Drop your stinking preachy socks in the laundry, walk the bitch of society in a park of could-care-less [no leashes, please.], sip on a hot cup of calm-the-fuck-down and drop the burden of the bubble-wrap-world off your shoulders.

In other words, free your mind of any preconceived animations of what “are” and “could” be ten-on-ten relationships. No one is perfect. No relationship is perfect.

“Imperfections are the pieces of art you want hanging on the wall of life.”

[The judgemental ship of anal-retentive diaspora sailed and sunk. Gold fishes. No connection. Focus only on your breathing. Watch out for a possible step in the pavement if walking and reading is your swag.]

Perhaps, deep-down-there, we’re looking for bordering romanticism. A companion for life’s free-fall. Is it because we’re afraid of sagging alone, wrinkled in a bedroom of loneliness?

The counter of “better-options” is a wise-crack huddle. Its the longer one of the two, with people waiting to find the right one and are ignorant of what lies before them.

[Refer to section:- One night stands. Masturbation and possible withdrawal symptoms. Would 25 pet camels, a giraffe, a fleet of Porsches, lifetime access to the Playboy mansion (+viagra) and a private suite on the top of Burj Khalifa help?]

*Possible connections may vary in your contract. Porn-stars are exempted.

Fundamentals of existence. Purpose. To be desired and loved. To not die alone. The burning desire of conquering fizzling into a lamp of let-me-live-happy. Agreed, all random and puzzling thoughts. But I promise the dots connect.

[Hey! Look. A giraffe.]

The obvious truth- life is short. What are you going to do? Spend every minute pondering or living? Dreaming helps. Getting married, kids and the innuendo of THAT marathon. Sigh.

What’s real then? Work is a mere part of who we are. Balancing life between those little moments of joy and utter boredom or sadness. Contemplative exile from this over-tuned-media engine reflects blips of truth.

While attention spans are… Facebook poke.

We’re looking for someone to share this incredible journey. The ability of that person in letting go, to cultivate, to raise and to not contain a partner’s passion and dreams.

Playing the role of a canon and pivot leading to empowerment. Additionally. An ocean of breathing space would be pushing your luck but perhaps a sea could be the model for a fine tight rope balance.

Letting the other person be. Loving them for who they are. No manipulation. No terms and conditions. No fine print. In case of fire grab the hose below. The bare and raw truth of your naked thoughts maturing like fine wine.

Take a sip.

[This blog’s origin is an evening of dribbling ideas with an old pal, his take on being married and why one should pursue dreams of becoming a porn-star based in SFO.]

Not so long ago, one had to book a telephone connection and wait [by the window, biscuit dipped in tea] for months before a lineman appeared for the installation.

On the day, one would organize a party serving only cheap liquor and show-off the magical device. But, no one you knew had a phone so it sat there, waiting to tinkle. Blast to today and the rules have changed.

*Operators are carefully stalking your next move.

“Sir, we were wondering if you’d like a telephone connection?”

Translation:
We’ve gone from supply unable to cope with demand based model to surplus supply annoying the demand in the ass racquet.

“No, for the last time. I can barely keep up with this one lady.”

What does that have to do with dating women?

It’s the same reason why women from a smaller town appear to be far more difficult to score versus a bigger one.

Here’s the catch.
Smaller towns have massive demands but the supply [of cute, pretty and hot girls with a PERSONALITY] is bleak. Considering the male to female ratio in India, you have loads of guys hitting on every kind of girl.

Scavenger approach.
An 8 in the arms of a 5. How the twerk did that happen. Clearly, he’s been rejected by an 8 and in his low moment, was drawn to an easier 5 [thereby jacking the 5 to believe she’s an 8 or 7]. Pity to watch men scramble for an oink.

This is score inflation. A 5 becomes a 7 and a 8 becomes a 10 [or what we have these ladies believe] by virtue of emasculated pride. What you now have is a souped up society full of women who think they are THE kid on the block.

Perspective: Imagine if you got hit on all the time by women. Would you give a flying-fish to every one?

I don’t think so.

Versus.

A larger availability of pretty, cute and intelligent women [with a personality] in bigger towns. All them vying for the alpha male. On a playing field, full of warriors, each one is trying to make her mark.

Let’s take a moment and imagine that.

Translation:
Women are far more receptive, conversation hungry and approachable. Clearly there are more 8, 9 and 10s in any room. Most of them will go the extra mile to get your attention.

Supply is in excess of demand. You can connect with what suits your budget, personality and lifestyle. Like that telephone connection.

Small town girls let their hair down in the big city: This means a small town girl appears to be different in a bigger town- like a dual personality. She no longer has to conform or is under the watchful eye of the ones she fears. The judgmental sort.

Players take the girls home.
However, one cannot expect to score by being a needy and boring little twig.

After reading Blink I began to connect the dots. Ten minutes later I was proud of a giraffe.

[Advertising & Jobs]

I had been sitting at my corner desk, brandished with a self-imposed designation OCD (Oddly Creative Director) on the pin-up board, surfing in a paradoxical wave of ideas.

*Or daydreaming porn in other words. Funny how my boss would call me in on it every-freakin-time.*

As a copywriter, working in advertising, I was given the challenge of coming up with erotic content for a condom brand.

[Yippee! Followed by a victory dance, is what happened in my head earlier during the week, when this assignment was handed over to me.]

The kinky-led-porn-education-lasting-three-whole-days that followed only gave me a handful of jerky conclusions. I realised I hadn’t been inspired, nor had I been transported into an elevated state where the mind can seamlessly forge kick-ass words to form beautiful lines.

With only an hour left to the deadline my boss stepped up to my desk, scanned the lines I had been chasing in hope of brilliance to strike any-moment-now and in the blink of an eye connected line four to nine to three to eleven (scrapping away residue), making one giant mental note as if being spiritually taken.

Three and a half seconds later, he was out smoking in the hallway because he’d put together the most stimulating copy before our eyes like a magician seconds before.

[While others, used to such displays of genius, labelled it experience, I was convinced that my boss was secretly Superman.]

Only after reading Blink many years later did I realise my boss was the perfect example of instinctive thinking. He would, like a snooty designer, decide if something would work or not in seconds of sight.

Even Steve Jobs took snap decisions throughout his career and followed a similar school of thought. From discovering a mouse at XEROX to introducing the iPod, Jobs defied experts and consumer focus groups. He was known to walk into a room and have his team work on something because he knew what experts with tons of data could never imagine.

“Consumers cannot tell you what they need,” – Steve Jobs.

Malcolm has outlined this with a beautiful Pepsi & Coke challenge. Its the perfect example of market research experts funnelling millions of dollars into an orgy of ambiguous pursuits.

A sweeter drink will always pass the taste test and Coke never realised their victory was at the bottom of the can. (Read the book to know more.)

Often graphic designers or advertising-folk fight with clients over ideas because their gardener (apparently better perspective) or two-year-old, suckling on a nipple (sarcasm intended) have better foresight of their business. In other words, if you were to ask an architect to write you a prescription for migraines, you better be prepared to deal with a whole new set of problems.

[Women & Clients]

If you were to ask a girl what kind of a man she’s looking for and then have her meet ten different men, you’d be surprised she’d pick the one far off the list. Hey! There’s research to prove it. Said Malcolm himself.

I personally enjoyed this chapter for the obvious reasons but also because Neil Strauss (The Game) from the pickup-artist world had a similar theory on the subject.

[Book review on The Game also coming soon. BTW. In a matter-of-fact tone.]

How do you impress a hot girl at the bar or a boss in an elevator in less than 30 seconds? By effectively understanding how people thin-slice you can overcome this anxiety of pitch. In both scenarios you’re trying to sell yourself.

And I think Guy Kawasaki had the best solution to the new client/boss problem (not mentioned in the book). If you’re going to pitch to a client with only 30 seconds (assume time taken in elevator to travel from ground floor to the 2nd floor) then you better focus on selling the idea of what it is you do.

[Jobs inspired people in the same time in an elevator.]

Neil Strauss teaches you to frame and prime girls with anecdotes, memorised lines and some practiced bar tricks. In short, 30 seconds and you blow the girls mind. BANG! You’ve scored “A” on first impression as the most interesting man (like, ever).

Simply put, women have no idea what they’re chasing (like consumers who’ve got no clue of what they want). And because we thin-slice (make snap judgements) based on stereotypical prejudices you can be rest-assured this affects us all.

[Conclusion]

Blink is nothing short of genius. The book illustrates with various thought-evoking examples of how instinctive-thinking or snap decisions can do extremely well or go horribly wrong if born from a naive and unexperienced expert.