Want To Be His Real Woman?- Femina

This ready reckoner by Sheila Kumar MUST be read with a pinch of the old salt; the Real Joke is on the men, of course. There was a book called ‘Real Men. Don’t Eat Quiche’ back in the ‘90s. It told you all about the Real Man, what he looked like, what he ate...but it didn’t tell you what he wanted in a Real Woman. Which is why we are having a go at that! Is this your man?

He Doesn’t Want Much...
He just wants a woman with a face like Ash’s, a body like Bips’ and deep dimples like Preity’s. You have two options. Get yourself to a plastic surgeon. Or, point out that Ash has a Vivek Oberoi, Bips has either a John Abraham or a Dino Morea, and Preity is likely to get cellulite with time.
He just wants a woman who can cook like a female Sanjeev Kapoor, a woman who will serve him culinary extravaganzas every single day. You can either enrol in the nearest neighbour-hood cooking class or hire a former five-star chef who will do a Houdini and hide every time your man enters the kitchen — which, if he is a Real Man, will be almost never.
He just wants a woman who has the IQ of an ant, who will simper at all his grave pronouncements and look adoringly at him the way Nancy Reagan looked at Ron and the way Hillary didn’t look at Bill. So okay, just hide your degree in aeronautical engineering in your lingerie drawer, practise a range of titters and tinkling laughs, and learn to blank out every time you need to look at him that way. Practice will make it all easier.
He just wants you to have a career, oh yes, but not one that will relegate him and the home to second place. This one’s easy. You’ve been Superwoman for so long, you can easily attend the board meeting, then dash across town to be the hostess at the cocktail party your man has thrown to celebrate his winning the golf cup. (You did win the Women’s Trophy, but who’s asking!).
He just wants you to have a lingerie stock full of Frederick’s of Hollywood undies, some leather items and some stuff you think only a dominatrix would wear. Ah well, all you need is to cultivate a taste for blood-red panties and metal bras. Just kidding. Keep your granny undies and sensible slips in a separate cupboard and don’t wear them when he’s around.
He just wants you to maintain that body we talked about (Bipasha Basu, remember?) while joining him in a third helping of goose liver paté, with some sinful dessert to follow. Don’t eat like a bird, he says, irritated. Well okay, eat well, then go get yourself a personal trainer. If he wants you to maintain your body, do it with his money.
He just wants you to turn a blind eye. All the time. When he burps loud and long, scratches himself, refuses to trim his toenails or use a deo regularly. So, what do you do? Turn a blind eye, of course... to him. Look at other men, instead.
He just wants absolutely no criticism or objective appraisals of anything. So, nada with the analysis of how he could have got that raise, of how his PR is all wrong. Yours not to question why. Yours only to do, and move up that career ladder... yours, we mean.
He just wants you to be demure at the dinner table, daring in bed, bold at times, vulnerable at others, shy sometimes, sparkling sometimes. He wants you to catch every male eye when he walks into a room with you on his arm. At the same time, he will kill you (yes, you!) if any man makes a move. What do you do? You could adopt a split personality that seesaws between Sassy Sue and Bashful Bhavna. Or you could be yourself. You decide.
He just wants you never to compare him to your father. It’s not that you’re Daddy’s girl; it’s just that you can’t help it if your father is quite easily the world’s most intelli-gent, most charming, most wonderful man. Your options? You can either never mention your father. Or smile so meaningfully your man reads what’s on your mind...
He just never wants you to have a male friend. Ever. So, fine, you can jettison all your friends of the opposite sex. Or better still, get them to befriend your man. And then you can all hang out together.
He just wants attention. All the time. Well, give it to him. You know and I know what he doesn’t know. That you can fix it so while he thinks you are hanging onto his every word, you’re actually replaying that office presentation in your mind, looking for ways to make it perfect. Thing is, Real Men aren’t mind readers. Thank heaven.
He just doesn’t want you to ask him to listen, about Aditi Mangaldas’ powerhouse performance, about that café which serves great salads, or to ever say ‘‘You never take me anywhere’’. You have your friends who will listen and what’s more, attend that powerhouse performance with you, share a Lean Meal fettuccine salad with you. Who said Real Men were good company anyway?
He just wants you to forget. Forget the time(s) he couldn’t hold his drink. The time he drooled over your friend Lia. The time he tried but couldn’t... er, you know what. So, develop instant amnesia. Make it blanket amnesia. It’s handy for a girl not to remember what she doesn’t want to remember.

Work The Real Deal
He doesn’t want much, this Real Men. He just wants the world and a bit on the side. So, the real question here is: Do you want to be his real woman? If the answer is what we think it is, well then, get real. Jettison the Real Man. And be a Real Woman.

You can fix it so while he thinks you are hanging onto his every word,
you’re actually replaying that office presentation in your mind. Real Men aren’t mind readers. Thank heaven!

Can you mould yourself to his mind set?