quarter-life crisis

Somewhere in our twenties, we get stuck in this seemingly perpetual transitional phase that makes you want to change everything you know.
When we're fresh off high school, we have one goal: to be free. We crave the university experience, moving to a new country, living alone, getting our driver's license, becoming an adult in the eyes of the law. It's a rush of adrenaline combined with the complete confusion of "what the hell am I going to do with my life?" but it doesn't really matter because we're young and free and everything is going to work out.
When we finish our first degree, we are looking forward to a new kind of experience: paid work. We're excited to get into the realm of the job we always dreamed of, and whatever it is, we think the experience is going to be great. For the first time in our lives, we are making our own money, feeling independent, and really experiencing what it's like to work.
Great. Until we wake up one morning, realize we're 24, 25 or 26, and everything comes crashing down. We're still stuck with the job that was supposed to be our first, and lead on to more exciting prospects. For the most part, we are not who we thought we'd be at this stage of our lives. Remember in high school when we talked about our 10 year reunion, and thought we'd all be super successful or married with babies, or something... Well, my ten year reunion is coming up, and to tell you the truth, me and my high-school friends --we're still almost exactly the same. We still hang out with the same people, laugh at the same jokes, and maybe just handle our alcohol a little better.
I woke up at 25 and thought: really? is this who I'm going to be for the rest of my life? Where did my dreams go? You're suddenly hit with the frightening reality of life: we don't all turn out to be millionaires at 25 (who knew???) and we don't all have our dream job, prince charming on one arm and a Luis-Vuitton bag on the other [not that this was my dream]. Actually, my dream was to become a Hollywood actress, and be the first Lebanese girl to walk the red carpet and win, not one, but two Oscars. When I was 14, no one and nothing could take my focus away. I was going to be one of the best actresses that ever lived, and I was going to show everyone that I could do it. Needless to say, I am not spending my Saturday nights at a pool party with Jennifer Aniston.
So now what? I'm 25 and terrified that this is it, that my life will pretty much be this way from now until the day I die.  A lot of us quit our jobs; one of my best friends just immigrated to Montreal; others decided to go for their MBA and left for other countries. Here we are, still looking for change, for an experience that will enthrall us, pull us up and down and sideways until we're dizzy with excitement. We're still  too young to be stuck in a routine, in a dead-end job, in a boring life.
And it's the same with love. We wake up one morning and think "is this it?" and we're terrified because it's not what we thought it would be. Relationships are hard, and they take work, and they're unfortunately not so exciting everyday. Reality is disappointing, and we don't want to settle for less then our dreams.
And so we make change happen. We quit, we move, we break-up, we take a chance. We'll do anything to make sure we don't end up like our parents, that we live exciting lives, and that we pave the way to great experiences, until we finally let go for a while... and wait for a mid-life crisis.

my boys

There's a famous part in When Harry Met Sally at the very beginning, when Meg Ryan and Billy Chrystal spend about ten minutes arguing on whether or not men and women can really be just friends, and Harry says it's impossible because there's always the sexual tension from at least one of the two.
Well, I'm a strong believer in male/female friendships. Although I think it's very hard to develop such a platonic friendship in your twenties or beyond, I do think that when you stroke the friendship early on, and passed the sexual tension mambo jambo in your early teens, then that friendship can last forever.
Proof is, my boys. There are a lot of advantages to having male friends. One of them, obvious, is it's a lot easier to analyze a man with a male perspective helping you there. The other, also obvious, is that boys are more fun on any given day.
For me, each of my boys gives me something I need, altogether providing me with life essentials, with the exception of passionate love and sex [although some might argue friends with benefits can work, but more on that in the next post].
I'll admit they throw in the occasional "will you flash me?" or "can we please just sleep together" but it's all innocent jibberish. I've come to appreciate them even more recently, as one of my two close girlfriends left the country, and the boys are all I have left.
One cooks for me, appears whenever I need him, always has answers to questions like "where can I buy an anything ?" and jumps at every occasion to be adventurous. One takes me for beers, listens to me rant endlessly, and puts me in my place when needed. He takes the time to give me good advice, and is the perfect companion for a lazy Sunday watching 25 episodes of Seinfeld. One is the perfect gentlemen, always making me feel protected and princess like. He compliments me, and is always there for me, even when he has to call overseas and listen to me be girl-like for an hour. He's my rational-go-to-friend. One makes me feel loved, always checking on me when he feels I'm in need, and tries very hard to make me feel better. And another is my own personal clown, a funny personae who will make me laugh no matter what.
I write this post, unlike any other, with absolutely no agenda. I just wanted to say thank you to the men in my life who I know will always be there. And when shit hits the fan, I'm very grateful I have them in my life. Men and women can be friends. And they can be the best.

to bitch or not to bitch

Men love Bitches. It's a known fact that resulted in countless books, blogs, tv-shows and movies, all giving us prime examples as to why men love bitches, and how women can learn to be bitches.
The truth is, I think it's completely true and makes perfect sense. Men love the chase, they are hunters, and they just want what they can't have (or think they can't have). And I know this because countless men, including some of the Rats whom you all know a little by now, have admitted this to me. When you meet a guy, you never want to be as easy as 123. You want to make him sweat it out, make him think you're not interested. Later, when you're in the relationship, you never want your man to know he has you right where he wants you, or take you for granted. He'll think of you as he does his mother --and THAT you really don't want. So always keep that little mystery, always keep him at an arms length, don't bend forwards and backwards to please him, etc., etc., etc...
Sounds like a pretty straightforward plan. But the truth is, if it doesn't come naturally to you (to be a bit of a bitch) then it's just exhausting. From the second you meet a guy until forever, you have to remember not to let go. Which is, if you can do it, actually a good thing, because that way you always retain your sense of self, independence and a life that doesn't necessarily include him.
One of my friends got hooked on a girl simply because she showed a little interest --and then none. For months he pursued her, no matter how many times she feigned indifference. My friend Camel on the other hand was really into this girl for a few weeks --but then she started calling too much, being too available, and suddenly the chemistry vanished for him. She couldn't understand what went wrong: he seemed so into her. And she continued to pursue him for months, which obviously drove him away even further. I can go on and on about a zillion examples of the sort. And you might thing it's an age thing, but it's not. My uncle, who's almost 60 and is known as the Legend with guys from my generation, told me a story the other day that made me want to pull my hair out: he took this girl out for a drink at Capitol, and on the way up they met with two of her guy friends. While he stopped at a table to say hello to some friends, his girl was off to the bar with the two guys. "I wasn't going to let her lead me on with any games," he told me. "She came in with me, she should stay with me. But since she wanted to play, I dove right in." Indeed he did. He went off and had another woman (a much younger friend) join the others at the bar. And when they were about to go to another club, he took them both. Oh, and as if that isn't enough, he calls her the next day and asked what she was doing. She said "nothing." How did he interpret that? "When she says nothing, that means she's just sitting there, waiting for me to call her. Well, I'm never calling her again." And that's that. A 60-year-old, attractive, fun, social man, and he still gets to play the field. He's is the incarnation of all male instincts put together, and look at how fast he dismissed her. Because she said she was doing "nothing."
And if you think that type of behavior develops only after decades of experience, you're wrong. My 17 year-old brother is not any better. He's a good looking boy and he knows it. Girls are throwing themselves on him left right and center, and he takes advantage of it. But the only time he's interested, is when the girl seems not to be. And although they usually hold the fort for about  a minute, as soon as he gets her, has her, and feels like the chase is over, he comes and tells me "I want to leave her. I don't know what happened I was so into her. Now I'm just... not."
So... I don't know whether to tell you to bitch or not to bitch. I don't want to tell you anything actually, I think we all try whatever works for us. But I do think we spend way too much time analyzing what men want, what men need, what keeps a man from cheating, blablabla... But when we get the simple, straightforward answer of just be a bitch, we don't try it. We say just "want to be ourselves" and we're just too caring and it's just our personality, and we like open up and give him our all... well, don't give him your all until he gives you his all, and be yourself... just be your bitchy self.

anatomically speaking*

*Men, beware, you will not like this post.

I was talking to my friend Classy about how it seems that selflessness is engraved in our DNA, or even our XX chromosomes. The very anatomy of women defines us as caring, sensitive beings that are inclined to give rather than receive. Of course, and I say this from the start, there are exceptions and anomalies to my theory.
To say that God created us equal is complete BS. He created us completely unfairly and unevenly. Some of us are beautiful, some are butt-ugly, some are skinny, some are fat, and far beyond physical aspects, some have serious malformations, others are genetically predisposed to cancer, are autistic, deaf, blind... the unfairness of it all goes beyond anyone's imagination.  And at the core of it all, the main inequality is gender.
Men and women are not equal, anatomically speaking. And God clearly designed us not to be equal. I guess he wanted us to "complete" each other. At first glance, it looks like men were created to give, and women to receive. I mean, men are built stronger, which is why they are the "provider," and they were given the power to thrust... women on the other hand, well, they receive... if you know what I mean. But this was just the cover-up: Women were created to be maternal. And that says it all. Because while men can have children in every country and not even know about it, women will always know if they have a child. Which means, anatomically speaking, that we women are not allowed to be selfish. We are designed to give, take care of, be maternal. We have to carry a child and share our body whether we like it or not. I'm not gonna sit here and go through the usual "we have to go through childbirth, we get our period every month" complaints, although they're TRUE... but think about it! We get milk in our breasts that is necessary for the baby to grow. We are bound to our babies, and we have to give them our bodies and our nutrients, and that's just the way nature is. Just like in the animal world, at our core, a female's instinct, and a female's anatomy is to care for. And while men can be caring or not, choose to stick around or not, they at least have the choice. They are allowed to be selfish.

out with the girls

It was like any other Wednesday night with the girls, except that for the first time in a long time, four of us found ourselves recently single [yes, I too am recently single and no, I will not talk about it].
Downing wine and Mojitos and whatever else came our way, we each gave advice to one another like in a twisted domino game, each knowing exactly what the other should do, but barely willing to accept that same advice for ourselves.
The thing about breakups is that they are never perfect. Unlike the harmony with which you start a relationship, the end seems disentangled and all over the place. Obviously I'm not suggesting it should be pleasant, but wouldn't it be great if it was as easy to get in than to get out?
My friend Glams had six months of pure passion: he swept her off her feet, did everything in his power to make her feel like she was the queen of the world, until she finally let go of her defenses and gave in, enjoying the feeling. Then something changed. The honeymoon phase slipped out.  What was supposed to turn into phase-two of the relationship, where a sort of routine takes form and concessions are made, actually turned into the terminal phase. Why? Because her man did not want phase-two. He loved euphoric, passionate, crazy-in-love-part-one, but isn't ready to adapt to the pattern of the real relationship. When efforts become required to keep things going, he checks out.
My other friend, Classy, had a different story. She left her man because she just didn't feel like they were right for each other --not in the now anyway. And he, as the complete opposite of Glams' man, is willing to make every effort to make it work.
But here's the thing: no effort, or too much effort? Trop, ou trop peu, gate le jeu. There is no middle in these stories. The one who thinks a relationship can and should work with no efforts whatsoever, or it's just not supposed to work. Or the other who thinks he can change everything about himself to fit into the image his girl wants. And the same goes for girls. Extremes can't possibly work. Because even if Classy had let him make every effort and become who she wants him to be, then at some point in time, the guy will eventually go back to his true self --you can't change who you are. And then he would be very frustrated for having pretended to be someone else for so long. In both cases, it doesn't work.
It's funny how we never get to watch phase-two in movies... maybe it's because it's the boring part? We get to watch the first phase, the last phase, but never the part when the relationships needs a little effort, a little compromise, a little routine. When we watched Disney movies as kids, the princess always married the prince in phase one... and they lived happily after. My question is: how?

Cheat-Sheet (part two): the open relationship

By definition, the open relationship defies all odds. To me, "relationship" means closed. Two people, a couple, man and women, man and man or woman and woman. But here comes the 21st century and everyone is trying to figure how the hell to keep that relationship working, defying the odds, being the ones who make it through and finally grow old together. That's what we all say right, "I want to have a family and a spouse, because who the hell wants to grow old alone."
I agree, I don't want to grow old alone, there's nothing scarier. But what about the now? We can't all design the 30 to 40 years we have on when we turn eighty --if that day even comes. So how about not basing a relationship with the goal of growing old, and live in the present. Because if you take out the future in the equation, a lot of things might change.
Now the open relationship is quiet the fascinating concept. A couple decides to officially accept that the other person can and will sleep with others. They usually have rules like "always use condoms" and "don't ever introduce us." They go about their day, come home at night and kiss each other, always expecting that just a few hours earlier someone else was kissing them. Officially, what this couple is doing is accepting that humans cannot be monogamous, and try to take sex out of the love equation. They try to minimize its power, all the while admitting that sex is so important that they must agree to have it with other people. The open relationship is a way to avoid deceit, a way to avoid feeling cheated and betrayed. But does it really work, forever? What if one person is always hopping around from one sexual partner to another, while the other is just pretending to do the same? Day in and day out, do they really love each other more or better because they're able to have sex to their heart's content?
But like my friend Caporal says, there's the "official" open-relationship, and the "unofficial" one. When I said, in my previous post, that I could theoretically accept my boyfriend having sex with someone else as long as it is a one-night-stand and I nor anyone else ever finds out about it, it could be considered as an "unofficial" open relationship. I'll admit, I have no idea which one is better, more respectful, which one actually works in the long run. Maybe we're all fooling ourselves. Maybe none of this works --they're just tools to prolong the inevitable.
But to me, it's all in what we know. I really believe that Ignorance is bliss.

Cheat-Sheet: were we meant to be monogamous? (part one)

Monogamy. The question that is the key to ninety-five percent of relationships has actually been here for centuries: can we really, truly be monogamous? Were we meant to?
In Ancient Rome, wives used to send slaves in for their husbands to have sex with --they would only be offended if their husbands had sex with women of their own rank. At the time of Alexander the Great, men slept with other men, other women, had orgies --nothing was considered too much. And in Tudor England (16th Century), King Henry had mistresses and bastard children right left and center.
Today, we're a lot more taboo, conservative, and monogamous. I could never imagine myself sending my husband a prostitute just because I don't feel like having sex right now. Imagine that!
But the way sexuality used to be does give us a moment of reflection here. Maybe they had it right and we have it wrong. Not that I want my man to sleep with hundreds of women and come back to me at night... But maybe, if we all accepted that the concept of monogamy cannot exist realistically, then we'd all suffer a lot less.
What's funny though, is that I never really heard of women sleeping around with hundreds of men and it being okay with the husbands...
Nowadays, people try all kinds of modern relationships to try and curb monogamy, and "make it" as a couple. Open relationships, swingers, threesomes, and I'm sure a dozen other ways I've never even heard of. And it might work out for some of them. But I believe most of us women aren't wired to be "just fine" with having the person we love being with other women. And I definitely don't think men would be "just fine" with their wives sleeping around. 

When I was 13 years-old, my mother told me something that really shocked me. She said her friends wondered how she could live with my father traveling for such long periods of time --wasn't she afraid he was cheating? She said, as long as she didn't feel like he was any different with her, then she wouldn't go looking for the problem. In other words, what she doesn't know can't hurt her.
I didn't get it then, but I get it now.
At the time, I remember thinking "is she crazy?" My mom was a very strong, independent and rational person, so I couldn't fathom how she could possibly accept the possibility of being cheated on. But now I know.
The reality is, boys will be boys. And it might be cliche as hell, but it's also true, and we're all better off being realistic about our expectations from the beginning. 
In my book, if he plays by my rules, I can handle it. But there are rules, even when cheating.
My top priority is respect. If my man cheats on me, I don't want to know. For the very simple reason that even if I will want to forgive, I will never forget. The image of him cheating will keep replaying in my mind, over and over again, and it will never be the same. And I don't want anyone else to know either. Because if his friends know, they will loose all respect for me, and forever look at me with a smirk, or worse, pity. And if the girl in question knows me or anyone I know, she will feel above me. Like she shares a secret with my own boyfriend. And that is just more disgusting to me than any sexual act.  I actually don't know how women who were publicly humiliated by their husbands can actually move passed it and forgive. Hillary, Sienna, I really don't get you. I'm more likely to be in the Elin Woods, Sandra Bullock, Jennifer Aniston camp. But I wonder what would've happened if these couples weren't famous, and their love lives were kept private. If the whole world knows your man cheated on you, that's the kind of the disrespect you can't forget --that being the understatement of the century.
But I do believe a man can love you and still cheat. But if he does love you, he will not want anyone to feel above you in any way. That kind of cheating obviously excludes anything more than a one-night-stand. If my man is in-love or has an actual relationship with someone else, then yes, I want to know and I want to get out PRONTO. 

lost in translation

The last post spurred a myriad of reactions from the Rats, which I thought I'd share --for the sake of being fair to everyone's point of view. 

If I told you that Saturday night, after six drinks and about five-hundreds shots, 4 Rats plus one cheered "To Beirut Rhapsodies," would you believe me?

The truth is, they love knowing what we think because they believe we are complicated creatures who over-think everything, and they cannot understand our thought-process. Like my friend Caporal told me, men say what they think, and women hear what they want. 

I'll admit that women tend to analyze words and gesture sometimes to obsessive lengths, which many times create a misunderstanding that could've been avoided --if only we were able to turn off our minds! I always have arguments with my man until he manages to convince me that what he said was just what he said. Yes, it is true that we women say yes when we really mean no, say we're okay when we're really not okay, and get very upset when men cannot detect the real answer behind our fake answer. It's the way we are. Wiseman actually explained it best: "The main difference between men and women is that men are Rational and women are Emotional. If women understand that, then their relationship will be great." 

Told you he was wise.

About Guys' Night Out, the Tenor told me he felt like my post described him one hundred percent right, while Wise and Cap assured me that they never felt the need to put boys night in the schedule --but that time with the boys is precious.

But the number one question I got was: does your boyfriend read your blog? Hah. Well, the truth is, he can barely read 5 lines without falling asleep, so I thought I was pretty safe. That was before I realized that guys are reading this blog almost as much as girls, and definitely have a lot more to say about it. After he got several mentions of it by friends talking about his "guys' night out" he called me and said he wants to read my blog immediately! So there I sat next to him while he went through the four posts... actually surprised that he read all of them! 

And his reaction was... "very cool."