Excuse Me Doctor, Is This Normal?

Some people keep a lot of junk.  From clothes that will never fit again, to old magazines, to expired ketchup…people like their useless crap.

For me it’s a little different.  This year I began to earnestly clean my closet (otherwise I’m sure I’d still have those denim jeans with the flowered prints), and magazines I hardly even read to begin with.  As for ketchup it’s a condiment I hate, but there’s one little thing that I haven’t been getting rid of:

-Emails

I have two personal email accounts, and one that I use for the most part (the other one’s reserved for stalking younger men.  What?…Hahaha…of course I’m joking silly!).  For the primary account, my inbox hasn’t been purged since 2004 (does that sound naughty?).  Before then I would always delete my emails once every couple of weeks (since the storage limit in 2003 was a ridiculous two megabytes).

But with the advent of technology and passage of time, the storage size has grown exponentially.  And so I’ve stopped deleting.  What can I say, it was an opportunity for laziness, and I took it.

Now it’s not like I sit around thinking “Hmm…what did my Ex write to me in 2005?  Let me go check”. 

Every now and then though, I’ll recall an old attachment that I think I’d lost, and I’ll do an email search to find it.

I like that.

That’s what I was doing yesterday, and that’s when I came across something a little odd…something I’d never noticed.  I was typing in a keyword search, and in doing so a person’s name came up (which was funny, since the person had nothing to do with my object of interest).  And when I mean this person’s name came up, I mean it came up a lot…a long list in fact.

But how long was it in general?  How many emails in total?

I entered the person’s name to get the answer.

253 emails.

I’ve only been corresponding with this person for ten months, so that’s almost an email a day.

That’s…a lot of emails, and I’m sure I’ve replied just as often at least.

Which is why I’m thinking something I’ve never even pondered before:  Is it normal to have 253 emails from a single friend?  253 emails from a single…”man friend”?

Hmm…fancy that.

Hmm…

Plenty Of Fish: First Pool Of Bachelors…

 So I recently shared my initial dive into “Plenty Of Fish”, and I’m glad that I did, as you all had some interesting insights.

Well now I’m back with some findings…

…First off it is definitely true that the messages are aplenty.  I find that every time I enter the site and cruise around, there are five emails waiting after only a couple of minutes.  What this means of course is sifting through a lot of crap, such as: ”Hey baby”—crap, “Can I see more pictures?”—crap, “I want to make you my everything”—crap, etc, etc, etc.

Aside from the email dirt that tends to pile up, I’m flooded with pop-up windows from dudes who want to randomly chat.  In these situations, I haven’t had any screening time, I have no idea who they are besides their nickname, but they want to talk.  How bold.  Well excuse me but I need to screen my freaks before we chat it up, so I don’t think so (I just need to find the setting that switches off the constant pop-ups, ’cause I don’t like my surfing to resemble epileptic episodes…).

So after all this dirty clean-up, I’m left with a single question: could there actually be a diamond in this poo-pile?

Well here are three bachelors from today, so you tell me.  My opinions are already somewhat formed, but if I’m being too harsh, feel free to set me straight. 

So without further delay, I give you the first round of bachelors (and yes I’m exploiting their pictures and messages, but whatever, they’re the ones who signed up to a public site dating site (haha))…

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Bachelor #1:

“Dear Friend
I could never enjoy
The simple PLEASURES of life
The way I do with you
And I just want to tell you, that
I need you always

Thank you,”

(umm….okay)

Bachelor #2:

“HEY,

WHTS HPNG, IS IT POSSIBLE THAT WE CAN BE FRIENDS

PLZ LET ME KNOW

THANKS,”

 

 

 

(does “Plenty Of Fish” have spell-check?)

Bachelor #3:

 

“What kind of things do you write? Besides e-mails, lol. I guess I should watch my spelling around you!”

 

 

 

 

 

(well I love that he knows he’s my spelling bitch, but if we date and I tell him about my blog, this post will promptly be deleted!)

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And there you have it, round one…

 

 

 

Why Arranged Marriages ROCK—The Top Ten Quotes That Swayed Me

This post is blazing right out of me, and much like diarrhea, I ain’t gonna fight it.

My name is Romi, and I am of Indian descent (not the “casino” kind, but the “elephants/saris/cab-drivers” kind).

My parents were born in India, but I popped out of mother’s vagina HERE—in beautiful syrupy Canada.  This basically means a couple of things:

#1: My parents expect me to be a nice little Indian girl, like the ones from their native tribe

#2: I’ve spent my whole life being influenced by Western culture (sometimes for better, sometimes for worse)

The most important thing I can do in life, is marry some Indian dude, with super-wicked stats (lotsa money, good family, good genes, good values).  Once this is done, I can turn into an ethnic baby-making-machine, thus fulfilling my spicy destiny.

Since my parents don’t understand/believe in dating (as they associate it with sluts/white people (…sorry) ), my future will come in the form of an arranged marriage (like this one below).

 (look how happy they seem…is that how my future will be?)

Now since I’m already 26, the clock is ticking loudly (side-note: according to “brown years”, my ovulation days will be over by age 28).

All this pressure is making me very nervous.  If anything, I’ve always considered myself to be a passionate, free, and open-minded person; so why all these restrictions?

I just don’t get the “arranged marriage” concept, or at least…I didn’t get it. 

That’s right people, the winds have finally changed, and it’s all because of THIS.  It’s a touching anecdote, where an Indian woman tells me her story, and here it is in a nutshell: she grew up in India, she was “chosen” by some rich-ass Indian/American, she married him on the 3rd meeting, she banged him (awesome), she moved to Manhattan, and she lived happily ever after.

Wow.

If that’s not enough, she left me with a bunch of inspiring quotes. 

So here they are: The Top Ten quotes on why I should get ”arranged” (complete with my enthusiastic reactions ).

(once you’ve read them, tell me what you think: Should Romi get an arranged marriage?  Should you?)

————————————————————————————————————-

Why Arranged Marriages ROCK—The Top Ten Quotes That Swayed Me

————————————————————————————————————-

#10:  There was something about his demeanor, his soft, lilting voice, and the pleasing way he interacted with my family — frankly, we all fell for him.

I am ALL about my family falling for my dude.  That’s right, “familial orgies”; complete with high tea, soft whispers, and baby oil.  Yeahhhh…..

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#9:  One week later, his mother called my mother, and by the end of the phone call, we were engaged.

You mean…we can get our moms to propose for us? That is SUCH a weight off my shoulders; seriously, I am NOT very good at talking to dudes directly; thanks mom!

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#8:  Shouts and hugs were exchanged throughout the neighborhood — you’d have thought I’d won an Olympic gold medal.

I’ve always felt a void in my life, saying to myself: “I think I’m happy in my life, but am I making my neighbours happy too? What do they want?”  Well now I know how to make their dreams come true; Olympic medals all around!

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#7:  On my wedding night, a sense of calm finally washed over me, as I made my leap from bride to wife (armed with the Kama Sutra, which my cousins had downloaded onto my PDA as a gift).

I have always been nervous about having “relations”, but if marrying a dude of my parents’ choice means a downloaded copy of the “Kama Sutra”, I say “YES”!  A thousand times yes!

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#6:  I eyed his walk-in closet, courageously moving his suits into a smaller armoire. Judging from what remained, I had married an avid golfer, skier, and board-game player.

I like surprises, and nothing would surprise me more than finding out my husband’s hobbies AFTER we get married.  Five points for mystery!

——————————————————————————————————–

#5:  My husband bought me fashionable, sometimes sexy clothes, and we tested each others’ boundaries.

I have never worn sexy clothes before; I’m excited for my husband to buy me some.

——————————————————————————————————–

#4:  It was just like dating, only we were already married.

Why didn’t I realize this before?  It’s all the joys of dating, but you never have to go into “why won’t he call me?”-mode, ’cause you’ll already have him ”locked-in-for-life”.  Sucka!

——————————————————————————————————–

#3:  Slowly, I was getting to know my husband, even starting to fall in love with him.

WHAT!??!?! Does this chick mean to tell me I can “fall in LOVE” with my arranged marriage!?!?!?  Do you know what that means for a hopeless romantic like me???  WOW, arranged marriage = “You’ve Got Mail”…I am SOOO friggin’ excited

——————————————————————————————————–

#2:  Although my husband doesn’t always agree with his opinionated and selectively liberated wife, he openly expresses his love

I’ve only ever been interested in being “selectively” liberated (all of you already know this); so if I can be THAT, and still find a man who expresses his love, then colour me ecstatic!

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#1:  I discovered that having an arranged marriage was a great icebreaker, and my social circle mushroomed each time I retold my story.

Okay, THAT right THERE puts it over the top.  Honest to goodness, nothing means more to me than expanding my circle of friends, so if I can attract the masses by telling the world how I “married a stranger”, then sign-me-fucking-up!

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Alright then, if you’re reading this Mom and Dad, I’m ready; now get your asses to MarriageExpress.com, and find me a frickin’ prince!!

 

Wicked MSN Article: Love in the Modern Era…FEMBOTS! :-)

It seems like only yesterday, when I was hating men, feeling maternal, and scouting the list of sperm banks. 

“Give me 20 babies!” I cried, as I stared down coldly at my hibernating uterus.

Indeed, all I cared about was raising children and making sandwiches.

Well now it’s a brand new day, and guess what: I like boys again. 

I want to be in love please, but how do I make that happen?

I mean really, how do you woo a man in 2007? 

Is it as simple as: a hint of rouge here, a stuffed-bra there, and a trail of mom’s perfume, charting a course up my inner thigh?

By the way, those killer moves I just mentioned? That used to be my “triple-assault”, back in the 1990′s…I mean boyyyy did it score me some dong…

But hey, times have changed; I’m not 15 anymore. 

That’s right, I’m living in a brave new world, and after years of focusing on work, making “casseroles-for-one”, and reading classy periodicals, I ask myself: How do I get back in the game?

Well it’s a little scary to jump right into the mix, when you’re rockin’ dish-pan hands and a saggy ass. 

So with that in mind, I decided to do some research.

As I began this quest of mine, I was only in search of modern advice; something that would speak to “today’s woman”.  That said, my natural resource was Google.  After combing through an endless amount of superficial ”tip” lists (surely put together by street-corner hacks), I found what I was looking for.  It was…the mass merchant of life-advice…it was…MSN, with yet another wicked article :-) .

As much as I trust my Wicked MSN/Yahoo! life-advice, I was a little surprised by the title: Fembots: The New Breed of Woman. 

Huh? 

So basically, MSN was sayin’ that I should be a robot? Was it sayin’ that I needed steely eyes, and machine-gun boobs?  Did MSN want me to shut down my emotional cylinders, and play it” icy cool”?

This stood against everything I’d learned in 26 years of life; how could it be?

I mean really, I am the girl who will prance around my target in frilly skirts, whilst giggling flirtatiously, and never saying no.  I am the girl who will bake you cookies and ask about your day, and then feel sad if you don’t ask me about mine .  I am the girl who will pretend to like everything you like (up to and including the NFL, bass-fishing, and (ugh) golf), just so you’ll like me more.  I AM THE GIRL who will ask you to tell me the top 50 reasons why you think we’re “soul-mates”…yeah…I’m that girl…

At least I was “that girl”, ’cause according to the article, I had it all wrong!

Hmm…this MSN article seemed pretty damn confusing…but then I actually read it…

MY GOD did I learn a lot. 

Go on then reader, take my man-hand and clasp it in yours; let’s go on this journey together….

THE “HOWS” AND “WHYS” OF BEING A FEM-BOT (see article)

To kick things off:

-Celebrities are supporting “Fem-bot-ism”, so you should too.

 Examples:

-Sandra Oh’s character in Grey’s Anatomy:  This icy cold doctor doesn’t like hugging, but she LOVES her vibrator.

-Angelina Jolie: she sees no benefit in crying.

-Brooke Shields: she needs to get away from her kids pretty often, ’cause she doesn’t really like them.

Conclusions: Get a vibrator, don’t hug ANYONE, laugh at funerals, and if the topic of kids comes up, tell the guy you’d like some, but only on Mondays and Thursdays.

-Don’t Commit, Like Ever

-Once you’ve played it aloof for a good long while, the dude will start nesting (ugh).  Any time he mentions marriage, resist the urge to break out your “wedding scrapbook”.  In fact, burn the wedding scrapbook.  Instead, tell him that it’s “good for now”, but that you may feel differently later.

-This will freak the CRAP out of him.

-Result: He’ll probably buy you a car, and give you lots of massages.

-Good.

-Keep this up for 5-10 years…or forever.

-Important thing to note: as more time passes, you WILL get older, which means you’ll turn ugly and fat.  As this slowly starts to happen, the whole “I might leave you tomorrow, I might not” attitude won’t be as effective…“maybe I should leave HER”, he’ll wonder. 

-To stop this catastrophe dead in its tracks, get plastic surgery…early.

-It may sound extreme, but think about it: you take 10 years off your age…you add 10 years to your big strong “pimp hand”.  That’s pretty much the best equation ever, so don’t even bother fighting it.

-Shower your mate with de-grading comments

-One of the best ways to reel a guy in and keep him there, is to make him feel bad about himself.

-If he wants to cuddle, tell him to “lose the skirt” (direct quote from the article).

-If he says you look pretty in that dress, tell him that this ain’t the E! network, and that you don’t need his “Fashion 411″.  Also, tell him to stop acting like a gay fashion designer.

-If he suggests going to ANY kind of movie that isn’t a hardcore action flick (full of guns or bombs or knife-fights), call him a pussy.

-End Result:  your “man” will start to feel more and more inadequate, which will make him a lot more susceptible to “personality control”.  Muahahaha, you’re almost there…

-Get Rid of Lots of Friends

-This may seem a little un-necessary, but think about it: the more “life-long” friends you keep in the fold, the liklier you’ll be to go “soft”, via hugs, shared chocolate, and Sandra Bullock Film Fests.

-So ditch your friends please, one by one by one….

-Turn into the Terminator II Villain

-You might not have seen this in the article, but believe me, it’s in between the lines…

-Okay, so the last thing you have to do, is become like that robot-villain in Terminator II: Judgment Day

-He’s THIS guy:

-This terminator villain has a stand-out, super-cool feature:  he can meld with metal, walls, floors and other stuff.

-This is how it looks:

-Pretty cool huh?

-Here’s the best part about this all-important tactic: when your dude’s all alone at his place, watching TV, or showering, or on the toilet, do a “through the floor” pop-in!   It will scare him soooo much, and not because it’s scary that you’re walking through floors, but because it’s scary to know that you’ll catch him in the act, should he ever opt for a whore.

 -And by the way, I can’t really tell you how to do this “walking-through-floors” thing, ’cause it’s kinda like a super-power.  You either have it…or you don’t.  Good luck!

Wow, I feel so enlightened from that MSN column.  Seriously, I had NO idea that I could find and CAPTURE a man, simply by making him feel like a girl!

I wish I had known this when I was 15 (not that I didn’t enjoy myself…)

Alright then, time to flip the ol’ robot “bitch-switch”….time to score me some dong!

Wicked Yahoo! Article: “What’s Your Love Stage?”

So guess what, the ”Wicked Yahoo!/MSN articles” just keep piling up!  There are so many gems to consider! That said, I want my next installment to be saucy…

SO…without further delay…”LOVE” anyone?

Okay, so the love experts at Yahoo! teamed up with Tango Magazine (wtf is “Tango Magazine?”), in the quest to give us women some insight.  For centuries, we’ve been lacking information on the following: A—what our love stage is and B—what that says about who we are.  Well thanks to Yahoo! and Tango, we now have the answers  (see article).

As I read the article myself, I sunk into a state of analysis, and here’s what I learned:

There are 7 stages of love; no more, no less. 

I never knew that before, but okay…fine.

Here’s what the love stages are, and here’s what they mean (you could read the article yourself, but my take will help you decipher these complex stages, as described by the Yahoo!/Tango brain trust—damn them and all their scientific terms!):

 1. Free Agent

-Stage: You’re not getting laid,  you’re not looking to get laid, and if you don’t get laid soon, you’ll probably switch to a career in construction (closely followed by a crush on Paula Poundstone).

 -What this means: you like money, you like to work, you don’t give a crap about getting NAILED, and you’re perfectly free to look as ugly as you like, ’cause no one wants to nail you either.

2. The Connector

-Stage: You’re single.  Like the free agent, you haven’t been laid in ages, but at least you’re on the hunt.

-What this means: your every action in life is focused on whoring yourself out: new shoes, online dating memberships, constant phone-calls to friends—whatever attention you can get, you’ll take.  The longer you spend in this stage, the more likely you’ll end up depressed…then you’ll eat yourself into a coma…at this point, you’ll be a fat person in a coma (thus ruining any chance of getting laid).

3. The Seeker

-Stage: You’re dating some people, some times, but no one in particular.

-What this means: YOU ARE A WHORE.

4. The Entertainer

-Stage: You’re dating someone exclusively now, and this time it’s for keeps! (as long as you don’t ruin it by becoming annoying and/or jealous and/or super-fat)

-What this means: Because you’re part of a couple, you’re spending more money on entertaining “couple-y” stuff, like movies, dinners, concerts etc. (ALERT: you have just read the MOST ground-breaking “thing I never knew and couldn’t figure out for myself” line from the article).  Also, you’re getting comfy.  This is the nice way of saying that you’re getting fat.  In order to let yourself go and STILL feel secure, you’re starting to push for ”the ring” …you fat manipulative whore…

5. The Tween

-Stage: Oh SHIT, you just broke-up…OR you just got dumped (no, you definitely got dumped!)

-What this means: You’re sad, you’re pathetic, and you’re wondering what you did wrong (answer? lots of stuff dummy! ).  Because you’re so damaged, you’ll spend all your time hunting for social contact on the Net…ANY social contact. You may or may not get involved with unsavoury characters who: A—will lie about their age; B—will lie about their level of hotness; C—will set-up a late-night meeting at a truck-stop; and D—will kill you, stuff you, and turn you into a marionette-girlfriend.  Good luck.

6. The Nester

-Stage: You did it; you backed that turd into a corner, and he finally got you a rock, ’cause you’re engaged!

-What this means: You and the turd have joined-up your bank accounts (this will certainly be a future source of verbal abuse/physical battery).  Now that you’re engaged, you’ve probably moved in together, so you’re starting to buy lots of stuff for your home (ALERT: you have just read the 2nd-MOST ground-breaking “thing I never knew and couldn’t figure out for myself” line from the article).   Oh, and apparently you use a lot of photo-sharing sites, ’cause I guess you love to show your friends your obnoxious “couple pics” (chances are that you photo-shop the SHIT out of ‘em, ’cause you’re probably a fatty, no?)

7. The Nouveau Wife (“Nouveau”, eh? Hmm…on an unrelated side-note, I’m gonna start randomly replacing English words with French ones, to enhance my worldly status)

-Stage: You took the plunge, and now you’re married.

-What this means: vacations, fancy dinners, good job, and a home full of love; in short, it doesn’t get much better than this! Of course, if it doesn’t get much better than this, it only gets worse…you’ll both get fatter, you’ll both get bored, and you’ll both start to curse the day that the other was born…and how will you stop this from spiralling out of control?

You’ll get knocked up of course . 

Yup, you’ll have a couple of kids, and while those pooping-demons won’t know it, they’ll be the glue that keeps the marriage together…for a few years at least…after that, the kids won’t be cute anymore, and they’ll always want money and stuff.   Tensions will be high, and you’ll probably get divorced.  This will put you back in love-stage 5. 

And where will you go from there?  Well geeee…I don’t know, but isn’t that the excitement of the “7 stages of love”?

Good luck and stuff.

P.S. Hmm…can you guess what stage I’m in?