Intelligently single

There are many things, that life teaches you. And the ones that take home in your head are the ones that are life altering. Certain conversations and discussions, no matter how random they may be, leave such a lasting impression that litres of turpentine seem insufficient. One of them being that women who are intelligent, don't find men.
Which means the dumber a woman, the greater her chances of landing Mr. Right. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not on a feminist trip here. But on deeper probing, I figured that maybe it is right. (no offence to all my happily married, almost married, going to get married girlfriends- you're the best) All our growing up lives, we're taught that intelligence is a virtue, it's what will set you apart from them. But as we grow up, intelligence starts becoming a vice. Especially if you're in the singles market. Maybe it shows on your face, maybe it scares the 'smarter' species off.
Why?
Are men today so insecure that they'd settle for a great face and the right statistics that could just as well be stuffed with hay? Or is it that they don't like their intelligence, their points of view questioned, and they love having the last word? It's funny really, some years ago, a good friend of mine told me, that conversation was the biggest turn on- maybe that's what made him and his wife click- that's what made them rise higher than just being an ordinary couple to being great partners. I agree. I know her, and she's smart. Very smart. And my friend- well he's just plain lucky to have her in his life. And on many heart pouring sessions, he's admitted to not being as intelligent as his wife- and hell, that's what he loves the most about her.
I feel that what men overlook is that, one day or the other, the great looks and the gym-toned body will all die out and all that will be left are two chairs on a balcony, and two people sharing a cup of tea. And if you have nothing to talk about at that point- you're headed towards doomsville. Or you're already there. But just a little dumb to figure that out.
Imagine, waking up in the morning, setting aside the 'sweeties' and the 'babies' and talking about what's happening in the world. Imagine, having a partner who can kick your ass when it comes to world issues and not mind getting her's kicked, if she gets the facts all messed up.
In the interim however, I'm happy being single. And not having to worry about toning it down. And I'm quite sure there are a lot of women out there who feel the same way.
And a lot of men, who don't.
To them- my apologies.

Vanishing Toothbrushes

Till about a fortnight ago, a sleek white and blue pepsodent toothbrush sat content in a sea green porcelain holder. It was visited morning and evening, (cockroaches and spiders barring) and it liked to believe that those few minutes were the happiest in its otherwise bristled existence. While it sat there patiently, it pondered over many things. Like the fate of the thinning bar of soap, the squeezed out of breath toothpaste tube and the floss thread on its last legs. Surrounded by so much vanity, it felt lonely. And it felt bored.

Until one day, it was joined by two new toothbrushes. And then a third. Suddenly, it had things to do, and people to speak with. And like the umpteen boxes of scrubs it too had company.

The joys of the toothbrush were innumerable. Fighting for space inside the sea green porcelain holder for one.

Loneliness takes on a totally different meaning, especially if you're a toothbrush. You know you're dispensable, and that someday the pretty bristles on your head won't be as comforting as they once were. But the same changes when you have company. After all, who better than another toothbrush to really understand how you feel.

The next fifteen days were the best that blue and white ever had. The four of them laughed together, whispered about the not-so-friendly. And then one day, one by one, the first two left. There were no weepy farewells, just a few drops of water, hastily shaken off, before being squeezed into the dark corners of a toilet bag. That's what happens to toothbrushes who travel a lot.

The third was the last to go, it's farewell different, wrapped in a plastic bag that belonged to a soap that was snooty. And smart enough to know, that lying on it's tummy meant lesser space for number three. In the company of the snooty soap, number 3 would forever loose its essence- and take on another different one.

Blue and white was once again left all alone. The bristles, saddened looked down and weary, and one by one, the last drops of water shed. And it was just a matter of time, and blue and white was the last to go.