Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Love me do

The husband recently pointed out that according to Linda Goodman, I was the bad guy and he was the good guy in our relationship. Hmmm.. Geminis have always been presented as bright, creative and communicative, but also fickle, breezy, too easily distracted and flighty, in the era when I used to read these books. Intrigued, I googled (is it a verb?) the Gemini woman-Cancer man compatibility and this what I found:

A Cancerian man needs lots of love, care and attention, which is definitely not her cup of tea. She has too many interests and distractions to do this.

Gemini will bring light-heartedness and banter in the life of the emotional Cancer. The Crab is much more emotional than the Gemini and tends to be more deeply attached. Gemini, on the other hand, likes to keep everything superficial and on the outer surface.

I was going to give up when I found something positive.

He is the most loving of the sun signs and she, the most driven by her mind. If it works, it’s the ideal heart-mind combination.

It's funny how one goes through an entire phase of dating well researched, well-documented men, and finally, when you meet ‘the one’, all theory goes out of the window. Prior to the husband, most men I dated were Linda Goodman-proofed. So much so, that one dismissed the lack of enterprise of someone by attributing it to ‘being more attuned to things that were spiritual and mind-driven’, another’s phone clinginess was discounted to ‘excellent communicative skills’, a third’s self-obsession was camouflaged as ‘confidence and zest’, someone’s lack of commitment was merely ‘the-boy-who-never-grows-up’, and so on.

Life was all about making boyfriends look good on paper. Interestingly, some of these men were, according to Ms Goodman, perfect soul mates for me. I think she recommended Librans, Sagittarians and Arians for me and asked me to stay away from Cancerian, Virgo and Scorpio men.

But here I am, with my so-called ‘moody crab’, enjoying every bit of my marriage.

Especially the fact that we are as different as chalk and cheese. He likes order, I like flinging stuff around. I look at a cow and think of the mechanics of rumination. He looks at a cow and thinks of dinner. I am spontaneous, he likes planning. I dig paperwork, he runs a mile from it. I am a backpacker, he is an armchair traveller. I like fruit at room temperature, he likes it chilled. I like the corner shop, he likes malls. I am a yes and no person, he finds it hard to say no. I am organic, he is processed.

I guess what works is that we both love what we become when we are with each other. And we both love a good scrabble game. And we are still learning how to be good losers.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Art of not giving

It's funny when friends get married and then you have the typical wedding post-mortem conversations. A friend of mine recently got back from his honeymoon, and we got chatting. Since both of us had fun weddings with zero politics, the big thing to discuss was the presents. One thing we had in common was the utter apathy of some present givers towards the present recipients.

Since he had four times the number of invitees, he was stuck with more presents (read more ugly presents). I have already macro-analysed mine many columns ago—what took the cake were two exceedingly ugly vases (one of which the cat thankfully broke and the other has been sent to the mother’s) and some random photo-frames, toilet kits, make-up, lamp shades, crockery and tea-sets (one of which was a toy set I’m quite sure, and gifted by mistake). I really think the time for the gift registry has arrived in India, and if someone doesn’t do something about it soon, I am going to turn entrepreneur for sure.

A common phenomenon at every wedding is gift defaulters—the ones who eat, shoot and leave, and don’t bother to bring anything, because they think no one is keeping tabs. But they are wrong, because weddings are all about lists and even excel sheets (yes!), and one is taking notes. So I know what you didn’t do, cheapskate!

I decided to get into the mind of the gifter and was surprised by how many types there were:

1. There are those who play safe (I find that sensible), decide what is the amount of cash you are worth, put it in an envelope, seal it, give it, and forget about it.

2. There are those who either think cash is impersonal or are embarrassed to let you know how much they think you are worth, so they ask you what you want. Better still, they take you shopping soon after.

3. Some will ask you what you want beforehand and get you exactly the thing.. hurrah!

4. Some will angle for a house invite, so they can check out what you don’t have and give you that. Except that you have to do the work.

5. Some will ask you what you want and get something totally different and make you wonder.

6. Some compulsive gift shoppers will spend hours hunting for the one thing you might like, personally gift-wrap it, and bring it (this populace is shrinking)

7. There are those who, for months after your wedding still keep telling you, “I still have to get you your wedding present,” and not do anything about it. They will also keep throwing possibilities at you, and even if you bite, nothing happens.

8. There are those who keep blaming you for never telling them what you wanted, and hence depriving them of the privilege of giving you a present.

9. There are the cheap recyclers who recycle something old, something they got at their wedding, wrap it back, and gift it to you. The clue to this is big packages. Bigger the package, more the chances of it being recycled.

10. And finally there are those who don’t gift, and don’t care.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Yes, I can

I never make new year resolutions, as I am usually quite resolved anyway, so there’s not much to fix (how boring). But this year, I have noticed that the cat has been displaying a great sense of purpose since the turn of the year. So I wonder if it has indeed made some resolutions. When I probed her in catspeak, here is what she shared (of course some of it may be offensive to human consumption and I recommend animal guidance):

1. I will not waste precious feline time on menials like crows, pigeons and other insects that come visiting.. instead I will focus on higher forms on Discovery channel and National Geographic.

2. I will hence, demand full viewing rights of the television when my flat-mates are at work, as I need something to recharge my batteries and can’t be bothered sleeping all day (much as they imagine I do)

3. I will practise my long jumps on the woman of the house instead of the man, as she has more resilience and notices the art in my sport. I will now jump lengthwise instead of breadthwise, as she’s not very long anyway.

4. I will fully express my sexuality by devouring all the men that stop by the house, especially the blue collared ones, as they smell so delectable, and are not usually scared of me.

5. I will make the most of every outing - random car rides, visits to the vet, to the lady’s mother (who is rather kind and huggable, but has two petrified cats who are too old for my taste) and the old man who I think fancies me.

6. As soon as I attain puberty, I will yank off this collar my flat-mates have bestowed upon me, and elope with the first able suitor.

7. I will insist upon fat-free chicken and organic fish, as I have to maintain my svelte form for such a suitor.

8. All alerts of human visitors’ have to be submitted 10 cat hours in advance, with a brief biography of said human, so that I can study its aesthetic quotient and ankle-delectability.

9. In case of animal visitors, I need a video shown to me at least one cat day in advance so I can gauge the stupidity quotient of said animal and tone down my brilliance accordingly, so that they don’t feel inferior.

10. I will demand full access to the fridge and the cupboard, where I need to retreat from time to time, just to collect my thoughts.

11. The man of the house will not treat electronic gadgets as his personal property. What is life without wires?

12. I will file a petition for animal abuse against the nincompoops who blast loud speakers every night and insist on singing (sometimes orating) in their ghastly voices.

13. I will not be asked again why I go for the lady’s nose. She is rather charming, but she needs a nose job, what can I say?

14. I will not have my flat-mates talk about me like I am not in the room.

Meooow! Time for my beauty nap.