awkwardcauliflowers-blog

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An Inquiry Into the Nature of Jerks

by Loony Longbottom

I am very tempted to begin with “the Oxford English Dictionary defines Jerks as…” but something tells me it is a bad idea. It’s probably the repressed memories of all the debates I never won in school by starting with “the dictionary defines…”. 

Also the OED definition for a jerk is too mild for my liking while the Urban Dictionary definition is a tad too sexist. Jerks, as I mean it here, are selfish reprehensible cads who come in all shapes, sizes, colours, sexes and sexual orientations; much like beach bodies. 

This writing bout has however been triggered by one specific person (like always) and hence is centred around the heterosexual male subset of the jerk universe. For our academic purposes here, we’ll divide them into two groups: 1. The Bad Boys 2. The Nice Guys 

The bad boys are okay. You know they are bad, like having bacon grilled cheese for dinner every single night. You expect them to treat you shit but you still want them because they are so yummy and exciting. And also because everyone asks you to stay away and a defiant, rebellious part of you just wants to prove them wrong. So if and when things crash and burn you hate yourself for making the same bad decisions again; but ah well, in the immortal words of Taylor Swift, “I knew you were trouble when you walked in”. 

The nice guys, now they are dangerous. The Self professed Nice Guys and their eternal purgatory - the friend zone - is mind fuckery that deserves an entire separate rant for itself and I will not get into that right now. This is about the guys that even we think are nice.You know right, that all food that claims to be low fat is almost always just plain crap harming you even more, but you think is good for you: yep that’s them. All your friends like him (which is usually half the battle won). And he apologises when he forgets to call as promised; every time. And he throws in this one nice gesture every once in a while. He calls your best friend when he can’t reach you and he is worried because you have been working late. He’s the guy whose stories make your friends go awww over their Sunday brunch Mimosas. It’s all good. Until it is not. One day he is just not into you anymore. And that can happen to anyone.  Sometimes people can’t help falling out of love just as people cannot help falling into it. 

That is when you sit with your partner and tell them how you feel and try to work things out with minimum hurt caused. Not him of course. He’s the nice guy. He can’t break someone’s heart. That’s not good for his karma. Then again he is also a jerk aka (as we decided) a reprehensible selfish cad so he needs to have his way. So now what? It’s simple, make your partner believe that this is ending because of them. 

Having known a few nice guys in my time, I realise how effective this can be. Why have someone hate you when they can hate themselves? Let them think they aren’t good enough for you or smart enough for you or that it’s because of the weight they put on in the past year. Of course you don’t voice any of this, just tactfully imply. Cancel the holiday you planned together. When they ask if you have started finding them repulsive, you needn’t say yes, just pointedly change the subject. Visibly cringe when they touch you. All the time maintaining that you care and you don’t want to hurt them. Except that you already are. Eventually your partner, after agonising hurt over a prolonged period, will get the hint. Sometimes the process may take time, but hey, no one can accuse you of not being nice throughout. You will escape with your nice guy reputation intact, though the same may not hold for your partner’s heart.There’s this saying that you see on bumper stickers, chest prints of tshirts, and on the FB TL of your aunt who tries to be cool on social media, it says-Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere else.As a corollary to that, I’d like to say-Bad boys come see me in my bedroom, nice guys go fuck yourselves.

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Today in literary inspiration:  Mr Darcy shows us how to revise first impressions

by Roonil Wazlib

In life, you can be like Mr Darcy. This means you are hot, generally snooty, and with a library so fantastic that girls want to marry you. This also means that you are given to uttering obnoxious things with pompous hauteur.

“My good opinion once lost, is lost forever,”declares our Dude with the Ten Thousand Pounds a Year in the Netherfield  drawing room, leaving Elizabeth amused-incensed (amucensed? no?). But, by the end of the book, both Fitzy boy and Lizzie are revising their opinions left, right, and centre.

You see, Miss Austen does not agree with the whole first impressions are last impressions thing. (Not for nothing was this book called First Impressions in its original draft.) She’s throwing in a cautionary tale here: opinions based on pride and prejudice are bound to be proven wrong.

What’d you say? First impressions are not the last impressions?  

Here are the four  times when Darcy has to revise his preconceived notions and erroneously formed opinions:

1.      Elizabeth: Of course. First he’s like “tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me,”. Then he’s like totally “meditating on a pair of fine eyes”. Then he’s considering her the “handsomest woman of his acquaintance”. Then he’s all “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you”. And straight off the bat, he’s making an “avowal of his feelings” in the WORST MARRIAGE PROPOSAL EVER.

2.      Elizabeth’s khandan: After making several uncomplimentary references to  Elizabeth’s “inferior” connections, he not only goes on to respect, but also have a deep regard for her cool uncle and aunt. (Also, his own father encouraged him to be proud and his aunt is a total sour-faced cow, so a little khud-ke-gireban-mien-jhankna here.)

3.      Jane: He breaks up Jane and Bingley’s cosy relationship because “her look and manners were open, cheerful, and engaging as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard.” In fact, Jane is behaving 100% in accordance with ideals of feminine behavior, namely, not to show any desire. (We all know what happens to women who are too demonstrative or exhibit their desires: “…that one false step involves her in endless ruin,” says Mary. “…she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex.”) Darcy’s male privilege is the reason behind this gross misreading, which he corrects later in the book.

4.      Stupid commentary on women’s imaginations: When Miss Bingley overhears him praising Elizabeth at the Netherfield ball, she sarcastically asks him when she is to wish him well. Instead of saying, “By the end of this book,” (correct answer) Darcy snubs her with this retort: “A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment.” (wrong, judgmental, generalizing answer). Because, this is EXACTLY what he does! He goes from admiration to love to proposing matrimony to proposing matrimony again. Apology due, Fitz.

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(Always) In Sickness and (Never) in Health

by Rhema Mukti Baxter

I have fever. Un/fortunately, it is not serious enough to be Chikanguniya which is all the rage in Delhi, nor the in vogue Typhoid. Nor can my brain wrecking headache and debilitating bodyache be attributed to the du jour of Dengue.

It’s just a strain of something which once upon a time used to be serious and is now just a fever gone wrong.

To understand the horror behind it one must register the fact that I, in my full senses, refused a slice of *hold your breath* banofee pie. Yes! Believe it or not? Thaaat happened. I am sure to regret the refusal but for now food, of all shapes and sizes, and I aren’t the best of friends.

A wise ass friend has taken it upon himself to blame a recent heartbreak for the fall in my usually high levels of ADHD. I refuse to pander to the notions of societal norms. The heartbreak didn’t bring about the onset of a fever. It might have wrecked my life/friendship/relationship goals and left me a sloberring mess, but, no sir, it did not bring about this fever.

This febrility plaguing my heart and soul can be easily traced back to the unhealthy life choices I’ve been so very conveniently making in the past year.

This, my dear friend, is what happens when you refuse sleep, prefer the company of electronic gadgets over humanoids, indulge in self-loathing on a daily basis instead of healthy adjustments and limit your intake of food to the minimum. You run into a high temperature - without any source, reason, logic or rationale.

I, hereby, end this rant because my eyes hurt.