Saturday, June 18, 2011

Why do men marry?



 So I am back. After a three week hiatus, some of which was technically a vacation, a rather feeble attempt at finding ‘me’ time post marriage. Okay, I am one of those people who loves travelling alone (although now, I am inextricably linked to a blooming toddler whose boarding pass still lists him as an infant, much to our collective annoyance). 

Yes, I did miss the husband when it came to negotiating luggage and trolleys, but that was about it. I guess when you’ve been single for as long as I have been and married for as little as I have been, you value the ‘me’ time even more. The boy is a good traveller, low maintenance, loves airport lounges, the outdoors, markets, parks, new faces, new food and practically everything I love, so was a good travel companion. He is also in that phase where his smile melts hearts and faces, giving me additional me time to wander, ever so slightly out of his radar.

The very next day, the husband called. Now, I have said this before, but I can’t deal with these “miss you” calls, whatever that makes me out to be. “Sorry to bother you darling, but Nadia...”

Nadia is my first born, my feline goddess, the resident slut.

Turns out, Nadia jumped out the window on to the ledge (don’t panic, I live on the second floor, so it wasn’t really danger zone), and decided to go walkabout around the perimeter of the building. The husband had, in the meantime called an animal NGO,  an ambulance and the fire department. Two hours and no interventions later, Nadia walked back into the house.

Phew! And it was only day one, I thought.  

On day two, he called again. No, actually, this time he croaked.

“What happened to your voice?”
“It’s pouring cats and dogs in Bombay. I think I have got the sniffles. Also my throat hurts, and I can’t talk much.”
How wonderful, I thought. Would that mean no more calls?
“Why don’t you talk to me instead? Should I start a course of Amoxycillin? Is it better to start it now, or wait till tomorrow, because I really really want to go to this party tonight and break it down. It will cheer me up.”

I was tempted to start a lecture on the demerits of mixing alcohol with antibiotics and the pharmacist in me (yes, I have one of those degrees tucked away under my clothes in the cupboard) was outraged at the abuse of my favourite, cheap and cheerful drug which helped me wean him off the ten-times-as expensive antibiotic that he was addicted to, prior to meeting me. Not that I am one for drugs anyway, but they help with the whining. 

Whatever.

Turns out he did go to the party and he did break it down with the five-inch heel types and did get his Party Hard Driver (yes!) to drop a certain nubile nymphet home and did go to an after-party too, and did feel twice as miserable for the next two days.

But the calls stopped. And I was able to get back to ‘me’ time.

And then it was time to return.

I came home to a few things, apart from a tender husband:
An Aquaguard that had stopped working.
A broadband datacard (that is what Reliance chooses to call its abyssmal internet connector) that wouldn’t work.
Random lights and bulbs that had gone bust and hadn’t been replaced.
An absconding maid.
Over-fattened cats, thanks to a thriving diet of Whiskas (because the husband couldn’t really follow instructions on how to cook rice for their fish).
A strange red feather stole, a prop from aforementioned theme party that was gifted by nubile nymphet, as a token of appreciation for dropping her home.
Unfolded clothes.
Unchanged sheets.
A leaking bathroom.
Various takeways in the fridge that had begun to provide accommodation for flora and fauna.
Toenails on the verge of curling (his).

Which is when I realised that men are innately irreversible pigs, no matter how old they are, how long they’ve been married. And however hard you may try to work on them, they go back to rolling in their own filth (and are somewhat comforted by it) the minute your back is turned.

So even though marriage is the last chance for a man to redeem himself, it is far from perfect.



7 comments:

  1. Tsk Tsk Tsk....I did warn about the wet soiled towels on the bathroom floor in a previous comment. We men are such creatures of habit.

    Now for us, the remotes have to be just so far from our fingertips and call it Freudian substitution but we hit the roof when the remote is not touchable to our gropes.

    The mess as you call it, is order in our universe...don't you know that the world was born from chaos and into chaos we will descend.

    As to nubile nymphets the less said the better. Being brought up on a staple diet of damsels in distress, all she has to do is go "ooh aah ouch" and every one of us is by her side.

    As to the various little kinks your husband has, its normal, why waste food, till you know its irremediable,why fold clothes and sheets when we need to unfold them again (we see it as efficiency of effort), and why replace one bulb at a time, when we can wait for more of them to go bust and replace them all at one time.

    Kya karen , hum aise hi hain....when you bought the package didn't you read the ingredients .... clearly said ... contains nuts ...may cause allergies.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hehe! That list was hilarious. How can one man possibly not manage some few things properly!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ha ha ha that's super funny, but we must seriously start a hubby school, coz they can't even take responsibility for their own children, or do they act this way so we don't leave them with the kid/s.
    All in all very funny.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Hmmm...looks like except for me all the other comments are from young ladies...stop picking on us. (just joking pick away, we know you care.....)

    We have our own systems,if we leave a food tray on the bed , its because we know it will either be cleared by magic or we are still eating that last bite after finishing this round of the video game.

    I wonder if I should start a womens list, that men find a problem:

    lets see, top of the list is :

    1) Mismatched underwear...hmmm how difficult is it to pull out a matching pair from the drawer...they taught us colors in school....(and women why we oggle lingerie ads)

    2) When were watching TV, its silence time --- (I do want to hear that news about the nuclear disaster in Japan and not what Amma in the neighborhood did.)

    3) Women keep talking about "me" time...what about men "me" time.....the moment we come home, unless we listen to every detail of the day, its youre ignoring us....

    Should I go on.....LOL

    But ladies, all in all, we bought the package and at least 90% of the men I know are ok with it.

    There thats another difference right there....

    Indi

    ReplyDelete
  5. sorry to burst your bubble indi, but matching underwear is more ocd than aesthetics ( didnt you ever do art and learn about mix and match?)
    as for tv, i think if men could marry their tvs, they would be happiest. the way things are, they are almost married to it. just don't expect us to treat it like some solemn goddess or a sanctum, is all we ask
    as for 'me' time, please go somewhere and leave us alone, please!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Lalita I so love the way you write!! It's good fun reading!! Keep Goin :)

    ReplyDelete