My one baby step, maybe a giant step for womankind?

I have always been a radical one. A revolutionary is my own way. Rebellious by my very nature. Not taking things as they come, but hunting, pursuing, persuading to get things my way. With school, with work, with even love, I have thwarted all norms and done what I have wanted. The way I have wanted it. Actually, especially in love. I have never been the kind to wait around for a man to make the move. If I liked him, I would make it obvious. Make sure he knew. Subtle hints, fleeting touches, leading smiles. Any guy with half a brain would catch on. Most have, thinking this would be a purely physical thing. And then after we have lusted enough, invariably, we have loved. Not the perfect start to a relationship but it’s a start. Yes, its immodest but I can mostly certainly claim the men fell in love with me after. And me with them.

And the rocky at first but crazy fun later has been a pattern with each relationship. Then, some have fallen out of love with me and at other times, I thought it wasn’t meant to be. But it’s when I have been a little reluctant to give in, a little unwilling to commit, a little wary of the man, that he’s pursued me relentlessly. He has worked harder to make it work. Way harder to keep me happy. When he’s given his soul to make the relationship his priority. To put it in a candy floss adjective, my relationships have worked best when I have been treated like a princess.

A lot of them have fizzled out for various reasons. Distance, falling out of love, or even plain boredom. But the most treasured ones have fallen apart when I fell completely in love. When I wanted him more than he wanted me. When I have wanted it to work so bad, I pushed the limits of my patience and took a lot of shit from him. Let him behave badly and let him get away with it. Let my ego, pride and my esteem hurt. Then, when my last relationship ended, it dawned on me. It was never going to work. Not this way, anyway.

I was fighting with nature. And while protesting and digging my heels in the ground worked for all things man made, nature just simply waited till I struggled, went limp with exhaustion, picked me up like a fly and firmly but surely put me back in place. I was told (atleast it felt like telling) in no uncertain terms that this would not work. Not with relationships.

Nature intended for the men to chase, to be competitive and to work to get a goal. Nature also intended for the women to be perched high on a pedestal and look down at her man, but to never help him climb up, not hurt his ego like that. And if he liked her enough, there isn’t a man on this planet who would not work down to his bone to claim his fair maiden. And no matter how hard and how fast we march ahead, I think these roles were not meant to be messed with. We women could burn bras and fight for literacy and against infanticide and we should, but no matter how many revolutions we inspire, we will come home and wonder if he will call. We could bravely venture into territories no woman has gone before, but we still stare at the mirror hoping he will like what he sees.

We are awesome, mind you and I am not saying otherwise. And I am not also regressing and saying people should be confined to gender specific roles. No, that would be archaic on my part. I still think we should do, wear, read and talk about what makes us happy and confident. We should rush past glass ceilings, demand to be paid equally and redefine boundaries in the workplace and life. But in a relationship, men should take the lead. Here, we women should stop thinking like the 21st woman of today and go back to being the fragile flower men have to take care of. And fragile flower does not mean that we change ourselves to being whimpering lasses. It means we revel in our roles as women and let the men do all the work. We will still talk politics, business and news, but we will not pursue him for a relationship. We will keep him excited about meeting us but will not drop everything the minute he calls to make a vague plan. That we will know he’s a booty call and not get all emotional about sleeping with him. In other words, we will be in charge, only we will pretend he is.

I think, it works better that way. Everyone is happier.

A lot of you may think I am being sexist and stupid at the same time. Maybe even jaded. And you maybe itching to throw something at me. You may. This is me thinking out loud. Maybe I did get this all wrong. But you have to admit, there is an iota of possibility that I am right.