just minishorts.

Mr Hobo, the latest Dr Love in town, has conveniently classified women as a class of nit-picking, power-loving, attention-seeking brats who are mere examiners whose actual mission in relationships is setting crazy tests for their boyfriends, husbands, and lovers.

How 'apt', seeing that Valentine's Day is just around the corner, so instead of taking the topic of Love to great heights and talk about it in celebrating hues of happiness and gooey stickiness, Mr Hobo has seemingly, successfully, diminished the mystic aura of love-relationships into nothing but a 'Apply And See If You Will Pass' phase, that will never seem to end, mind you.

In particular, this singular paragraph that stuck out like a sore thumb in the midst of all his self-appreciating, over-inflated, ego-boosted insight, entitled The Test, for lack of a more creative title. But before that, I present to you, the damning evidence:

Women are like spoiled children. They are self-focused, insecure and irrational. They crave drama and games. They demand constant attention, reassurance, and above all, power in relationships. And, like children, who ceaselessly push limits to see just how much they can get away with from their parents, women relentlessly test men.

True? Not true?

In his words, Abdul Hobo also puts on display an exhibit of examples where women test the men, including the following:

* Canceling or changing plans at the last minute.
* Not returning phone calls (even though she's interested in you).
* Finding fault with your clothes, hair, car, etc. and pressuring you to change them.
* Pouting when you want to spend time with your buddies.
* Bringing up the dreaded "Where do you think this relationship is going?" question.
* Acting bratty, bitchy, demanding, dramatic, picky, or manipulative to see if you will put with it.

The remaining part of the list is found on his site, so please head over to check it out.

So of course, shouldn't Minishorts, being the type of woman who'll fight to death her right to defend her gender (although sometimes, she admits, because she's female, the guys will find her words skewed to her benefit), be one who is seething at these careless words? Ought not I be obliged to write a long post refuting his points… which I am joyfully admitting, as with most opinionated clauses, some parts true, some parts not?

I could have plenty to say, but I'm laughing out in glee.

But that is besides the point of my post, other than clarifying that this post really isn't one to engage in a Battle of the Sexes with Abdul. Mix.FM has been having that Breakfast Show series for several years now, and the Battle of the Sexes has yet to really intrigue me… I've come to a point of saturation, and all I say, occasionally, is, 'What the heck man?'

Well Mr Hobo, I'm sure the world can see your post for what it really is. A test for people to pick it out so that you might gather some attention over here. Your post on Lies was far more intellectual, at least, it was original and functional.

This one? It's just an excuse of 'Read me here Read me here', but because I think you're a pretty good blogger, and more people should know about you, I'm obliging, and feigning test failure, and pimping you today, because your previous blog posts are individual gems demanding re-reads.

But, surely you're not about to add yourself to the embarassing statistic of ego-inflated attention-seeking men in the world, right? But oh, I forgot. You are one. The Test, proves just that. Men like you like their egoes to be stroked. And if that becomes impossible, they'd resort to doing ANYTHING just to get the attention of females. Even if it means insulting an entire sex in a single blog post which attempts in being humourous falls flat in its face.

I must say it's a disappointment to see a promising writer giving in to reader-pressure. Gah.

Eric says I fit perfectly into the Category 2 of women, 'The Anything Lor… girl' according to this video (thanks Paul!).

As much as I've to admit my guilt, I am not too happy with the entirety of that opinion. Oh you know that conversation from generations ago, the one where the man very courteously asks 'What do you want to eat?'

'Anything.'
'Would you like to have Japanese?'
'Nah, I don't feel like Japanese.'
'Would you like Thai then?'
'Errr… I have an ulcer.'
'Ok, let's go to a hawker centre, you can choose from anything you want.'
'Don't want lah, I don't like the crowd.'
'Errr, then what do you want to eat?'
'Anything.'

It's overdone, it's repeated, and all the MID have told me before, 'I wish there were a restaurant called 'Anything Restaurant.'

I think both sides of the gender are to be blamed for this mind-boggling situation. It's like this, most guys can't be bothered to think about a place to have a date PRIOR to the date, and then they leave the decision making to the girl. But the girl usually hopes that the guy was romantic enough to decide on the dating place first, she wants a surprise (most girls love surprises). Unfortunately, it's a futile hope.

Then again, how come people don't ask about the other side of the coin, like, why can't guys make the decision, take you to the place, and surprise you. As far as I know, I've never heard of a girl who isn't thrilled when her man takes her to a place where he's already reserved a table, and pre-ordered the dishes. He doesn't even have to order her favourite foods, neither does he have to know that his girl HATES eating cream of celery (I had this the other day and it sucked), but it's the thought that counts. The ingenuity of actually PLANNING out a date prior to taking her out is what increases his sex appeal, rather than the usual option of picking her up, and then asking her, 'What do you want to eat?'

Repeat the conversation, but instead of 'What do you want to eat?' Just sit her in the passenger seat, and tell her, 'I'm not sure whether you're going to like this restaurant, but you tell me after the meal all right?'

My first date was fun, a long long time ago, that date where I sort of knew he was going to ask me whether I'd be interested in a serious relationship with him. That was a date where he sat me in his car, and instead of asking, 'What do you want to eat?', he told me this, 'I'm taking you to this restaurant, it's nothing classy okay?'

I so happen to like a man who can make decisions, mmkay?

At the restaurant, he asked me first, 'Do you take fish?'

I nodded, and he turned to the captain, 'Patin, steamed.'

And then he turned to me, 'Any vegetables you don't take?'

'Err… I don't like bitter gourd.'
'All right. Choy-tam okay for you?'
'Sounds good.'

And he told the captain, 'Stir-fried choytam.'

Then he asked me once more, 'Tofu?'

'Yeah sounds okay.'
'How'd you like it?'
'Urm, any way's fine by me.'

And then to the captain, 'Hot-plate tofu.'

Just like that, the order was made, quickly, and in a very sexy decisive way. I still think it was a damn sexy way of taking charge, and despite the unromantic atmosphere in that typical Chinese Tai-chow restaurant, that first date still goes down in my memory bank as one of the greatest dates of all time.

I guess after a while, the guy gets tired of taking the reins, and resort to very un-macho-like questions like, 'So what would you like to eat?'

Eh, all it takes is a rephrasing of the question, and something simple like this, 'Can I take you somewhere nice?'

Of course the catch is that you have to decide on that somewhere nice before you ask her, okay? You can HELP HER decide on what to order once you're both there. And even if the food turns out tasting horrible, fret not. Usually we females are too nice to complain about bad dinners out. The most we'll do is laugh about silly dining choices, and that date will be one to remember for life.

The bag is only half-filled, I've been distracted by too many back-to-back episodes of CSI, CSI! Did you watch the one they had on CSI: Miami last night? I still can't get over names like Horatio in a boss, but nevertheless, Eric Roberts was juicy yummy in the episode. He was pure evil, and till now I can't dispel the images of him whacking that axe into the woman. And after that there was the tale of the thin guy who got crushed to death by the 300 pound woman after sex… by the time I was done with the shows Mum was up and screaming for me to head back to the bed, 'You wanna get well for your trip or not, get up here right now!'

Yes you can be over 21 and still have a mother in her sleeping robes screaming at you for staying up too late. And too late is, apparently, 12 am.

But never mind that, we were talking about my bag, yeah? I've only packed half of it. This is when I really wished I were a guy instead… at least you don't really have to bother about what to bring, that much. For a four-day, three-night stay, guys probably will just bring along about six shirts, and a set of slacks and an extra pair of jeans if necessary, plus boxers/briefs and all, and that's just that. Ok, he'lls need some basic toiletries, but the men I know don't really careless whether the stuff at the hotel/friend's apartment is suitable for their skin or not. Shampoo? Eh it's just shampoo! Soap? Just use the complimentary bar lah. Shaving cream? Take the free one that the hotel provides lah, or borrow from the generous friend. Toothpaste, I'm sure my girlfriend will bring along some.

In the end all the toiletries he'll bring are probably a toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, some deodorant and maybe, a shaver. A comb of course, but just in case he forgets he can always count on the girlfriend. SIMPLE.

On the other hand, the girlfriend will bring along a lot of stuff in her bag: the facial cleanser (only this type for her skin, otherwise the pimples will surface), the toner, the mosturizer, the sunblock, the body shampoo, the hair shampoo, the hair conditioner, the hair serum, the body lotion, the toothpaste, the comb, the makeup: foundation, eyeliner, eyebrow pencil, gloss, eyeshadow/blusher, eyelash curler, perfume, the earrings for day 1, day 2, day 3, day 4, the necklaces, the bangles, the jeans for day one, the skirt for night one, the pajamas for nights one and two, and then nights three, the cargo pants for day two, the shorts for mid-day two, the slacks for day three, the tops: the lacey one, the ribbon-y one, the spaghetti straps, the bohemian one, the flower-printed one, the shoes for the dinner, the sandals for walking , the slippers for in the bathroom, the walking shoes, the socks for the walking shoes, the sanitary pads, the emergency tampons, the bras, the panties, the boxer shorts, the panty-liners, the shawl, the ribbons for the hair, the pompoms for the ponytail, the bags for day one, day two, day three….

All right, I AM exaggerating. But take away half of the above and you'll still see how much more expensive and heavy it is to be a girl. Even the essentials are extra for women. Men: Shirt, briefs, pants, sandals. Woman: Blouse, Bra, Panties, Skirt, Sandals, and on period days, pads + a very grouchy demeanour.

But this is what happened last night, I told the bf that I won't be able to make it to the gym tonight, because I'd have to stay home and pack my bag.

'What for? I haven't even packed my own bag yet.'
'That's because you're a guy.'

And that makes all the difference.

It is an apparent misunderstanding that females are more prone to flogging dead horses.

Men do it just as well, if not better.

I shouldn't blow things out of proportion and call it matter of national pride. Maybe I'll put it down to the man's ego, it's ego, just ego. There's nothing wrong with ego really, it's what defines a man. Applause to that. He's a man, aye, no doubts about it.

Meanwhile, because I'm female and moving on is my speciality, I'm still going to Singapore next week to eat Wantan Mee. Without the tomato sauce.

Who says you can't personalize good stuff to make it even better?

Add-on: Apparently men with big balls also have the tendency of awaking sleeping dogs in the name of humour. Medically speaking, big balls can't really be a good thing. Having them blue and engorged must really hurt.

Now that things have settled down, and my boyfriend and my mum are speaking to each other again (and him and me being all cosy again), it's quite fun to look back on the funny things Mum said to me.

But I suppose it's a woman thing, you know, how woman can't take things as they are, literally? My mother was like that at the peak of the syndrome attack. Oh, you know, she went to my Grandma (who has heaps of experiences before her, having had 14 children of her own), and told her about her defiant daughter (that's me).

I've seen Mum do this before, and my grandma would always be saying the same old mantra, 'Dear, your daughter's all grown up already, you need to let her make her own decisions. She's got her own life to lead.'

So there. That's just a very normal line, right?

Usually Mum would nod her head and say, 'Yeah, true, I can rely on her now.'

But but but, when we argue, Mum would magically pluck my Granny's words from memory, and throw them back at me, in an odd and twisted way, 'Your grandmother also said that I shouldn't bother with you anymore because you're all grown up and you won't let me into your decisions anymore.'

Weird.

I try to remind myself, that it's just a woman thing. I've done it before too anyway. You know, the normal stuff. Thing is, the difference with Mum and I, I don't speak my grievances out loud.

Him: It's pointless to argue over this matter, we can't seem to see eye-to-eye anyway. Let's just leave this.
Me: You don't love me anymore. You don't even want to discuss things with me anymore.
Him: So what do you want to eat tonight?
Me: Why must he ask? Shouldn't he already know?
Him: OK, I'm a bit tired. Maybe I'll get home earlier tonight.
Me: He's pretending to be tired because he doesn't want to see me anymore. He's got tired of me.

Actually, Mum and me have that odd case too. My mum, however, says her interpretation of what I say outloud.

Me: Ma, I can't talk in the office for too long. My bosses will notice.
She: What kind of boss are you working for? Mother also cannot talk to meh?
Me: Ma, I'm going out for dinner with the bf's family. I'll be back later. Would you like something?
She: OK-lah, you have another family already. You don't even have to worry about my meals anymore.

There was once a classic situation, when I came back from a dinner with his family, and Mum asked a normal question, 'So was the dinner good?'

And I said, 'Yeah. His mum can cook very well. It was a great dinner.'

(I didn't mean anything bad, OK? I just didn't want her to worry.)

Mum's reply shocked me to the bones, 'I know lah, my cooking just isn't as good.'

Oh man. Tough times.