lonesome cowboy

The other day I was in a car with three guys, who were, obviously, discussing women. And one of them is a forty-something single guy, who said his episodes with women were like Lucky Luke adventures: at the end of every story, he goes off onto the next, alone.

It's a funny thing about men. Now don't get me wrong, I love men, and all my closest friends are guys. But Rats and non-Rats alike, too many of them have this relationship phobia. What is it about commitment that makes them freak out so much? Some of the guys I know are commitment kings, always in a relationship, very comfortable in admitting that life is more fun when you have someone to share it with.

But the majority are just not like that, and they're the ones I'm gonna talk about, because they're the ones we deal with as single women. Actually, we deal with it even as women in relationships, when our boyfriends make us feel like they're doing this major sacrifice by committing to us, and that we should be grateful.

Hmm. Well apparently there's this new trend going on with guys who openly tell you, right upfront, that they are "assholes." I find it very odd, when you are flirting with a girl, trying to get some... to immediately say: "By the way, you should know, I'm an asshole." Wow. Exemplary. Now the guy thinks he has a free pass for being an asshole, because he told you so. You've been warned. So if he doesn't call, doesn't make an effort, doesn't take you out for dinner or never sees you again, at least he was honest. Who can put a price on that?

What's funny is that they probably think that by giving you that line straight up, they're being honorable. They actually believe it frees them of any guilt. When I spoke about this with the Rats, they all praised guys who are "so transparent." An ex-boyfriend of mine also told me that whenever he had flings with girls, he would tell them honestly that he wasn't looking for anything, that this was purely physical, making him feel like he was doing the right thing. So basically, if you say you're an asshole, then you can no longer be considered an asshole, because a real asshole would never actually say it. Blows your mind, doesn't it?

And then us girls are left with two choices: either consciously accept the asshole, or reject the asshole, and wait until the next one comes along --with or without the honest touch. Fine. Fair play. But I think, in my oh-so-clever-mind and after years of listening to Rats' tales, that these guys are just cowards. The idea of relationships freaks them out, and some get over it after the age of thirty five, and others, like my uncle the Legend, stay that way forever. Newsflash guys: not every girl you make out with wants to take you home to mom and get you to put a ring on her finger. That's just a rumor. Most just want to have a good time, like you, and if you really clicked, try and see how it goes. But with the asshole line, you've just wrecked it for good.

Now I love the exception to the rule. When Mr. Asshole meets Ms. Bitch, and suddenly the line becomes: "I'm usually such an asshole with every girl I meet, but you are sooo different from all these girls." And there can be the start of the greatest love story, where the player is turned into a one-woman man, and everyone is astonished at how this girl was able to tame him. And she feels proud that with her extraordinary womanly skills, she lured him into the commitment he was so phobic about. And it's good while it lasts. Until the Lucky Luke inside him wakes up some odd-years later, and wants to get back on that horse.

So my question is, lonesome cowboy... where do you think you're going to end up?

all is (not) fair in love and war

I can't decide whether or not I think "all is fair in love and war."

On the one hand, I'm inclined to say that yes, all is fair, that there are no rules, and that it's every man for himself. The very definition of war means no rules, and the very definition of love --well, is undefinable. There is no right way to seduce someone, all lines are permitted, all tactics are allowed. Some try the smooth talkin' cheesy lines, like my friend the Spaniard, and sometimes it works, and sometimes is doesn't --just like every other flirting method. Some do the slow, let's take our time conversations, spend days and weeks talking their way into the other's heart. Others like the catch-me-if-you-can approach... it goes on and on, and all is fair game.

But then it gets complicated. People get hurt and it's hard to keep saying that yes, all is fair, when clearly you feel like everything that is unfair in the world just happened to you. Because all is not fair. Someone always has the upper hand.

If Al Qaeda strikes the twin towers on a sunny morning in September, it is not considered fair play. They planned, trained, prepared for months, years maybe. While those on the receiving end were taken by surprise, and the fight could not be equal. When Israelis raid Gaza, no matter how many Palestinians hide behind human shields, it is not fair play because the amount of military equipment they face do not compare to what they have. One side is almost always stronger than the other, and the one whose down struggles to fight back.

And so it is with love. If you are not prepared when the plane comes crashing in, you fall to pieces, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, until you hit rock bottom. For a while, there will be nothing there, just rubble, dust, and the souvenir of what was once stood. There will be grieving, there will be crying, there will be pain. Then, when the time comes, you start talking about rebuilding. The idea becomes more and more possible, plans are made, your sight is cleared up, and it is suddenly acceptable to imagine something new. Where there once was one, two or three will come.

The thing is, we all find ourselves on both sides of the story at some point. Like my friend the Masochist said to me "there is no right way to break up with someone." Maybe there is no right way to win a war either. Maybe that's why they say all is fair. And what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. Oh, and just  to kill it with the cliches: Karma's a bitch.

breaking away

Sometimes it feels like we're stuck in a bad relationship, a bad routine, a bad job, and we don't know how to break away. We have dreams and ambitions that we keep putting off because something or someone always gets in the way. It's easy to loose track of the things that really excite us, that would really make us happy, and just settle for easy, predictable, safe.
As we grow older, we get more scared. I guess it's the price of "life experience" and "responsibilities" and "acting like an adult." I am always trying to get back to that time when my dreams were so big I would drown myself in them, and just the fact that I had a dream place to evade to was amazing.
I got this book called "Creating Your Best Life" and it's all about how to put your goals and dreams, long-term or short-term, crazy or realistic, on paper. A bucket-list. 100 things you want to do in your life time. It's actually really hard to come up with. And there's a bit of everything in there, from writing a novel, to winning a Nobel prize, to swimming with dolphins or going to meditate at an Ashram in India. And it seems like a long shot, but last year, I crossed out four items off my bucket-list, and it was unexplainably satisfying.
We get stuck doing things we don't enjoy because we're too scared to go outside the familiar. Couples stay in bad relationships because they're afraid of being alone, of loosing the other's support, of never finding anyone else. I know I've done that. I got stuck in a relationship where I wasn't happy, where I felt more lonely than if I were to be alone, where the everyday struggle of thinking my relationship through had become exhausting. So why did I do it? I was settling. I was scared of the alternative. But once you break away and feel the freedom of having your whole life in front of you, then yes, it is scary, but it is also exciting. There is a world of possibilities that I had stopped seeing.
People get stuck in a job they hate, because they're afraid of being unemployed, of having to live without a dime, of falling off their career track. And it is scary, and it is hard to dump it all and start from scratch. But there are things we can do to prevent the really scary part. You can look for something else while you're still working. You can decide to stop postponing for next year, and make a decision before next months. It takes guts, but I think it pays off.
I've been putting off writing a book. I give myself all kinds of excuses --too much work, the routine sucks the creativity out of me, I don't have a quiet place to write, etc., etc., etc... So I started the blog to motivate me, and it worked, I now at least write twice per week, which is a lot more than I used to. But the point was to start me off and get me excited about working on a novel. And there are always new excuses, reasons why it can't be done, and truth is, it's all a question of discipline, of how much you want it.
So now i decided to stop postponing. I left the routine behind, got away from the city (and trust me, I'm a city girl, and I don't do well outside the city for very long), got myself a quiet place to get inspired, and write. So far, I got one page down. But I'm trying.
Sometimes we need to just turn our minds of, stop thinking about doing, and just do it. Just break away.

scars

"I ask you right here to please agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived." Chris Cleave, Little Bee.

I read this sentence last night and I loved it so much I couldn't think of anything else to post today.

Scars come in many forms. I only have one scar on my body, and it's a pretty cool scar to have. I don't want to brag or anything, but when I was four years old, I got a bullet in my foot. I didn't exactly get shot at in a dramatic instant of the Lebanese civil war, but still --I got a bullet in my foot, and I was four years old. I remember this like it was yesterday. I was sitting at a political rally (God knows why anyone would take a four year old to a political rally in Beirut in 1989) next to another young girl. There was noise and clapping and some speech going on, and I was holding a Lebanese flag. Suddenly the girl next to me taps on my shoulder and points to her foot. And I gasped in horror: it was pouring out blood. "Are you okay?" I asked, panicking. "It's not me," she said. "It's you."

That's when I screamed. It wasn't the pain, not yet. It was the fear.

It took another 24 hours for everyone to realize it was a bullet that landed on my tiny right foot. First they took me to a clinic nearby because they couldn't reach a hospital, and because no one really knew how I came to have a hole in my foot by just sitting down, they all concluded that I must've hurt myself with the flag. So they sewed it up and sent me home. I spent all night with the bullet inside me, my foot swelling, red, burning and throbbing with pain, and my father trying to keep it cool. It was only the next day that they were able to take me to the hospital, do an X-ray, and tell my mother there was bullet. I still have the X-rays, and I still have the bullet. I take it out every once in a while and stare at it. If it had eyes I would be looking straight at them. This bullet could've landed anywhere, but it landed on me. It could've killed me, but it didn't. It's part of me now, part of my story. It's my scar, and I survived.

Not all scar stories are easy to share. The scars on our bodies, people can see them. They point to them, and ask "what happened?" and then you have a reason to tell them. But there are many scars which no one sees and no one asks about. And these are the scars that make us who we are.

I was talking about this with one of my best-friends not so long ago. We were saying how we had both been in relationships where our partners didn't understand our scars, didn't want to hear about them, didn't see their importance. They thought talking about those stories was like having a self-pity party. And like idiots, we avoided the topics that made us who we are. I could only ever be with someone who not only understands my scars, but appreciates them, loves them because they are a part of me. These scars are what set us apart, make us unique and build-up our life story. Someone who loves you is supposed to see that. Each of our stories gives us the context for people to understand why we are the way we are, and we should never be ashamed of it. I am proud of my scars and where they have taken me.

I have a friend whose father died when he was eleven. And this little boy turned himself into a man all by himself, took on responsibilities, worked hard since he was 14, never asked anyone for anything, and today is amazingly successful. Maybe to others, he is "normally" successful. But once you know the context, you'd know it's amazing.

Before a scar becomes a scar, it's an injury. It hurts, bleeds, burns. With time it heals, sometimes quickly, other times slowly, but it always heals. My scar is almost gone now. It's been 21 years since a bullet strayed into my life, and you can't really see it anymore. But I know it's there. It's my scar, and I survived.

passing through

We meet strangers everyday.
In fact, most of the people in our lives, our friends, our colleagues, our spouses, were at some point strangers to us.
Sometimes you can share a lot more with a complete stranger than with people you've known your whole life. The girl who meets a guy in a bar and ends up in his bed an hour later, shares her body in complete intimacy with a total stranger. She might never see him again, and yet for a glimpse of time, they were as close as two people can physically get. The surgeon who has the life of a patient in his hands, actually touches his heart and makes it beat again, giving him life back. The woman who was meeting my father for a business lunch when he suddenly had a heart attack, and who drove him to the emergency room --saving his life. The volunteer worker at a makeshift hospital in a disaster area, who holds the hand of a stranger who only has a few minutes to live, witnessing his last breath. These bonds that are created in the lapse of seconds, minutes or hours, are sometimes stronger than those we spend years weaving.
And it works backwards too. A husband wakes up one day and tells his wife "Next week will be twenty-five years since we were married. I told you we would be together 25 years, and we were. Now I want a divorce." True story.
Imagine spending more than half your life with someone, and then in a split second having them walk away. In that second, the husband went from the closest person she had to a complete stranger.
I knew a person not so long ago. He was my partner, my best-friend, and I knew everything about him. We had our fair share of hardship when we were together, and we saw each other in the most vulnerable of situations. And then things crashed, the way they do sooner or later. And now he's a stranger. I know nothing about him, and the truth is, I don't care to know. This person I saw every day for years, I haven't bumped into in months. And if I did, I wouldn't even know how to say hello. How do you say hello to a stranger?
But they say people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. And whether they were in your life for a day or for a decade, many a times, they will remain strangers. Because on the large scale of things, a few seconds or a few years can have the same effect.
And at the end of the day, I guess we're all just passing through.

what's her name again?

My sister and I got my brother a funny gift for Christmas: two pillow covers, one of which says "what's her name again?" and the other "I hope he calls tomorrow." Haha.
The thing is that this "I hope he calls tomorrow" BS is really starting to get on my nerves. There is something so demeaning about us girls always waiting around to see if the guy is going to call --so basically, for him to make the call on whether or not you will see each other again. Yes, I know, there's a game, and men like the chase, and women have to seem evasive or busy or feign indifference to trigger his hunter nature and boost those hormone levels, but why is it that they have the power to decide whether or not to pursue --and all we get is the sitting around part, waiting for the red light on our phones to flash? (not that I've ever done that)
My friend Rebelious was on a date a couple of nights ago, and ended up spending half the night making out with this guy. He drops her home and says "I will call you." He takes charge, initiative, puts the ball in his court. And so she leaves him happily excited to have spent a fun night with a guy she likes. By the next day, she goes from joyful glee to waiting around for the phone to ring. And when the phone doesn't ring, let me tell you, it changes her mood. If you think you've seen a woman at her worst on PMS, then check her out when it's 9pm the day after and she's had no sign of life. Not a pretty picture.
But every rule-book out there says women must let the men do the pursuing. God forbid she should suggest to go out again, or worse, actually call before he does. Forget that she's a good looking girl, smart, funny, creative... she called. The ultimate turn off.
And what's even more unfair, is the whole rejection process. Reject a guy and he will get more excited, turned on, more interested, more hooked, in-pursuit mode. But let a girl get rejected and it's humiliation. We don't get to be the great deciders of "let's go out again and see how it goes" or "let's make out again because it was fun the first time." No, we only get to play on the guy's move. He calls, we answer. He asks you out, you decide if you'll say yes or no. But it's his move every time.
And it's a pain in the ass. It is true that women love to get chased after, just like men love to pursue. But I don't like to feel like I can't follow my instincts, break the rules or play outside the sandbox in fear of looking desperate.
I don't have a wise solution on how to actually do that without running the risk of getting the humiliating rejection. But for what it's worth, I think a guy who runs the other way just because you make a move wasn't going to stick around anyway.

shared happiness

This weekend, my friend had a down that completely resonated with me. "I need a change" she said. And I knew exactly what she meant. Sometimes we really feel like we need a change --if only we knew what it was. The problem is that for most of us women, we get caught up in collective-living and completely forget to live for ourselves. So once we are left alone to embrace the freedom and joy of being utterly selfish, independent, and free to be whoever we want to be... we have no idea what to do.
I could be wrong, but it feels like men have a better grip on being themselves. Whether they are single or attached, they pretty much live their lives the way they want to, following that job in Costa Rica if that's what their career calls for, or climbing the seven summits if that's what their heart calls for.
Women do that too, but to a lesser extend... and with a lot more difficulty when they are attached. We tend to prioritize our relationship, because we think, after all, what is more important? To get that amazing job, or to be with the person you love? For my part, I tend to put more value on relationships (not just romantic) because I think at the end of the day, if I die tomorrow, it won't matter that I won an oscar or made the bestseller list --the only thing that will matter is what the people I love remember me for.
But I also think we need balance. Because we only live once, and life is short, we should enjoy it and do as many things we like as possible. And the truth is, even with all the love in the world, it's not smart to put all your eggs in one basket. Mothers who live for nothing but their children often feel useless and completely lonely once the kids are all grown up and have a life of their own. Women who spend their time making sure they are the perfect wife, get dumped, or their spouse dies, and suddenly they end up all alone. People you love are what is most important, but you need to love yourself as well, and we tend to forget that. We make sure everyone else get what they want but we neglect our own needs. And soon enough, we forget what those are.
My friend and I want to go on a great adventure. We want to do something we've never done before, be far away from everything we know, take a leap of faith and see where we land. It'll be good for us, and we won't be neglecting anyone in the process. Waiting for change will do nothing, we need to make change happen. There's an inspiring story called "Eat, Pray, Love" (read the book, don't see the movie) where a woman decides she needs a change, and embarks on a year of travel to rediscover herself. She lived the last few years of her life in a bad marriage where she totally lost her passion for life, and she needed to find it again. She goes to Italy to do nothing but enjoy the pleasures of food, then she goes to India to meditate and connect with her spirituality, and finally she ends the year in Bali, where she falls in love. I love that story because I relate to her completely. Waking up and realizing you have no passion is scary. Passion makes you feel alive, and that's how I want to feel.
But in that search, there is one thing we should always remember: "happiness is only worth it, if shared." (Christopher McCandless) 

Game on

I've been reading this book (The Game) for the last three days and I have to say it's the ultimate disappointment. After the last blog some of the guys told me "Noooo, don't do this, you can't reveal the game, it's our bible, blablabla." So I thought I was really going to find some super amazing magical trick that men have discovered to pick up women. But the truth is, it's actually a little pathetic.

Did you know that there are men in this world who spend so much time trying to figure out how to pick up women that they devise strategies, scientifically precise techniques, with memorized openers and rules on how to get the "target." We (women) are the target by the way.

Ok, I'll admit, it's a very funny book. But I wonder if Neil Strauss ever thought of what would happen if women started reading it --because honestly it lowers the game's standards to a whole new level of low. These men have an entire underground society, with Gurus and Mentors that compete with one another's techniques... They have a whole language full of jargon like Neg (break a woman's confidence by using a line like "you kinda have man hands") Sarge (going out to meet women) and Condiment Anchoring (you don't even want to know). These guys take workshops to work on their craft, exchange tips online on some secret forum with a password, and attend seminars. Talk about working it. 

But since we're talking, I'll share the first technique. Men, listen carefully: Smile when you walk into a room. Spot the group with your target, and approach them instantly. Instantly means you have 3 seconds to walk over and say some very funny, interesting, and obviously memorized opener to the entire group. Ignore the target. Then neg the target with some stupid neg you've memorized. Make sure you keep the attention of the entire group by doing a magic trick, or tell a super funny joke. Isolate the target by telling her you want to show her something cool, and do something that will fascinate her  like an ESP test (because that is the way to a women's heart --or pants). Look for IOIs (indicator of interest) like if she asks your name, or if you squeeze her hand and she squeezes it back... Stop talking and see if she re-initiates the conversation. If she does, ask her if she wants to kiss you. If the answer is yes or maybe, dive in. If the answer is no, say "I didn't say you could. It just looked like you had something on your mind."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the Mystery technique. I got bored just writing it down. But just for kicks, I'm gonna teach this technique to the Rats and send them out to try it.  I am actually really curious to see how this could work on anyone. It sounds awfully complicated --magic tricks, ESP demonstrations, memorized openers and jokes to make an entire group of strangers laugh... Just seems like a lot of work just to pick up a girl. And then they say women are complicated! That is officially the most complicated flirting approach I have ever heard of --and it's not even actual flirting, it's a list of to-dos that needs a cheat-sheet to keep you on track. 

I talked about this over dinner with Tenor and Wiserat, and they were dumbfounded. Now obviously, good looking guys like them who have a natural talent in flirting with random girls would never think about using some complicated technique that takes all the fun of it. But for guys who are shy, geeky, ugly and/or socially awkward, The Game is apparently the way to go. But because I trust my Rats (I've seen their work, and it's good...) I'll share Wiserat's obviously wise opinion: "All men need to know about women, are three things: They want you to make them laugh, to make them feel protected, and (pretend to) understand their feelings."

Game on.

11

I couldn't sleep last night. I spent the last three days telling everyone and their mother that I was going to post 11 resolutions for the new year, that I would have to follow no matter what. The point was to post them all on the blog so I would have witnesses and would feel the pressure to go through with them. I guess I felt so pressured I couldn't sleep all night.
First of all, I couldn't come up with 11 resolutions. I asked my friends to help, and obviously all they could come up with were sexual challenges that included sleeping with a girl, getting spanked, trying the effects of naughty lingerie and some other stuff I prefer not to mention. I guess this post would be a lot more fun for everyone if I agreed to 11 sexual resolutions, but I have to admit I passed on all of them. Not the kind I was looking for.
I was actually hoping for something a little more life challenging, resolutions that would help me put my life on the right track. But who else but me is going to care if I quit smoking, buy a bike or vow to go on a Habitat for Humanity mission?
So there will be no sharing resolutions today. In stead I thought I'd share some of my great wisdom... and I racked my brain for an hour and couldn't come up with anything. So I did what I always do when I lack of inspiration and it's Monday afternoon --I went to the bookstore. I spent a few minutes browsing in the self-help section, of which I already own 90% of all books with titles like "the power of now" and "create a better life," because the simple act of buying the book makes me feel like I've already changed something. Anyway... I spotted a book called The Game, otherwise known as the "single guy's bible." I had already seen that book before, because my ex-boyfriend who never read a book in his life had a copy. He said he started it a couple of days before he met me and that it worked like a charm. Apparently it's a full proof seduction plan to get any woman... Well, I thought, if this book has 11 chapters or more, I'll blog about it. And what do you know? 11 steps, exactly. And the first one is called: "select a target." Wow. I can feel like we are going to have a field day out of this one. So here's the new plan: I'll keep my 11 new year's resolutions to myself, and in stead, I will share with you the 11 steps of this apparently magical book in the upcoming posts. Boys, you might learn something useful. Girls, we're going to learn that boys think of us as targets (step 1), how they plan to extract to a seduction location (step 7) and how they manage expectations (step 11). And maybe, just for fun, I'll play the boys game for a little while --just to see what happens.

This is how Neil Strauss (the author of The Game) starts his book: "I could not become anything: neither bad nor good, neither a scoundrel nor an honest man, neither a hero nor an insect. And now I am eking out my days in my corner, taunting myself with the bitter and entirely useless consolation that an intelligent man cannot seriously become anything; that only a fool can become something." (Fyodor Dostoevsky)