Rating My Men

My experiments with men — here's the truth.

- Sonia Kapoor

I’m in my forties. I would describe myself as a woman who has finally ‘arrived’: comfortable in my skin, strong in every way (sorry to blow my own trumpet, but it’s a fact. I am not a ‘ball-breaker’ as one of my male chauvinist friends would say, by which he means a woman who has balls). I am just strong financially, emotionally, spiritually and fiercely independent. Most feminists would say: why do you need men? But we all do. They complete us, call it the yang completing the yin. We women tolerate and put up with them, as they feed us on all levels (mostly positively).

Having said all of that, and having dated a few, you can tell how a man will turn out between the sheets from reading between his first few lines and just observing how he comes across when you first meet him.

The ‘orthodox mountain climber’ came out of nowhere in my life. Our first few conversations happened over e-mail (we had not yet met). He tried to flirt, but something about the way he did, told me (a) he was younger and (b) he was new at it. Sure enough, he was younger (by five years)and this is how it unfolded when we met: I don’t judge men by their height, but I do think most men who are just over five-foot something seem to have a complex. He felt the need to make up for it by summiting every mountain peak that exists in real life. When we met, he wanted to tell me all his accomplishments so far — that he headed an investment banking firm, had a life full of strong women (indicating he could handle me, of course). He felt the need to state that he was liberal and called himself a ‘wandering monk.’ When we said our byes, the parting kiss went amiss and he was confused about what to aim for: the lips or the cheek.