Thousands of years ago man made fire, invented wheel, cultivated lands into farms and sort of got civilized. I just cannot believe that a man only did all these things. Because, he cannot do anything at home now. If man did all this, he is better off being a neanderthal compared to the current version.
Of course, by reading the first paragraph the words “feminism”, “patriarchy”, etc. must be floating in front of your eyes already. I will not even go there today. I will keep it simple. I will only talk about the difference between the life of a man as a bachelor and a husband (to a woman).
Oxford dictionary meaning: a man who is not and has never been married.
Actual meaning: a man who knows how to do his own work until he finds the one (his wife) to do all his work free of cost.
*there are a few bachelors who don’t even know how to do their own work because there is mommy for everything. Yes, they take their underwear home on the weekends because mommy knows what to do with them. Even at home, they don’t even put those clothes into the washing machine. Because mommy knows how to do it. These bachelors only know how to wear their underwear, fart in them and sometimes discretely fap in them. A thumb in the mouth, a thumb in the pants, that is all they are.
Oxford dictionary meaning: a married man considered in relation with his spouse.
Actual meaning: a man who suddenly develops the inability to do his work or remember where he kept his things that only he uses, but reacts harshly if the wife displays the same traits.
Well, #notallmen is waiting for me, isn’t it? Oh, fuck it.
There is a saying in Kannada – hani hani kudidare halla. Its meaning is same as ‘little drops of water make a mighty ocean.’ You better remember this. Because every little thing that momentarily pisses you off but you ignore later trickles down to the ocean that is getting accumulated inside you to bring out a tsunami later. You just don’t know when the tides rise. Oh, coming to the tides. Tides -> Lunar -> the Moon -> Periods -> Hormonal Imbalance. You get the hint, right? No, it is not always our periods. We don’t physically bleed all the time. Sometimes it is a woman’s mental bleeding because a man doesn’t do anything around the house to help her. It is the same house in which not only the woman, but the man also lives. He just thinks that he is paying for everything. Not always. Nowadays, woman is also working out of the house. So, yeah, that’s it. There comes a mental question of ‘so what?’ Up your arse.
In the event of a man somehow benevolently agreeing to help the woman of the house with the household chores, she has to repeatedly tell him what has to be done. Not once, not twice, lose the count, lose the mind barely together and done.
‘Oh, baby, I forgot.’
‘How can you forget when I have been telling you so many times?’
‘Why are you screaming? Are your periods nearing?’
I have written down only two daily chores on a whiteboard in our kitchen. My husband says he forgets to see it. It is in the eye level and he doesn’t walk looking at the floor. Even if he sees the board I bet he scratches his head asking ‘What do I do with this?’
If a man screws up something, that’s because they just forget what to do next, basic work that they should be doing. But if a woman even reacts to his inability, it is just her periods. Inability here is the excuse of forgetfulness or laziness, not being a retard or physically handicapped.
If one of the household chores i.e. cooking is too much of an inconvenience, the man just orders food from outside or eats outside every single day every single meal, or hires a cook. Are these free of cost? No, but sounds convenient at the beginning of the month when the bank account looks good. Towards the end of the month, ‘Oh, baby, would you mind trying some diluted boiled and mashed rice water with me for a change? I feel like finally going on my diet?’ If the woman says yes, then comes ‘I just read this is good for weight loss, but I don’t know how to prepare it. Can you do it today? I will do it tomorrow.’ That tomorrow never comes. How can a woman refrain from pouring that diluted boiled and mashed rice water into the man’s rear? Oh, she can’t do that because she has to be tolerant. Why, dude? Show me this ages-old contract papers that our thousand times removed granny has signed agreeing to be the tolerant one.
Today, I was taking a nice nap in the evening. I rarely sleep in the day time, but today, I needed it. But the husband had to go to the gym. He couldn’t find his protein shaker that only he uses and he only washes (thank god). He woke me up from my nap, asked me where his protein shaker is. When I didn’t get up from my place, he ventured on his own looking for it, ransacked the washed vessels tub, and stormed out of the house when he still couldn’t find it. He did not say a word while stepping out of the house, not even the usual ‘bye’ or ‘will be back soon.’ I am like ‘What are you pissed at? It better be yourself and not me. You weirdo.’ I am pretty sure if I try to explain this to him, he will be like ‘Do you want to start an argument, that’s all, right?’ No apologies. Shouldn’t even be expecting one because Erich Segal wrote ‘Love means never having to say you are sorry.’ Up his arse too. I have a feeling he wrote this line in his book Love Story to convince his wife to not expect apologies from his, ever, be it whatsoever.
Why do men think of their inability as them being entitled? Or is it the other way around. Is their feeling of entitlement itself is the cause of their inability? Oh, come on! What are they even entitled of? But who are we to think so much. We are just women. Everything is done by men, even the thinking. We just kill time, and sometimes we are blessed with the accusations of killing men too.
Too much of a rant, isn’t it? Then better start understanding women. We are not complicated. Try to be an actual man instead of still behaving like a wiener.