It is very possible that after the public revelation of this article I would be ambushed by a frightening group of women in their mid-thirties, possessing mediocre grooming habits, and lethargic husbands: a group that calls itself the Feminist Mafia. But, I dont care. Its more important to me that the truth is divulged; the truth that has been kept a secret for centuries by generations of trained fighters known as WO-Men (Warriors Obliterating Men); the truth which, when revealed, would change the course of life as we know it today; the truth that men's lives are so much worse than women's lives.
Boyhood is not just about being stupid and breaking stuff. It also involves the very traumatic experience of trying to negotiate with the baggage of gender guilt thats thrust upon you by the women around you. The thrusting of the gender guilt, at such an early age, is, of course, the primary psychological weapon in the artillery of the Warriors Obliterating Men. Mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sisters-they all seem to mutter the same guilt-inducing line when faced with any problem: Oh, why should you bother? Youre a male. Were the ones who have to endure it. Its not so much the words as its the tone of their voice that fills you, the little boy, with a gnawing feeling of culpability. There starts the journey of the demoralized man whos forcibly made a part of a generalization that he doesnt care much about.
However, the contrast between the truth and the generalization is as stark as the difference between a car and a car salesman. Men do not have better lives than women just because women say we do. One example that all women cite is the mans gift to pee standing up. Let me tell you something, its not all that its hyped up to be. In fact, it could be downright harrowing on certain occasions. Men do not enjoy the privacy of a separate stall when they go to a public restroom like women do. All we get are half a dozen contraptions mounted on the wall that to someone with a reasonably active imagination would look like the beaks of really large pelicans. But the really disturbing part lies in how close the half a dozen pelican beaks are to each other. And the only thing that separates you and the peer next to you is a thin rectangular partition thats nowhere near as tall as it should be. Can you imagine the trauma of having to pray for a guy who's shorter than you pee next to you every time you visit the restroom to relieve yourself? We'd much rather spend a few extra seconds pulling down our pants than having to be on surveillance mode every time nature calls. But, of course, women will never understand because they re the ones who have to endure it.
Another bane of being a woman, they say, is having to deal with that time of the month which makes her cranky, emotional, and depressed. Well, let me inform you women that we men undergo similar phases as well, but on a level way more intense than you could fathom. A woman couldnt possibly comprehend how cranky, vulnerable, and suicidal a man can get for a stretch of time as long as even a year whenever the Indian Cricket Team goes and makes a mess of a match that they should have won blindfolded. Forget the monthly mess, ladies, this one bugs us every minute of every hour of every day we live. Therefore, women have their womens problems and we guys have the Indian Cricket Team. You tell me which is worse.
What Ive revealed so far is merely the tip of the iceberg. Although, I feel its safe to assume that men all over the world are wising up to the real truth. Never again should we drop our heads in shame and walk away tongue-tied when a woman tells us that we have it good. We should stand up and bravely put ourselves down. Dont let any woman tell you that youre happier than them; stand your ground and prove to them that youre more depressed than Vincent Van Goghs optician. And if they corner you and pull out their trump card- the labor pain card- smile back confidently at them, take your cap off and show them the huge bald spot thats staring back with a vengeance.