Decoding Men who live in the Loo!

Okay firstly an honest confession, more like a life-long pang of conscience being publically posted- I’ve not had many men in my life, sob, sob, sniff, sniff arre not that Lady Dracula waala had-had but woh ‘for all their sweetness’ waala had. But then I have known men-God’s grace, because many of us females live around men all our lives and still grumble-Who can understand these men?

If we really know a man, we would also know that he is somehow very strongly connected to the washroom, to such an extent that we find ourselves always looking for a hidden bathroom-umbilical cord tugging at him into that stupid shell. Can thou, god’s-gift-to-women, please spend lesser time in this heavenly abode of thine and cut the frequency before we seriously doubt at what’s happening in there? Of course we make our super ‘wild’ guesses but your activities within surpass even our wildest imagination. Yes, someday I would actually put a hidden camera inside to monitor-what you are doing in there baba, not how you are doing it...or rather ‘how’...whatever! Chi, chi!

Based on a harmless, little, personal observation and hyper imaginative post-mortem of loo goers from obviously beyond the closed doors, I stumbled upon peculiar traits and hence my pure joy at getting the chance to classify them. So next time you spot a guy, you can assess him in your mind instead of other tiresome and sometimes frustrating options like mentally stripping. Men do have breeds proven, but that for some other day...

THE GREAT THINKER

This one is a class apart-usually well dressed in social life and boisterous to the hilt. No party gets complete without his well chosen gems of witty remarks. And where does he get them from-no prizes for guessing, they all roll up to him on the pot...cuddle and cajole and create little ripples-in his mind of course.

If my hidden camera idea materialises you would probably spot him staring at the wall with his pants down, surely not admiring the tiles or noticing that spider web which never escapes the discerning female eye. He’d be lost in deliberation, wondering and pondering, analysing and creating strategies and with a few releases down from the body an almost orgasmic discharge of new ideas gets unconfined in his mental capability or saved as draft on his mobile for eruption at a suitable juncture.

 

Never mind how valid or significant are those ideas to the world, even his world for that matter. So please don’t disturb this thinker at this supremely serviceable task if you want to see women-kind happy and giggling; for his whole fabric would get jarred if he didn’t spend that hour there, even if his bowels had gushed out all he had....

THE HOPELESS ESCAPIST

Everyone craves for an escape route in life. This breed delves into the loo every time you push the envelope towards him with a bit too much force-

Let’s poetically ode-fy them:

                 “Wife’s nagging or siblings bragging-

                 Market dragging or boss balls grabbing...

                 Better option-In the loo s___ing!”

             Peace and bliss like nowhere else-I’m just guessing this, no first-hand experience there.

This guy seeks comfort in this private space much like the cope-bhavans of the ancient queens-when they would be angry about something they would go into this cope-bhavan for all to know and for the king to come begging on his knees in fear of being refused the nightly bedroom adventures. Imagine all the guards gloating when Your Highness would step her dainty feet out of the bhavan with an evil accomplished grin, that would make them mutter, ‘Damn, the son of a gun, would get lucky tonight!’

Okay back to the escapist guy-in this private zone he is the master, in control-for whenever he wants he can go pants up or down, flush for all he cares, strut the length of the loo like a commander-in-charge. Who knows he may be narrating his dukh bhari dastaan to the taps and the pot or crying in the shower like filmi heroines. Just for a while, he’s in control. So let’s not take away his peace either. Hey you, continue!

THE ADVENTURER

Oh, this one is interesting. He’s basically a risk taker in life...who has never taken any risks. So here he peers into and ransacks stuff even if he’s seen them umpteenth times- like wife’s lingerie, feels much better when she’s not in it, so as to not remind him that hers was the face he was screwing last night and not Katrina’s or the next door hot neighbour’s whose rack refuses to stay in the shack.

Or he may be a house guest checking out drawers and shelves often trying on whatever he suitably can till an allergy breaks out on his face or he ends up tearing a g-string. Tch, tch, adventure without a safety belt or a security leash can be fatal for the health of skimpy clothes and skimpier imagination. Who knows maybe on a very vella day there might even be cross-dressing! But then such specimens out in the open, without getting to satiate such curious thirsts tantamount to a catastrophe! So we have no other alternative but to let him also be!

THE PERFORMER

This one my dearies is basically an artist...who got so modern with his art that the world just couldn’t fathom him! He’s the one who would pick up the shower pipe and sing like Elvis or break into a jive with lather running down his scrubby hair like Kareena smiling and rubbing herself in that soap ad my god woman, if I look around at my body and smile so much while bathing, perhaps even my body would get really wary of my intentions. He emotes before the mirror, often in a deep conversation like in a role play. He wraps his thingy in a flimsy towel, tempting for a peek to an imaginary angel who with a gaping mouth has her every pore lusting for him. Yes, I assume Sanjay Leela Bhansali was something of this and thereby made Ranbir do that towel stint in a long forgotten Bollywood flick.

His every move inside would be suave and sexy exuberating confidence on cloud nine-he plays hide and seek with the shower curtain, hugs himself in the mirror, fondles the soap and what not till an uncharitable knock at the door breaks his trance and he rushes back to score what he came in originally for. Such skills are hard to come by and not for him but for the mercy of us all who may be dragged unceremoniously to view this tragedy, we let you go too.

And for the rest, let’s not shock the world with my terms for them and cause mini heart attacks with descriptions to boot-

The Playboy Echo,

The I-just-lost-my-bowels-to-the-pot fella,

The Bombardment-er,

The Mobile Porn Stacker,

The Sleepy-on-pot Douche,

The Hush Women’s Magazine Man and so on...

So guys, I guess it’s in the best interest of everyone that you shorten what you seem to be excelling in, while ruling the kingdom of your loo or else watch us look at you with a hereby new-found eye. However, for small mercies, please do keep that toilet seat down and just clear up the ragged remains after the battles have been lost or won.

P.S. Saw something hilarious outside the washroom of a government office yesterday, where they write ‘Mahilayen’ to indicate ‘for females’; some smart ass scratched off the ‘ma’ to make it ‘hilayen’...LOL! Oh my good god!