From a Psychotic Girlfriend, With Love: “Five things I’d like to teach the average Pakistani Boyfriend.”

“So you call me crazy, huh?”

(A note to any idiot who will read this and get offended: No, this is satirical piece based on nothing factual.)

1) You made your choice, deal with it:

Think back to the time when you began liking your girlfriend (let’s name her Sadia to make my writing easier). So, Sadia was just the girl you thought would be perfect for you: she was pretty, confident, intelligent, sociable, had a body you wanted to keep holding all the fucking time, she laughed at your jokes although you knew she didn’t find them funny, she gave you those sexual innuendos which were oh-so-appealing….and somehow, despite being a tigress with you, managed to wow your mum with her domesticated facade. So, now, you and Sadia have really hit it off and it’s come to that point where you’re talking to each other all night, indirectly insinuating your feelings for each other, exhausting your SMS packages more rapidly than usual, and ofcourse, sickening your best friend with the stories of “ OMG ALI SHE TOLD ME SHE WANTED TO LICK MY CALVES LAST NIGHT!”

Eventually, you pop the question..she says yes, obviously and you two become an “item”. The first month is glorious: the excitement, butterflies, the awkward kisses which eventually improve and become amazing, the dates and sweet love talks ofcourse. But one day, Sadia tells you she doesn’t like that pair of green Converse sneakers you were absolutely loved. Okay fine. You didn’t wear them infront of her.

The pressure increases.

“Salman, I don’t like you talking to Ayesha. She’s such a slut. Why did she say hello to you? She only said hi to make me jealous!”
“Umm..okay Sadia…I’ll try to keep out of her way.”

But it’s not enough .

“Salman, do you KNOW what Faiz did today? I saw him staring at you. OMG he’s gay isnt he! You CAN’T ever talk to him again! Promise me!”
“Sadia he’s not gay. He was probably just looking over his shoulder.”

“I’m going to cry! I can’t handle this!”, comes the reply as she starts screaming her lungs out until you have no other option but to concur that Faiz, poor thing, is gay with a irreversible crush on you.

Two weeks pass.

You get a text in the middle of the day saying “When you messaged me telling me that you loved me, you didn’t add an exclamation mark at the end of wrote “I love you.”, but not “I love you!!!!!” You don’t love me anymore! I KNEW it! It’s Faiz isn’t it! I always knew you were gay! I hate you! I hate your guts! Fuck off! I never want to see you again! I hope you die and get eaten by maggots!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “


Well, Salman. You made the choice, so now you have to live with it. I don’t understand why boys don’t expect girls to be emotional. It’s like its some sort of revelation to them when they experience it first hand. And they react in two ways; they either a) flake out b) cry

Relationships aren’t only about what you know of the person when you first start going out with him/her, but about the new aspects you discover; and yeah, that could mean that you run the risk of finding out that your girlfriend is a serial rapist (if you’re really lucky).

Like honestly, if you want no drama, no emo bullshit….go out with yourself. Masturbate. Your dick is your best friend for life.

2) No, I will not wear a shuttlecock burqa to that crazy party happening on Saturday night.

No, we don’t live in 400 BC anymore. No we don’t all support the Taliban. Yes, we like being sluts at times. No, I will not wear that shirt with a neckline that reaches my chin. No, my dad’s name is not Osama Bin Laden.

Boys think it’s very sweet and caring and affectionate of them to impose restrictions on their girlfriends which conserve their girlfriends reputation and dignity. But honestly, it’s pissing off.

Do I tell you to pull your pants up when your swagger around with half of your bright green boxers visible to the world? No. I don’t care.

Don’t tell me who I can or cannot go out with. Don’t order my food for me; yes I want that deep friend chicken drowned in heavy garlic mayo cream with a side order of potato wedges AND fries.

Don’t stop me from consuming what I want to consume. That’s my personal duel with God. You have your demons to battle when God will be asking you about that time your mom caught you having sex with your ex-girlfriend in your dadi’s bed.

Yes, I will act like a retard on ecstacy if I want to. I will be loud and obnoxious. I will cuss in urdu and laugh like a mad-man if I want to. Don’t make that disgusted face.

You chose to be with me.

And NO. I will NOT cancel my plans with my girlfriends just because you’re free after hanging out with your boys all day. No, I will not.

3) I’m not your maid.

Just because I’m a girl doesnt mean I’m your maid.

I will not wash your underwear.

I will not make your bed.

I will cook for you once in a while but don’t make it a regular expectation.

If you pee’d you pants by mistake, no I will not sit there and lovingly wash your boxers for you (the same applies if you thought you needed to fart but accidently soiled yourself).

Yes, I might enjoy some of the things I do for you because I like/love you, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t reciprocate. If I ask you to do something for me, don’t be a selfish bitch- be caring enough as to listen to me. So what if I want you to give me a bikini wax? So what if I ask you to play dress up with me and cats? So what if I want you to wash my period stained jeans?

Reciproate. Balance it out. Equalise the relationship. Don’t expect things from me that you expect your maid to do.

4) Yes, I will complain, nag, seek attention, be pampered. I have a vagina.

Did you think that I was born without emotions? Just because I was all cool and composed with you initially doesn’t mean that I don’t want to occassionally yell at you, cuss you out, cry my eyes out, want you all to myself, expect surprises from you, be taken out on dates, be pampered, be taken to that new boutique that just opened up although you detest going shopping or being bought that flower randomly?

Yes, I’d like you to empathise with me and give me what I want. Don’t get pissed off when I get my period. Did I choose my biology? I’m not a customized Subway sandwich.

Yes I will get pissed at you during my time of the month. Understand. What if you had blood coming out of your vagina for 5 days straight every month of your fucking life till you were 50? 

What if you had to either wear a mini pillow between your legs or stick a oversized capsule in your vagina (which by the way, you hadto pull out with a string that was attached to it. What if the string broke? Whatchu gonn’ do now, huh?)

Don’t give me bullshit about your ‘bro’s over hoe’s” policy. I bet if I told you I was lying waiting in your bed with only a rose in my mouth, you’d immediately forget all about this “bro code”. I don’t mean for you to ignore your friends, but maintain a balance. I’m not your pet iguana.

5) You’re the man. Act like a man, not a statue.
Please don’t act like a pussy. You don’t have one.
Don’t be an emo little prick. Don’t cry everytime we fight. Stand up for me when you need to (but don’t over-protect me).

No I don’t want a 10 page letter in my inbox after every fight we have, in which you tell me about how your feelings were hurt and how you were about to cry but stopped yourself until after I hung up.


But then again, don’t be an emotionless statue. If I ask you how your day was , don’t tell me you don’t know. You have feelings, you’re human.

And lastly….when I go bra shopping, NO you cannot come inside the changing room with me.