Losing My Virginity and Other Dumb Ideas by Madhuri Banerjee Read Free Book Online Page B

necklace for later when you really need the money than blow it on a pair of jeans that you don’t need now?’ I asked prudently.
    She looked at me as if I was a moron.
    ‘Later, I’ll be dead. Right now,’ she paused for dramatic effect, ‘I need to look good for the men who will buy me stuff for later anyway.’
    One could never beat Aditi’s logic, and I had to admit she did look good. Her long, chestnut hair, carefully retouched in the L’Oreal salon every two months and a lean body that was worked out at the gym at least thrice a week made her look like a model in her size 28 jeans. Instead of being an assistant director in Bollywood, she should have been a heroine.
    But today her logic about men was all warped for me.
    ‘Men,’ I started, ‘need to intellectually stimulate me for me to go anywhere with them … No! I don’t like that colour. It’s hideous!’ I said in between, referring to a pink paisley top she had chosen. ‘The men I’ve met are mentally vapid and physically challenged.’ Aditi and I had the kind of conversation most outsiders wouldn’t get. We could have one main topic and several side stories and never lose track of any of them. We multi-tasked with our discussions!
    She poked her head out of the dressing room and asked startled, ‘You mean they have a small willy?’
    ‘Shhhhh …’ I said, for the second time that day. Then I looked around and added, ‘No, I mean they’re all average looking and short anyway.’
    Aditi liked shocking people. That was her thing. She spoke loudly and laughed even louder so people would notice her and be scandalized. I had become so used to her that I knew when she would take off on something. But it still made me cringe sometimes when she couldn’t act normal, always wanting attention from everyone wherever we went. But I kept quiet. Aditi was a good friend and I really didn’t need to annoy her to prove a point.
    She came out of the dressing room, carrying the clothes she wanted to buy on her arm. She signalled to me to go towards the cashier with her while she commented, ‘Look at the statistics. 60 per cent of our male population is below the poverty line and ugly. 10 per cent is rich and ugly. 10 per cent is old and ugly. 10 per cent is adolescents and ugly. That just leaves 10 per cent who are good looking. Now these men might be around our age, they might be married and they might even be too full of themselves to notice you. But to find someone who is intellectually stimulating
and
good looking, well the statistics are completely against you!’
    I couldn’t believe she had thought so long and hard about that answer. Or maybe she was just bullshitting me. But I began to wonder. If you went by that logic, every single woman had compromised in her relationship. And that no woman was completely happy.
    So I replied to Aditi, ‘We never compromise when we take up a job. We don’t compromise when we buy new jeans. So why should we compromise on relationships that are supposed to be the most important aspect of our lives? When I go to buy something and it doesn’t fit I don’t say, “at least” the colour is right, or if we have to buy a house, we don’t give a crore and say “at least” it’s in a nice locality even if it is too small. We don’t take anything in our lives we’re not completely satisfied and happy with. So why do we take crap from men? Or for that matter, crappy men? Why are we saying “at least” he is funny, or “at least” he is rich? Why do women compromise on the biggest thing of all? The men!’
    Aditi didn’t reply. Instead, she changed the topic, which was so typical of her. She could never be wrong. And when she didn’t have an answer or was uncomfortable with a question, she would change the topic completely and pretend as if the earlier conversation was over with her last statement. It was a very ostrich way of living life, but she had mastered it.
    ‘Now we need to pick out some new clothes