Conflict is a beautiful thaannggg

Conflict, it’s a beautiful thing. I used to disagree when I first heard that “humanity strives on struggle”, I never agreed with it, and then I learned different. Humanity strives on drama and needless frustrations because we are species with vast intellect (I don’t care how smart dolphins are, lets see if they can invent the internet or burritos) with no known purpose. We are a species with capabilities of great feats but with no exact course of life charted out for us, a species with highly inquisitive mind which must solve every question it faces…no matter how ridiculous the answers maybe. The human mind needs answers, so badly that it’ll create its own questions and dilemmas to solve them. Conflict really is a beautiful thing. In the age of emasculated intrinsic tendencies of human’s, as a species, we need conflict to entertain us…and no where is this more prevalent then in the little limbo of despair we call; relationships.


Anyone who has ever dated will tell you how confusing the other gender is. This in fact, is not true. Complexity arises from expectations and it is further raised by the shattering of those expectations when one realizes that, unlike they thought to be, not everyone agrees with them…even when their solution, idea, opinion, or belief seems to be far superior and perfectly logical. That’s what happened to me. Now, I thought, that dating should be a fairly simple process…that when women say they want a guy who is “nice, caring, sweet, humorous, intelligent, and sensitive” they meant it, funny how that turns out to be a total lie. So why wouldn’t women want such a dream guy? Well, I found out through terrible experiences that dream guys have one big problem, one main flaw in them; no conflict. A dream guy is perfect, understands you, cares about you, listens to you, nurtures you…this, ultimately scares women because to have someone completely understand you leaves you open, leaves you wide open, to try be better human being than you thought you were. If the most perfect guy listened to everything a woman had to say then there is a chance that woman will run out of things to say, that she’ll slowly start to realize her shortcomings as an intellectual being. Women do not want Mr. fantastic or Mr. right because rather than having a man figure them out, women would rather fight over the fact that a man doesn’t try to figure them out…that, the “pig” only cares about himself.


That “pig” gives the women the sweet gift of drama. So how many women did I have to go through to figure it out, to have one finally admit to this youthful indiscretion, woefully, too many women suffer from? My count is currently at 6-7.


I spent infinite time, patience, money, and attention towards this young lady, who I found to be an utter marvel. She was completely different that any woman I had ever met, even for her age. I did not get anywhere with her, even though, she supposedly respected me more than any other man in her life…so why wasn’t I her guy? “There was nothing wrong with me”…her words, I swear. I did not provide her a challenge… I wasn’t a “bad-boy” with a troubled past, nor was I a needy man who tried to hide his attention for need. I did not present conflict in the form which she oh-so-desired.


I see no need for conflict, or complexity in human relationships but despite my own preferences I seem to have it in every relationship I get into. Can’t help it, can’t avoid it. I am not good with conflict…I run from it and avoid it, even when I may have possibly started it. I am, now, a far better person than I was a few years back. As teenager I was a totally new to the concept of conflict…I basically avoided humanity as best as I could because every time I tried to get my feet wet in the pool of socialization I ended up drowning real fast. The suffocation of anxiety never settled well with me. But now, in college, far wiser (supposedly) I am not so tenacious against socialization, I, sometimes, revel in it but still…I only go so far before the past experiences of conflict pull me right back out. So that’s why I spent infinite patience with this young lady only to have my logical ways of dealing with people slapped back in my face.

I find humanity to be so bored of its unknown and carefree existence that not only did it invent religion and god to try to rid itself of it’s infinite ennu,i but it went one step further and focused on love and how many ways it could mess with it. Not all hope is lost though, and not all women turn to be such irreverent beings. In fact experience speaks resoundingly against such illogical behavior as women get older…as for men…well, we never change do we. Oscar Wilde once said that “two greatest tragedies in life; getting what you want and not getting it”….


Oscar Wilde was brilliant.

Anger is a gift

Emotions, as a man, I am not suppose to have them…or so says my culture. While I never really, completely, prescribed to that notion, my father did. Actually, scratch that. Men can have one emotion; anger, they can display it as frequently and as intensely as they want. In fact, the more, the better and that’s what my father is use to. Growing up in India, a boy is suppose to grasp the concept of being a man rather quickly. Talking about our feelings or discussing what bothers is a laughable concept reserved only for women…come to think of it, this view of emotions is not only prevalent in India but in every society, even in the fairly androgynous and ever egalitarian U.S. My old man never really learned to share his feelings, he only expressed everything through his anger…I doubt that will ever change.

Actually I give the man far less credit than he deserves. He does express emotions besides anger…or probably used to. My father has always been a mystery to me. The man has gone through a lot more than what most average men do yet he never proclaims his battle over life because, sadly, enough I don’t think he has ever won. He has every right to be proud of what he has turned out to be but he has always been so busy and focused on looking after his falling sky that he I doubt he has ever cared to look back at his life and see what he has become from what he came from….he will never either, why? Because he is a man, man who doesn’t focus on such trivial things…or so says my culture.

My father’s family was never kind to him. What could he do when his enemies were his loved ones, but he strived, always for their cause, never uttering a single word of disappointment or complaints because a “man” doesn’t do that. Despite the resounding failure his own family turned out to be the man successfully raised a family of his own under dire circumstances. He worked off a hundred men’s load and he never uttered a single grunt of despair. Why?....because he is a man, a man doesn’t do that…or so says my culture.

Now it has gotten to a point where I don’t even know whether he ever looks back at his life and wonders what went wrong and just feel the melancholy even the hardest of men would feel. I wonder if he just sits by himself sometimes and let him self be proud of what has done. I wonder if he knows that his son would be completely content if he turned to be half the man he is. I would never really know because he never talks about himself in that way, though he sure will tell you which politician or a moron on the road pisses him off. Anger is a gift for him…I find that anger is a gift for every man who can’t be dared labeled a “sissy” for expressing how he really feels. Anger is one emotion, through which, my father, like the millions of men before him, can express his frustrations, passion and opinions…all without compromising his masculinity and machismo. He will probably feel the same things a woman feel but unlike my mother he will never open his mouth…why? Because he is a man…or so says my culture.