the-goddess-711

[the-goddess-711]

Dating- Shating

Last fifteen days have been an overwhelming journey. I met 5 different men and went on six dates and it has been a journey of mixed emotions. The first date I went on, I didn’t have any expectations and it went as a lot of fun- like a friend to hang out with. Sure we didn’t exchange numbers or connect again, because we both knew that we met to have a good fun time. 

 I was smitten by the second date because of his mannerisms and his interest in me, which fizzled out quickly like soda on a summer day. They give and then they take it all. He was hot because I thought he was (dumbass pheromones), then realised dude had below average intelligence and wore crocs and ankle length jeans and texted like a fish. I know I deserve better so I walked out. Dude messaged like he was all in the first two days, then withdrew like an ATM thereafter. I asked once, then figured he was just disinterested, and I knew my worth better than standing around and waiting for someone who had an EQ of a carrot. Never invest in such energy which only takes away from you. Women, have so much to give, give it someone who will also give back to you in abundance.

The third date was good, but dude just rushed his tongue in my mouth and i drove to the closest bakery to just throw up. We flirted, we walked and we had the best time, but I expected him to understand when I said we can only kiss on the cheek and not force himself in such a manner. 

Next date was fun, what a sweet kiss on the cheek too, but dude was a loser who dumped my friend after their engagement and didn’t think it important to tell me when I mentioned about my engagement being called off; dick move? Dick move! He wailed about how his ex-cheated on and played the victim card.  Having gone through something similar, I knew better than going out with this guy and unmatched with him. 

My next date was a total “steal”, dude bragged about having learnt his sex moves from a friend who consulted a prostitute. He was a step closer to calling himself the sex god because of how girls have confessed they want to marry him, after one “wonderful time” in bed. He wouldn’t shut up about living or travelling to the USA and literally had no interest in me or my profession or my life. He was sure as hell interested in my ex and why we called off nine years; "but why?" I ended up paying the dinner bill, because my shrimp was expensive, and he bad mouthed all his dates for whom he paid. I had to make this dude understand that dating a neurosurgeon like him was still a liability and girls deserve better than an arrogant loser who bragged about his sex moves on the first date. He described himself as charismatic and I tried really hard to be mesmerized by his PUMA jacket in Bangalore’s 36 degree humidity and his narcissistic ass dragging me around Bangalore Streets like we were on a mission. 

Dating is exhausting. The mind games you play with these boys takes me back to High School. Why do boys never graduate from the idea of chasing and being chased? You like a girl? Tell her and commit to it and take it forward from there. Where are the real men with real feelings and real intentions? Everyone is just so afraid of being vulnerable and showing their true side and having their feelings exposed. Why? So what if that one girl broke your heart years ago, learn from it and heal yourself and move on. You boys have caused more damage to women, who actually heal from the trauma and know what they want and put themselves out there. You play juvenile games and try to manipulate them into having some mindless animal sex and pretend like you are the stud? If you want to ultimately marry the girl your mumma shows you, should I show her your hinge profile and your unsolicited dick pictures? Maybe it would help her find a daughter in law in process within your backward community, based on her son’s preference and the asthetics of his dick.

Dating is a mess. Boys are a mess. Real men with real feeling and intention are either gay or taken or are busy with the wrong girl, paying her bills and obsessing over while she cheats on them. Work on yourself boys. Behind that fuckboi persona that you all put up, is a sensitive lad who once could love and most importantly wants to be loved. Your love doesn’t come from sexual gratification and playing mind games, it comes from owning up to your flaws, working on your issues and showing up. By the time boys translate this process,  they are in their 30s; the beautiful lush of hair has disappeared, and lack of sunscreen and skin care starts showing on their not so flawless skin and the attractive career and other attributes of your personality are mostly generic to women.  Women by this time are far out of your league and you will ultimately have to settle for what you find. Women could have multiple toys and name one after you and have the best time of their lives, without subjecting themselves to your stress and situationships. I am not hating on men here, I am hating on the process that men pick up to deal with their romantic lives and the collateral damage that they cause on the women they choose to be with. We cannot validate your sex moves or play your hot and cold texting games, we can simply return your love and affection if it comes from a genuine place and make life easier, especially in this chaotic world. 

[the-goddess-711]

The Journey of Bras

Let me tell you a story of these twins. Cant say they were identical, one was smaller than the other, but others couldn’t say. They stuck together through thick and thin. On some days they were perked up, ready to impress the opposite sex and take over the world, on other days they were soaking in their own sweat, wishing they never existed.

These twins my friend, are popularly called breasts. Women all over the world have wished at odd times that they didn’t exist, while such a thing would be a nightmare to most men. The world has always associated breasts with a woman’s sex appeal. They are wrapped in silk and satin, with the most intricate designs and painful wires, with an invention called the brassier. They always make you realize how heavy they are, as their weight hangs through delicate straps which leave bruises on your shoulders. 

Through years of puberty, we are introduced to our first experience – the sports bra. Its not a garment, it’s a feeling. At 13, with your first period, acne breakout and the  mushy feeling on seeing that annoying boy in class, the sports bra is hugging you through all the tough time saying its ok, all this is going to be fine. Then growth hormones play a cruel joke. They sometimes multiply making you real big or they just decide to hibernate leaving you at the mercy of push up bras for the rest of your life.

Mom takes us “BRA” shopping, to one of those stores where the cotton- lizzie – bizzie brassiere is expanded out for display. The shopkeeper seems to be experienced from the eyes and can tell what is right for you, all this and the sports bra still gives you the reassuring hug. The hormones through all this continue playing their cruel jokes. Gone is the comforting hug, now the straps weigh you down with the burden of being a woman. They tug you, not hug you. Mummies and aunties giving us those eye rolls when the unhappening happens- the bra strap is seen!! The tacit signals asking you to cover up your cleavage, while you are group studying for board exams?!

Life gets better, at least colorful, with options. We are introduced to a world of lingerie, from our “well informed” friends in college who btw only shop in M&S, La Senza. The right fitting bra, makes you feel there is hope in this world. You make truce with the enemy and long gone is standing enmity between you and the cotton lizzzie- bizzie, since early teenage years. Showing off your strap now is a fashion statement and the cleavage is no big a deal. This truce comes at a price. If someone told me this earlier, I would have started saving from the day I became a teenager. 

But then, there is another phase. Its called “FREEDOM” when your office overworks you and underpays you. Your love life is like borderline diabetes and you want to just eat ice cream and sleep in your unwashed trackpants. Here, the BRA is gone. They understand that the twins need their space and during this period of hardship, subjecting them to more pain would be inhuman. They lie silently, hidden in pullovers or below the pillow – they will be there for you when the delivery guy comes with pizza.

The twins have seen them all. The underboob sweat, betrayal of the wires, snapping of the straps and rashes. They have seen the good side too. 

When life gives you Breasts, sometimes give them some rest. Unleash them when you can!

#bra #women #girls #womenproblems #life #lingerie