Diary,

I tend to consider myself a modern man. I’m a doctor, after all, practising modern medicine. I also consume loads of media from all over the world, staying informed on all the goings-on in this century. I believe women should have equal pay for equal work with men. And no, a woman’s place is not in the kitchen. That’s too much of a generalisation.

That said, I still believe in traditional roles for men and women. Being that so far, only women can give birth and suckle the young ones, it remains their place to take care of small humans. Also, men are too hare-brained to concentrate on more than one thing at a time, and taking care of a family requires a multi-faceted effort.

On the contrary, I think wooing should be left to men. The art of pursuing a potential sexual partner requires the kind of finesse only men can muster. And by finesse, I mean lying. If I was to approach a strange woman, say, at a bar, and say, “Hey there, love. My name is Tom and I’d like to apply for the position of your future ex. In case we happen to bear children during our brief encounter, I wish to be the man you’ll be dropping them off to at the police station, where we will continue our fights over alimony and child support. So what do you say, sugar?”

It would all be true, but I’d most likely get a slap on my face for my effort. The art of wooing (yes, it truly is an art form) requires tonnes and tonnes of overpromising and no-so-veiled exaggerations.

“Forget all those other losers. Me? I’ll never look at another woman. Why should I when I have the most beautiful woman in the world?”

“Thirty seconds? C’mon, that’s for amateurs. I’ll have you know, I make peanuts a very regular part of my diet. I’d probably kill myself if I lasted any less than one hour.”

“I’ll give you the world, baby. And the moon and all the stars. Nothing is off bounds for you as long as you belong to me.”

I know this because I’ve applied this technique myself to varying levels of success. Don’t ask me where I think the rest of the people will relocate to if I give the world to a woman I want. Or exactly how I would gift-wrap the moon and present it to a woman. Capturing it alone would be a monumental task only fit for a villain like Gru from Despicable Me.

Thing is, women like these lies. Also, don’t ask me why, but I hear all the time from disappointed women who ended up getting less than they had been promised.

Women, on the other hand, aren’t very good liars. Most of them, at least. I can’t tell you why I believe this to be true, but I could hazard a guess. I think women have a deeper conscience than men. While the male species will fib without a hint of scruples, women tend to ruminate on their actions.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not insane enough to claim that women don’t cheat, which involves quite a bit of lying. What I’m saying is, they put a lot of thought into everything they do, even cheating. And it’s thinking that makes one feel guilty. Men hardly muse over stuff they have done.

So, when Anika, a single-by-choice Indian woman attending the Perpetual Singles’ Study in Agra, India with me, propositions me one evening, she does it the way no man would.

“Hey, Tom,” she says. “How about you come to my room tonight after the conference? We’ll only have sex, no cuddling or such nonsense. We get done, you go back to your room, no harm done. Are you game?”

She’s lucky I’m a single man with the libido of a rabbit.