from this side to that

Note to Pretty Boys on the Street:

Thank you for being patient enough for this hearing. It is of utmost importance that I get this through to you now before u die thinking that all is right with the world inside your pretty little head.

I saw u at a crowded pub looking err…dishy. Cute, very cute I say to myself. Just the right height, clean stuff-free teeth, great hair, great eyes and all other blah blahs. Lingering glances, hint of a smile. And the evening is more or less set. 2 beers and 3 cocktails down I finally swallow all my inhibitions (well ok, not all, almost) to look up and actually do a weak wave. And before I realize things are set into motion, and you are walking upto me flashing a wonky grin, things are going weak in my knees, and I could swear that the whole room is suddenly dancing with rainbow colors (hic!). Its all just about right, I’m already someplace else inside my head with you, my friends have left me alone with knowing grins, you are here…almost, almost…there’s that cute smile again…you sit down: You speak—

“ Your looks are vairry beaootiphul. Want to dance? Chick? ”

And suddenly all my thoughts are in a whirlwind—cute grin, white tee, wonky smile, three cocktails, friends, glances, all collaboratively cumulating in a head rush while I struggle to stand up steady. And all this is apparently not clear to you since you so obviously live in a different dimension that can only be occupied by great looking guys who cannot spell c-o-n-v-e-r-s-a-t-i-o-n.
Since you still look cute and I’m still quite high I make another weak attempt at sanity:
-Er…sorry?
-(flashy grin again) I wazs stearing at you all night from other side. I wish u to dance with me. We can be vairy good friends.
-MY spaceship awaits and I must leave.

Hasty retreat. Disbelieving silence. And all that jazz.

Pretty boy 2:

Me: What about Pulp Fiction?
PB2: Ermm…
Me: You have seen it haven’t you?
PB2: sure. With all those rewind things and loads of blood, huh?
Me: Maybe you mean Kill Bill.
PB2: eh…Kilbil?
Me: (Sigh!) Don’t you see films at all?
PB2: Sure I do. I thought KANK was pretty good. Did u see that?

I rest my case.

Pretty Boy 3:

(talking to his reflection) Maybe I need to get my sideburns trimmed. If only I were 2 inches taller. (to me) Is my nose too shiny? Do I need to use a facewash? Do you think this hair gel makes my scalp oily? You don’t think I should powder my neck?
(to himself again) Darn, I shouldn’t have stayed out in the sun for too long. I’m too tanned for words.

Eeeks!
Repeat actions. Hasty retreat. Inward groan.

It concerns me to a deep, earth-shattering tragic extent that most of the males I encounter today who are inbetween wearing nappies and showing later signs of grey hair have temporarily (I hope temporarily) lost all powers of intelligent communications. That the so-called men of today have for some unknown obscure reason have forgotten how to talk. Really talk. Not as in move those jaw muscles and go “duh-duh-duh” but really talk. Communicate. Something that would make me think. Or atleast raise my eyebrows. And I don’t mean in disgust.
There isn’t any decent guy that I have seen in the last godknowshowmanydays who happened to have opened their mouths to speak and not made me cringe as an afterthought.
What have you done with the real men, you weirdlings? The ones who knew another way of using their tongues besides going yap-yap-yap.

It helps sometimes if you would talk about stuff that you actually know about, leave yourself out of the conversation most…well actually all the time, stop obsessing about your looks, and be in general a little well-read, with an IQ that’s scraped the average mark. And try also not to show off coz you will pretty much end up falling flat on your face and then I can only laugh and tell u to get a life depending on whether I’m sloshed or stoned. And if your bloodstream cannot handle alchohol, it would really be a wise idea to trust it and not consume so much that it becomes difficult to say if you are a duck or a geese, coz either way you are going Quack [hahah! That was ingenious!]
And if you are trying to impress anybody with some brains in their head by strutting your cell phone, it would be a wiser idea to put it on silent before it rings out and ends your sad game. And while we are on the topic of ring tones, an MP3 version of Jhalak Dikhla Ja (with clarity sound and disco beats and all that) isn’t really the height of cool. And stuff like opening doors, and saying ‘after you’ isn’t likely to kill you immediately as much as you would think it might.

Just a few things they never taught you at school as they already assumed you would know it! Their mistake for sure…but its never too late to learn, is it? And while we are at it…a few last bits. As much as you would like to ‘make friendship’ with me—spelling the noun as f-r-I-E-n-d isn’t going to make me think of you in a better light, howmuchever ingenious it might have appeared to you! And a full length conversation about the last time you had pet-kharap doesn’t do wonders either. Really.

Thank you for the time, Pretty Boy, and for staying with me through what I agree has been a fairly lengthy discourse—one that at first might not have made a great deal of sense in your head. But I promise, that if you would bother to go over it, slowly, with an uncluttered mind, keeping an Oxford dictionary at hand (just in case)—there will be a time that it will all be clear. As clear as you want your scalp to be. Yes, yes the shahid kapoor type.

PS: Sigh!