My endless girl drama

When a woman says ‘We need to talk’ even if you are as clean as the Pope, start thinking about where you went wrong and work on your defence immediately. In fact, when she says we need to talk, what she really means is “you need to listen.” If it’s your lucky day, you will get off with only maybe a mile-long lecture. This phrase, though our reaction remains hidden, causes immediate tension and we brace ourselves for the worst. Although men are wired to be shock absorbers, there are some phrases that have the ability to send any man into an epileptic seizure. Many men go stone cold when certain words are spoken. Moreover, some women have mastered the art of using phrases that can easily stop a man’s heart from beating or simply demolish and deflate his larger-than-life ego in seconds.Many women use these phrases thinking men do not understand them but we do. They choose to unleash their wrath or emotions at the worst possible time more so! Men do not forget this by the way, we remember this remark until the day we join our ancestors.A friend of mine called Kate once lashed out at her fiancée and crushed the poor man’s ego by telling him he had issues with size (where it matters). The guy took it personal (as any guy would), and he has never recovered from that inferiority complex. I couldn’t believe she said that. Poor guy looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it is rude to tell a guy he doesn’t measure up? Guys are very touchy about their zone-size,” I told her. “The next time you want to say something about a gentleman’s member, keep it to yourself if it is that negative!”Having been dumped a couple of months ago, I thought I was in a safe district; at least I did not expect the usual ‘who is that girl you were talking to’ or the heart-stopping ‘honey, I’m pregnant,’ phrases.However, last Sunday was a huge blow for me as I narrowly survived a mega cardiac arrest. A 13-year-old boy called me dad! “What do you mean dad, who are you?” I appallingly inquired. “Well, my mum told me you are my father, that you and her kind of …you know.” The little silly boy made several gestures while creasing his funny little face as if he was explaining a simple formula to a retarded fellow. He did not seem at all bothered by the information he was giving me. In fact, I could have sworn he was enjoying every bit of it. “I don’t think I understand what you mean, little buddy,” I responded extremely anxious. “Who is your mother; what did she tell you?” I began to stutter. And then, I saw her.