The irony soup

Irony can be a cruel thing, and a little twisted, too. Like Alfred's vacation album that he showed me so proudly when I spotted him sitting all by himself in the food court. It was a trip to Thailand, and Alfred being a photography buff had loads and loads of pictures of Bangkok, Phuket, Koh Samui, Phi Phi island and Maya Bay. One look at those pictures, and I regretted that my summer travel plans this year didn't have a Thai flavour.

But that's not what made me think of irony. It was something else. It was that look of pride on his face when he showed me pictures of his Thai mistress or, to be precise, his vacation squeeze. Under normal circumstances, pictures of my friends' girlfriends don't really bother me, but Alfred happens to be a married man, and supposedly, a happily married man. Or, at least, that's what he says. Hence, the pictures and the flaunting of them just seemed to border on poor taste, that's all.

Now I don't know whether or not it was my conservative side acting up, or some other forces were at work here. But I couldn't help laugh at the irony of the whole thing. On one hand, there was Alfred, a guilt-free married man proud to have a new mistress every vacation, and on the other side, there was yours truly, single out of choice because of this conviction that marriage is sacred and involves a life-long commitment to only one person.

The troubling factor is, it's people like Alfred that end up defining how men are, and go about wreaking countless women's hearts without even a slight degree of concern. It's the Alfreds of the world who live under the assumption that their machismo is measured either by the number of women they've bonked or the number of women's hearts they've won and then broken. It's a cruel game they play, and it's left to the other type of men to pick up the shattered fragments of broken hearts and look for ways to heal them.

Sometimes it's a little too late because the damage has already been done, and some women find it hard to trust again or to believe they are capable of being loved. It seems like a cruel piece of irony that the wrong types of men end up becoming the definition, while the rest of us who want to love and respect and care have to try just harder... just seems a little crazy, don't you think?


It is possibly the smae phenomenon that makees the wrogn type of women, the gold diggers, the weaklings the clingers, ... who define women.

i suppose it is because bad experiences like sadnesses tend to linger and so, following the analogy, so do the wrong type of people....
Pragya said…
The irony is indeed ironical :)
junoesque said…
its physiological my dear ashish.
the poor men cant help themselves. and i mean it seriously.
not that it excuses their behaviour.
and you must be about the eighth wonder of the world...

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