Can you imagine?

I can’t. You can’t. Nor can anybody else.

Imagination is not a facility that we were born with.

Before you raise furor over my ludicrous idea I plead you to spend a moment in serious contemplation…

When we imagine we actually put together several ideas…all of which have been previously encountered by us. However the final idea can be unique in its entirety…and this uniqueness leads us to the illusion of imagination. The recipe can be yours…but the ingredients were already there. We can NEVER concoct something that is new in every little detail. Have you ever been able to think of something like that? Or seen somebody else do so? Unlikely and impossible…

Am I refuting to acknowledge the talent of myriad poets and scientists and other accomplished people who have helped us to graduate from the brutality of the caves in the yesteryears to the security of the present day abode?

Not at all.

I am just saying that they are great composers… (My sincerest salute to all of them…)

It’s like mixing colours in a palette…we have a restricted spectrum of colours at our disposal. When we want a new shade we have to mix the already existing colours. When common people mix colours they generate a drab brown…when great people do so they find a delightful violet!

Anyway…so what if we can’t imagine…we can compose!

Also let me know if you can imagine…because that would mean you are none other than GOD Himself and I would really like to meet Him. (No…you don’t have to suggest the obvious way to do that!)

Cynic beauty

“You adore her/him because of her/his looks? How shallow are you?”

Is that not a pretty common sermon?

Beauty is always considered to be a vain quality. On the contrary intelligence is a highly acclaimed trait.

People generally use the following argument to consolidate their ideology:

“Beauty has been gifted to a person by God and hence a beautiful person does not deserve any praise.”

And we make our brains ourselves?

Another popular logic is:

“Beauty is transient…intellect develops with age.”

Wrong! Never heard of anything called senility?

If you are smitten by the tantalising beauty of a flower…so be it.

If you are besotted by a spell of blinding acumen…so be it.

But there is no need to denigrate somebody else’s object of affection. Either way we are hallowing something/someone for a quality which they have been blessed with. It is a matter of personal preference. If we want we can also think of our admiration as devotion to a higher power...a way of expressing humility in front of the supreme power that created something so enchanting. (That'd be a terribly pretentious effort at being spiritual though...)

I was equally enamoured by the machismo of Aragorn and the razor-sharp wit of Sherlock. I know they are not real…however you can cite real examples and set the trend.

Inside jokes

Jokes are supposed to make people laugh. They don’t make us cry…some exceptionally good ones and exceptionally bad ones do though. But there are some jokes that can make us intensely sad and happy at the same time…

When you spend a lot of time with a certain group of people you are bound to share some special anecdotes, invent some strange mannerisms and scheme some diabolic dialects that even the wittiest of the outsiders would not be able to unravel. While using such evolved maxims rarely do people realise their true worth. It’s when you have to be somewhere else away from that gang and you suddenly make a classified remark and others stare at you with puzzled countenances that you realise their value and …a pang shatters your heart…

School days now seem to be a distant past…yet the casual banters of those days will never go stale. Two very popular phrases were “mone ku” and “consult kore insult”. “Mone ku” translates to a “devious mind” but we used it to refer to a secret (and not so sacred) soft spot for someone! “Consult kore insult” was our equivalent of ganging up on someone.

In college “nongra chaat” and “full out” were very much in vogue. The original phrase was not “full out”…we had to tone the original phrase down! (I won’t tell you what it was.) “Nongra chaat” does not have any vulgar or salacious innuendo. It just means that someone has brewed up an outrageous and somewhat preposterous story. The meaning of “full out” is very hard to explain…it’s an intuitive phrase…you have to be there to get the essence!

I have seen my mother often use some strange phrases when she’s talking to her brother and sister. They rampantly say “dosh minute rest and dosh minutes bisraam”. I’ve also heard them say “detept” for defect and “harach” for harass and laugh over it again and again. With some prodding I got to know that they had picked up those words from the gardener who tended the garden in their childhood. His every mispronounced word and outlandish phrase had a bizarre appeal to the young minds of my mother and her siblings. They have long left behind their childhood days yet in each other’s company they often tend to use those phrases which had caught their fancy a long time ago…and each time I have seen them successfully recreate the lost aura of their childhood.

The inside jokes are a unique breed... At their inception they gift us unadulterated mirth and glee and they continue to be with us long after they go out of trend…to bring a smile to the lips…a tear to the eye…

A lost strain of music…

Long long ago…once upon a time…there were two people in my life who had always made me happy…who had not ever hurt me in any way…who had never failed to bring a smile to my face.

They were my (toy) gun and my doll Stella.

My red and black gun had two bullets…not exactly bullets…more like two darts. Our most conspicuous victim was a bottle of pickle which I had shot out of the window…the man living downstairs was not much amused…we were (my gun and myself). Ma had told me off for the unsavoury incident…but it was worth the fun.

Stella used to be a lovely blonde whom I had turned brunette. She also happened to have an enviable wardrobe which she never shared with the rest of my dolls. She looked materialistic and snooty…I am assuming she had had a lovely time. Stella may not sound as interesting as my gun but to me she was equally captivating.

They made me happy no matter how much I abused them…and yet one day I chose to trash them in a lonely corner…I kept ignoring them…and now I don’t even know where they are…to be true I also know that I would not really bother to get them back…

But sometimes I wonder…

Abandoned by me…are they happier in some other child’s loving and caring arms? Or are they pining away in a dark corner thinking about the great times we have had together?

"Boyfriend"

Why do people mangle and distort this word and use it to refer to almost anybody?

A boyfriend is someone (male) whom you are romantically involved with.

A friend who is a boy is NOT a boyfriend…he is a male friend.

An acquaintance had once introduced me to his friends saying, “I’ve always been a good boyfriend to her.”
God-oh-god! When I had felt offended he was taken aback. According to him there had been nothing wrong with his way of talking and I was simply overreacting!!!

A gentleman had once been invited to our college to hone our “soft skills” before the recruitment season.

In the mock interview session this gentleman chose to ask a girl the following question...
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
To which the girl nonchalantly replied, “As a matter of fact I have many.”
The gentleman-“So who/what is a boyfriend?”
The girl- “A male friend. But colloquially we often use the term to denote someone special.”

The gentleman could not have been happier with the answer.

And I could not have been unhappier to witness the painful travesty.

And why did I not object? I had felt it would be disrespectful.

Also they could have argued that they had meant boy friend and not boyfriend since the former term can be used to refer to a male friend. How could I have explained to them how jocular they sound even though their apparently flimsy logic could not exactly be disposed of?

There was a time when people would say, “Repeating a lie a 1000 times doesn’t make it the truth.”

But now if you keep repeating something wrong…sooner or later it probably would be accepted.

Just as "boyfriend" now has a secondary meaning in some dictionaries… “a male friend”.

Do you accept it?

I know I don’t and if any of my friends dare to disagree with me I’m telling you... I will take the ‘r’ away from friend.

Who’s in your dream tonight?

1. The charismatic cashier from the cafeteria
2. Someone who sometimes fills you with strains of revulsion
   
3. A gorgeous and much-married celebrity
   
4. The stunning teacher who taught your class for just 6 days
   
5. Some magnetic character out of an arresting fiction
6. A long lost love
7. An intimate (but platonic) friend
8. The domestic help
9. A total stranger

So who visited you last night?

Irrespective of who did…your reactions after waking up are more interesting than the dream itself.

How did the dream leave you feeling?

Did you feel...

Mmm…nice dream...could have lasted a little longer (wistful)…

or…

Bless my stars…it was only a dream (livid and then relieved)…

or…

You couldn’t have waited a little longer? (silently shouting at the alarm) I was about to snow skate with whoever-visited-you-that-night (indignant and enraged)…

or…

So you’ve managed to invade my dreams? Nice move! (impressed and applauding)...

or…

It wasn’t a romantic dream…then why do I feel that way? (confused)...

or…

Man! Never knew I’d dream about whoever-it-was (shocked...pleasantly?)...

or…

Are you left feeling distraught...wishing it was true…wishing you haven’t had the dream...wishing you were dead (devastated and shattered)…

If you are one of those people who cannot recall their dreams (don’t say you don’t have dreams…of course you do…you're just unable to remember them) then you are missing a lot…I feel sorry for you…dreams are like free movies (all genres) resplendent with life...which thrill you at night while resting and the best part is that you often get to star in these.

Advice gratis

Today at first I shall share an incident that had happened long, long ago…at a time that seems like ancient history to me now.

A dear friend of mine was insanely in love (or so she thought) with a ‘wine’ type of guy. (Read “Types of men” to know what a ‘wine’ type of guy is)

One fine day…
My friend: Do you think he likes me?
Me: I don’t know…it’s really hard to tell.
( I actually thought that the guy wasn’t even remotely interested in her but saying that in her face was not very appropriate…honestly I took him to be her passing fancy…turns out I was wrong…very wrong.)

A month later…
My friend: Introduce me to him.
Me: What? But how would I do it? I don’t know him myself.
My friend: You have to find out a way.
Me: All right. I’ll try. But I hear that this guy is a serial heart breaker.
My friend: Stop it...I won’t hear anything against him. Just do this for me as a favour.

I used my reliable connections but could not arrange an episode of casual introduction.
Me: I’m sorry…I can’t pull this off without making you look desperate.
My friend: I don’t care…just give him a hint or something like that.

I used my reliable connections again and got to know that I had been right all along. This guy was not interested in my friend but he wouldn’t mind adding one more ‘victim’ to his list. So that explains his sending silent misleading signals to my friend.

My friend: What did he say?
(I had a long chat with her and told her that this guy was leading her into a trap.)

A month of depression…

2 months later…
My friend: I’m going to tell him about my feelings.
Me: What??? Don’t!

After an hour of the most intensive and grueling session of bargaining we decided that she would mail him instead of telling him on the way to school.

[Pointers…she meant to tell him about her feelings during the rush hour near Swinhoe street…when the rest of the school would be there as well (on their way to school). You would realise how important it was to prevent her from making an ugly scene in front of almost the whole world…in the school days school happens to be the world for us…most of us.]

So after 2 more hours…
My friend: Listen to this… This is the exact mail that I’m going to send him.
[I sadly listened to her rantings.]
Me: Ok…

Next day…
My friend: (sobbing vehemently) He replied that… (some very cruel and utterly humiliating words which I would not repeat here.)

I started to bash him up and told her how she deserved a much better guy and all those clichéd consolations which never work…but after sometime had nothing to do but lend my shoulders for her to cry on.

This was a random example. The advice does not necessarily have to be along similar lines. It can be advice about love life, about career, about which haircut to sport, about which present to gift, about which storybook to read next, about how to kill (never happened to me…just suggesting)…

You must have come across such situations too. People ask for your advice and seemingly your (fully solicited) advice is panacea to them.

In the beginning (sorry for lifting the opening line of the Bible) it felt great to know you can help someone out. But now each time someone asks me to advise them I feel wary. The truth is that they are asking for your opinion and not advice. And don’t feel hurt and responsible when you see a loved one ignoring your advice and choosing their doom. You had never been given the power to protect them or to guide them to serendipity…accept it.

So do they not value you at all?

No! You have a very important role to play…read on…

Few days back I was asking for some trivial advice (yet of supreme importance to me) from ma.

Me: Ma, should I wear the beige outfit or the royal blue outfit?

Case 1-

Ma: The beige one.

My reaction: No…why didn’t she select the blue one…

Case 2-

Ma: The blue one.

My reaction: Good! So that settles it.

In my subconscious I was all along aware of which dress I wanted to wear.

Ma’s advice helped me to get in touch with my own wish.

The reins of our lives are always in our hands. Nobody is that confused (ever) that they would need to employ the service of another person to figure a way out of any dilemma.

At the end of the day people will believe what they want to believe, people will do what they want to do… When someone asks for advice our real job is to help them find out what they want to do.

Have you ever noticed?

Have you ever noticed how the same action carried out by different people can elicit entirely opposite reactions in us?

Imagine 2 men…t1 and t2…t1 is someone you dislike…(nope “dislike” won’t serve the purpose…it calls for a stronger word)…t1 is someone you despise and t2 is someone you admire (to be precise you are romantically interested in him).

So the situation is- t1 you abhor…t2 you adore (surprisingly they rhyme!)

Now this is how they would make you feel.

When t1 copies your way of talking- You are annoyed (very).

When t2 talks like you- He mirrors you…you two are meant to be together.

When t1 changes himself to please you- He has no self respect whatsoever.

When t2 moulds himself to suit your taste- He is so accommodating.

When t1 displays a trait absent in you- You always knew you two are poles apart.

When t2 does the same- You always knew opposites attract.

When t1 makes a clever joke- He must have heard it somewhere and is repeating it with a stupid expression that is killing the fun.

When t2 tells a stupid joke- You laugh heartily just to see the twinkle in his eyes.

When t1 hits the gym- He is a confirmed narcissist.

When t2 tones up- You develop a thing for brawn.

When t1 grows fat- What a slop!

When t2 grows fat- You suddenly start to think cuddly is cute. (I know it’s a bit hard to believe but it's true.)

When Bejan Daruwalla says t1 and you would make a great couple- You are in the 21^st century and hence you trash astrology in a jiffy.

When he says t2 and you make a great pair-A coy smile…matches are always made in heaven.

When t1 calls you up 2am in the morning- How inappropriate! You may not even answer the call.

When t2 does the same- You take a couple of seconds to calm your racing heart and then take the call.

When t1 says you look great in a sari- You show up wearing a short skirt the next day.

When t2 compliments you in a sari- From now on you will wear a sari as often as possible.

When you catch t1 staring at you- How dare he? You’ll punch him…no…no touching…you’ll hit him with a stick.

When you catch t2 staring at you furtively- You feel the blood rush up to your cheeks… you feel self conscious…“jaadu hai nasha hai” starts playing in the background.
(“Dekhti hai jis tarah se teri nazrein mujhe
Main khud ko chupaao kahan…”
-these exact lines. Haven’t heard the song? You should…it’s a beautiful song.)

When t1 stares at someone else- You heave a big sigh of relief.

When t2 does the same- Sleepless nights and soggy pillow.

When t1 commits a spelling error- How can one be so clumsy?

When t2 does so- Well...this one still irritates you a bit.

Note: Always t1 and t2 have a tendency to be singleton sets…t1 can be a null set too. And by the way, t1 and t2 are essentially disjoint sets…transition from one to the other is NOT at all possible. There are other sets (t3,t4…tn) like friends, good friends, best friend (whom you do NOT have a secret crush on…else he belongs to the intersection with set t2), acquaintances, teachers, relatives, strangers, et al.

Women (and men as well) appreciate improvements almost always. This post does not encourage men to stop bringing about positive changes in themselves…it just emphasizes the futility of doing so in the event of a man’s belonging to set t1 or set t2.

I have written this post after conducting an elaborate research on the whimsical behaviour of women …I however was not a part of the sample set. (I’m totally aware of the fact that this is not a courtroom and hence you cannot hold me guilty of perjury.)

5 things I hate about myself:

1. That my handwriting is not beautiful…it definitely is legible but the number of times I’ve looked longingly at the perfect handwriting of certain people around me is uncountable.

(Thank You God…at least I can write.)

2. That I’m not physically strong…not that I would like to punch anyone in the face (or in any other place) but I’d most certainly have liked to have had the assurance that I could if I had wanted to.

(Thank You God…I never really needed to hit anyone.)

3. That I cannot sing…one of the fondest memories of my childhood is that of my mum (mother’s sister) putting me to sleep on her lap effortlessly singing lullabies in her delightful voice. I’ve a little nephew now and it pains me to realise that I could never pass on the much cherished experience to him.

(Thank You God…I can talk.)

4. That I have motion sickness…I often feel sick (and throw up too) during long rides (sometimes during short ones too) which others seem to enjoy a lot (the rides, not my misery).

(Sorry God…can’t thank You…innumerable trips (regular and fun) have been ruined because of this problem.)

5. That I’ve written down the things I hate about myself but am incapable of writing down the things I loathe about myself.

(Let’s keep the poor overworked Fellow out of this.)

Till the end of time...

First sight- I ignored,

All the same I took a second look…

Pretty average- myself I told.

But shaken I felt…perhaps by fluke.

I gave it a thought,

And then laughed it off…

But with an unknown force I constantly fought.

Though the reason I was unsure of.

But I was afraid…

’cause I was sure a storm had started.

I asked, my voice laden with mockery,

Lost in me…

Will he always be?

Next time- things appeared even more grim,

Call of youth- advised a friend.

I tried hard to believe him,

’cause I did not want to meet my end.

And aware I was of my imminent doom,

The potion I was about to drink

Would mesmerise my soul in profound gloom.

As I thought so my heart started to sink.

Frantically I searched for the way out,

But once you are in there is no way out…

I asked, almost with an air of idiocy,

Lost in me,

Will he always be?

Later- doubtful I was no more.

I could listen patiently to my heart’s beat.

I felt slight tremors in the core…

I heard strange longings churning in it.

The high tide was gradually wading in…

Distinct were its surging and lashings.

Engulfed I would be if I did nothing

Yet I chose to ignore the warnings.

I had wanted to drown just by the shore,

I had everything, yet I had wanted more.

I asked, my voice fraught with irony,

Lost in me,

Will he always be?

I waited patiently for time to heal…

Steady was time…steadier my resolve to fall apart.

It still echoes the rhythm surreal…

Sacred as flame, accurate as dart.

As I watched with a sadistic glee,

I felt the noose around me tighten firmly,

I did not even try to wriggle free.

So content I was the inevitable end I could not see.

But shock and surprise did not cloud my vision.

What to realise? I was beyond realisation!

I answered myself with finality,

Lost in me,

He will always be…

PS:- Just because you have seen a rainbow there is absolutely no need to infer that it has had rained.

The most romantic season (in Kolkata)

There is a very good chance that you are expecting to read about monsoon. But honestly I have always found this particular season to be exceptionally gloomy. The sky dressed in drab rags, the flowers sobbing with downcast eyes, the leaves shedding copious tears…nature seems to be mourning a disaster of grave magnitude.

Well…the last few metaphors were not particularly expressive…so let us move to the real plane. Yes, monsoon can seem romantic but only from the confines of your comfy room. The sight of a raindrop trickling down the window pane can surely kick up your hormones and trigger in you an overwhelming desire to procreate but wait….I remember a few other instances too. For an already broken heart the same silky raindrop can wreak havoc. So you see monsoon is not always romantic…even when you are inside a room. And when you are outside? God…oh…god…who enjoys rain dancing in a natural setting? You do? Hmm…so mud splashing onto your fresh clothes is your idea of having fun? And if you were brought up in Kolkata (like I have been) you would know this…mud is not just soil mixed with water. For the sake of your mental integrity I will not elaborate upon the other constituents of “mud”. (For those people who are still curious it ranges from phlegm, rotting fruit peels to feces…ok I am stopping now!)
And your clothes stick to your body and sometimes the rain turns them transparent inviting lecherous glances from creepy men. If you are a man you probably are laughing away. Well...men don’t like it either…do they…when the wet clothes cling to their body accentuating the flab accumulated in the most inappropriate parts of their body…(a man with a well toned physique is a very rare exception). Women do not ogle (generally) but they do smirk in sarcasm.
I could go on but I think you have already got the point. The only time the rains are welcome is after a cruel and unrelenting spell of the strong tropical sun. That reminds me of summer.

“Oh, to not be in Kolkata now that May’s there!”
No, I did not mean April, though you ‘may’ add April and June to the list as well. The summer noons are so unbearable that you would not want to live anymore…so I do the next best thing to being dead…I sleep. But that is not all. The temperature would keep soaring till sleeping is rendered impossible. During this phase you would be tired and severely sleep deprived all 24 hours. And even if you live and work in air-conditioned rooms you would need to commute and get out once in a while. So the drastic fluctuations in temperature would give you “brain wrenching” headaches, your temper would shorten to less than a micron, you would pick up fights with every-possible-body and the world would happily label the Kolkatans ill-mannered.
I once had a friend who found summer to be the ‘coolest’ of all seasons. Summer was the most romantic season for this boy. I think he is still single…or not….if his taste in women is as weird as his taste in seasons then he might have found a match for himself.

And yes, the ominous spring…you will often find the Bengali poets extolling spring. All I can say is that I find this to be a blind imitation of the works of the English poets. Our springs are in no way comfortable or romantic. Recall that phrase about the darkest hour being the nearest to dawn. Tell me, at any given dark hour how can you tell if it would get even darker or if the darkness would start to fade. Well…spring would feel like the darkest hour minus the thrill of the unknown…here you are absolutely sure that it would get darker.
Apart from Holi, (which some shy people use as an excuse to touch people of the opposite sex), there is no romantic twist to this season. Some would wonder how and why I am leaving the fiery palash flowers out. You may like them but I find them a tad overdressed in the slutty way.

Just as the vernal equinox would bring the message of doom the other equinox would bring hope. Again the English poets would bring out the dreary and foreboding qualities of autumn. But I have always found the autumns to be a delightful time to be alive. The sky would don a vibrant shade of blue interspersed with soft and cool, pristinely white clouds. The sun would be unusually bright and yet the temperature would not make you want to die. The festive season would impart a childlike halo to every living being. Oh! It’s such a magical time. Many young romances (these generally do not last) bloom during the pujas. But yet I refuse to deem it the most romantic season. Why?
Well…the streets would always be traffic congested. At Kolkata, the population is way above the sane limit and as we all know too many cooks cannot cook the broth properly. And to be honest the autumnal sun’s megalomaniacal rays hurt the eyes a little…they could have been a bit more mellow. I shall tell you one secret…I tell everyone that I adore autumn because of its splendour and festivities but actually I am partial to autumn because I was born in autumn. How many autumns ago? Hey! How is that relevant here?

So autumn is not the most romantic season either. That leaves us with winter…the magnificent winter. You would look your best, you would feel at your best and you would have the confidence to inspire the best in your romantic partner. Some people (yes…I do mean the English poets) associate the wintry chill with stagnancy and death. My suggestion to such people is that they come down and spend one summer in Kolkata and never again in their lifetime would they speak disdainfully of cold.
Do you see something terribly lonely about the winter nights? Then…tell me, does that quality not make you value and cherish human company even more? Well…winter comes this close (I am making a small space between my thumb and index finger) to being the most romantic season but it is not. We seem to have run out of seasons but I believe we can accommodate one more season which I think is the most romantic of all…

The windy season.
The windy season is the most romantic season in Kolkata. When the wind blows against me it sweeps all the melancholia, exhaustion and dreariness off me. It gives me the overwhelming feeling of happiness that one feels only in the grip of first love. The breeze can be a gentle one or it can be a rough gale…I like them all. Though stronger the wind the better I feel. (Although the hot and dry tropical winds do not qualify...) I can keep on trying for the rest of my lives (yes…I sometimes do believe in reincarnation) but I do not think it would possible for me to put into words the heavenly bliss I experience in the windy season.
The flip side? Even though I feel romantic the wind sets my hair into an awful mess making me look like some truant from the asylum.

Types of men

Wine- These men would make women feel very special when they are with women but would only leave painful after-effects in their wake. Women simply get addicted to them. Even though every woman is aware of the sins of these men yet women find them absolutely irresistible.

Milk chocolate- These men are appallingly sweet and are suitable dating material only in the teenage. As women mature they gradually outgrow them.

Candy- These men can be the occasional sin for women…maybe the content of their fantasies for a couple of days only to be discarded ruthlessly in favour of someone with a better taste.

Ice-cream- These men are hopelessly romantic. Women enjoy their company at first but with time they turn clingy and mushy and create a lot of mess.

Dark chocolate- These men are intelligent, strong and intensely masculine. All women secretly desire to have one of these. The danger involved is of being overtaken and manipulated.

Junk food 1 (costly)- These men are costly to maintain, they only serve the purpose of an accessory in front of friends and after a certain period of time women realize that they have been duped by good advertising.

Junk food 2 (roadside and cheap)- These men would give women instant gratification but a day later they realise the unsavoury after-effects.

Putrid food- These men have an abhorrent quality in them. Women would rather die of starvation than have them.

Stale cake- These men used to be prized catches at some point of time but as of now they have lost their aura and magnetism.

Foreign cuisine- These men attract women very fast but the charm wears off even faster and soon women tend to feel lost and homesick.

Tea/Coffee- These men stimulate women and seemingly bring out the best in women by flattering them a lot. But there are some pretty unnerving long term side effects.

Milk- These men have all the nice qualities but women never want them. They would rather set these men up with their best friends.

Fruits- These men would definitely do a lot of good for the women they date but they are painfully boring.

Litchi- These men are almost perfect but a certain woman for some inexplicable reason may not want them even though she may appreciate all the qualities in them. (I chose litchi because I don’t like litchi whereas everybody else does…while reading you must substitute litchi with some food of your choice…something that you find unpalatable but others seem to relish.)

Salad- These men are undoubtedly very nourishing for women but if only they had a better dressing women would find them more interesting.

Dal-bhaat (calling them pulses and rice would have taken away the charm)- These men are the simpletons who are often chosen by women with some deep scar from their past from a man with normal intellect. (read food poisoning from eating out)

Meat- These men are filthy rich and women tend to flock around them leaving everything else behind but a after spending some significant amount of time together they are left feeling hollow and sick.

Medicine- These men are those whom women run to in times of trouble. Sure enough they can provide a cure to all the problems but for some unfathomable reason women find them bitter and repulsive.

Sizzler- These men always hold themselves in super high esteem and keep boasting about themselves. Sooner or later they go cold and the emptiness becomes apparent.

Water- This man is indispensable. You have him everyday yet you need him all the time to stay alive and happy. Yes…he is the one.