, in fact, never to stop talking-even if it means going without sleep, food and sex (in that order)-you ll figure out the raison d tre of this book.
Men don t talk as much. Perhaps it s because they re too mean-even with words.
Are all men stingy? Ummm-I d say generally so. That s because men secretly and not o secretly believe that all women are out to take them for a ride-even those who earn far more than they do. Chat up a guy in a bar (yes, honey, it s perfectly all right these days. Everybody is chatting up guys at bars-even other guys) and sooner or later he ll load you with his money problems. If he is married, he will wiggle his eyebrows as men do when discussing their wives (it is a gesture intended to convey that she s pretty but foolish. Or not so pretty but bossy) and say something like, I don t know about you but my wife can t resist a bargain-any bargain. Last week she bought forty kilos of detergent because it worked out cheaper in the long run. But what about the money I had to shell out up front for it?
Yes, we know money is power. The person who controls the purse-strings plays grand puppeteer. If the wife is wealthier, she s the one who makes the husband beg for pocket-money. A painter friend chortles with glee as she recounts a neat reversal of roles in her marriage. For years it was my husband who made me crawl for a few thousand bucks. He d ask for detailed accounts and make me justify each piddly purchase. Well, now that I m a successful artist and he my manager, the ball game has changed. I can tell you I make him work really hard for his supper.
Men and their money are rarely parted. Watch them stuff wads of notes into their wallets. Watch the manic look in their eyes as they regard those crisp bank notes, saliva dribbling down their chins. You want to tap them on the back and say, Hey. Relax. It s only paper. Not that they ll get it. Money acts like an aphrodisiac on men. That may explain why men are horniest at the beginning of the month when their pockets are full. The libido starts sliding seriously as expenses mount and the bank balance shrinks. Women understand that. They like money as much-especially their mate s.
Very few men encourage this trait. Those who do, end up broke. Not that women are incapable of handling funds-they do a great job in that area provided there are no questions asked. Unfortunately, men don t trust them sufficie
