BY SANTOSHI JAIN
Helen of Troy had a face that launched a 1000 ships. Menelaus, her husband, a central figure in the Trojan war, didn’t understand her and she spent enough time with Paris, best known for his elopement with her, and directly causing the Trojan War. All this only to realize – all glory no guts.
Arthur Miller, best known for writing the screenplay of Death of a Salesman, invented sexting by writing his then to be wife, Marilyn Monroe, a racy letter months before their impending marriage.. Final destination? Divorce.
Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton kept running to and fro each other’s arms. They’d get married and the “D” word would happen.. Must have kept their lawyers busy and dizzy all at the same time, let alone us poor readers..
Lesson learned – Marriage is the Death of a Relationship
A beau knows it’s not safe to walk out of the loo with the toilet seat raised up. But give him a couple days after he gets married. The toilet seat is in a perpetual position of exposing its business in full view. A belle dolls up till the day she gets married. The advent of the frumpy nightie or for the westerners amongst us, the plaid pjs, and oiled hair with glasses or equally, the mask and the cucumbers that could only be defined as makeup prep for halloween, then makes the foray. The smell of roasted garlic in mustard oil with methi leaves apparently is a perfect embodiment to encompass the scent of this woman.
Oh, the beau isn’t far behind. His fingers will perpetually smell of raw onion and freshly oozed sneeze, if not worse (lord help me).
But sex is convenient and the baby happens. Baby sleeps in the middle and has 2 distinct P sessions. Pee & Poop and just for good measure, introduces a third, Puke. Whatever romance was left in the darkness of the night and the painful struggle of a long day has now been flushed down the toilet which has its seat up in beautiful view.
But homosexuals have mostly cracked the code at this marriage thingamajig. Why else do you think gay couples roam around all happy? The toilet seat is always perpetually up or down depending. The raw onion and sautéed garlic make a happy harmonious blend in with pheromones with an organic call out to nature.
The heterosexuals haven’t yet figured it out though. They are cursed by Huffington Post doing rounds of “toxic marriages”. One of the reasons quoted (and sometimes used as clickbait) is: “You can’t remember the last time you were really happy in your marriage”
Well paint me green and color me insensitive, but have you seen the service tax we pay on F&B at restaurants? Not to mention the mandatory service charge. Of course the beau uses his depraved brains and wants to get some more wads of cash out for the pretty young waitress. While the belle fumes over how a conversation-less meal should have stipulated costs especially when she’s on the wrong day of the cycle and of course the food was completely unappealing!
Another reason quoted is: (another clickbait) “Your interactions with your spouse have turned downright mean”
Like helllllooooooo! The British may have defined the “divide and rule” method of politics but the beau never really wrapped his little head around division of labor. The labor pains: hers, the labor of rearing: hers, the labor of rearing him: *also* hers. While he’s caught wondering where is my fun-spirited girl who’d enjoy doing nothing but chatting and watching movies and bowling and all those fun things has disappeared, she has at some point in the exchange of I do’s, decided that she’d turn from his fun girlfriend to his mother from another mother. And what do you get with shifting of roles? The choicest of hurling abuses interesting enough to contribute heavily to the Urban Dictionary. I’m sure though that was the beau’s idea. Her idea would have been to charge royalty. Last I checked its still free so I guess she quit on him and never forayed into that space 😉
And then we move down onto: (clickbait hell) “You fantasize constantly about leaving your husband”
Let’s blame the media for this one too! The mirror ain’t our best friend and with Megan Fox and Channing Tatum taking over screen space, of course, the eyes do wander and wonder. I’d like to ask Jenna Dewan Tatum about Channing’s “aim and shoot” ranges vis a vis the argument of having a urinal at home so the toilet is left clean.. And Megan Fox has walked out and all on over Brian Austin Green still parading around the streets with his wedding ring on despite the D-ivorce word shining bright like Miley Cyrus at the VMA’s this year. I’m guessing he isn’t too good on following instructions as is with his species. Of course that would upset Fox who has given up believing in “Transformers”.
It really gets my goat this one: (click .. ohh you get the drift) “Your spouse finds fault with everything you say or do”
When’s the last time you’ve known a woman who gives *space* to the man in her life? Why would anyone be in a relationship if they needed *space*? The very definition of *space* leaves no room for “coupling”!
And what’s with the “I have a headache”?
How do you go through school, graduate college, work for a living with such poor communication skills that Tylenol /Panadol/Ibuprofen/<insert your name of drug or equivalent generic here> ends up making money off of ur inadequate ways of conveying a message? Often in a young family, I find the 0.1 year old more mature than the two people who have been given licenses to vote. No wonder the political climate of a country is the way it is.. Look at the kind folk who chose ’em 😉
Lastly we have the (cl…. I don’t have the energy anymore) “You find yourself sad, crying all the time, or much more than usual”
Thank God we are finally OK with men crying. I enjoy making the beau cry. I have a little of the Christian Gray spirit I guess in me but the breakdown in tears melts my cold cold heart and gives me material to blackmail him with in front of his friends. And God forbid I cry. The beau is rendered defenceless. He has no clue whether to call my mom (and get whooped), or call his mom (and get questioned about semantics), or attempt at poking the bear (moi) and dying a ghastly death.
Moral of the story – Marriage is the death of a relationship.
It should be mandatory to sign a prenup that reads a one and only lonely blanket statement. Get wedded at your own risk. All of the expensive divorces like the rumored Roshan one, the nasty ones like the Cruise one and just to keep it all real, the Rakhi Sawant-Abhishek Awasthi potboiler for good measure should be made compulsory to research and watch and read about. Notes should be taken and maintained on how to avoid similar pitfalls. Like Aniston should’ve just dialled up the crazy and had Pitt’s blood in a vial around her neck to save her from impending D-oom.
How else do you explain Vanessa Paradis and Johnny Depp surviving celebhood and sticking it together for 17 years? They evaded this marriage route entirely. Mark my words, in my lifetime they will pull a Burton and Taylor again. They have to. I am a complete romantic at heart after all. I have the faith.
Even the Indian Supreme court got out a ruling earlier this year.. People who cohabitate without officiating their union earn the same benefits post fatality of the partner.. Who are we mere minions under the law of the land to refute that? What makes the whole nine yards appealing anymore? I’m sure Modi and his name woven suits are enough to sustain the economy that weddings in our country generate 😉
Que se ra se ra is alright for the french.. But if we’ve adopted their kissing style shouldn’t we adopt their ways of relationships entirely? Isn’t it fun to read about Bruni and Sarkozy unlike Hillary & Bill?
Even in the movie Hitch, dude only shows you how to get the object of your affections. Beyond that even God couldn’t save you.
Yours in reality,
The Relationship Gourmand
Disclaimer – This article was not remunerated by Kohler for their ad on the launch of Veil. Despite that, we thank them for small mercies on a toilet seat that is in fact more intuitive than the beau.
About the author:
Pour oil into fire only to pour water into the fire. Santoshi is the igniter and the extinguisher. Womanhood, nay peoplehood is her playground, and the sinister mind, her weapon of choice. Through the flowing, dripping, oozing coloured oily liquid that was once known as ink she explores and meanders for the semi conscious mind from the shallows of the depth that is loosely termed as humanity.