It's a peculiar world out there, for those of us single gals and guys. I've been in the dating world in and out for the past fifteen years, and believe me when I tell you, the times are now different.
Forget the friend of a friend you might accidentally meet on a night out and hit it off. By thirty, you've met practically all of your friends' friends. And their new friends are all married couples, so of course there's no potential there.
Forget the seeing a cute guy sitting at the bar and asking him for a lighter to catch his attention. The last time I did that, it turned out I approached a total loser/creep/psycho who spent the rest of the night stalking me, sitting (alone) on the table next to ours staring at me for more than an hour, not taking no (many, many nos) for an answer.
Forget making eye contact with a complete stranger at ladies night (a trendy Dubai thing to do mid-week, where ladies can basically get very drunk for free), followed by the smile to invite him to talk to you. I fell completely under his charm for a good hour; until his friend told my friend that he is actually engaged and getting married in 6 months.
No, now it's all about the apps. How much you know of technology and how good you are at it. Flirting on social media, that's a thing. There's a wave on Instagram I recently experienced: one follows, you check out his pictures, maybe follow back. You get a like, you give a like. A person can look through your pictures and decide they like your personality (or at least, your Instapersonality) they may take the leap and send you a private message. You may even answer.
Then of course there are the actual dating apps. Or sex apps, still unclear who uses them for what. Apparently Tinder is now passé, kind of trashy. Happn is the newer, more classy version I hear. I'm yet to try it out, though I feel like I'm all app-ed out. I'm guessing the principle is the same. You basically get hundreds of guys putting their best pictures forward (the topless one, the petting a large animal one, the holding nephews and nieces one) or those who try to remain mysterious by only sharing a faraway picture so that you can't see much more than a silhouette... you swipe left and right (left a lot more than right) and strike up a conversation (as dry and textbook as they come) and you try your best to find some kind of connection even though the entire setup doesn't help you out at all --it's a lot of work and a lot of energy, for not much return. Sometimes they'll call you "baby" after a two sentence exchange and you wonder what on earth you've done wrong in your life to be in that position at that moment.
And then... then: There's the odd time when one of those many encounters materializes into an actual date. A real live date, a drink or a dinner, a face to face with a stranger usually subdued by one or four drinks, to help you through that awkward hour where you're trying to get to know a stranger. And it can be bad. Or even worse, it can be okay. He's nice enough that even though he took you to the completely wrong place, can't tell you an interesting story to save his life or make you feel anything but awkward politeness, you hang in there. And then you have to spend the next 3 weeks trying to politely, awkwardly, reject every other attempt he makes at asking you out again, until he finally gets the hint.
So the other night, I was talking about this to... my dad. Last person on earth I would ever talk to about my dating life. Because knowing my dad, he'll try to set me up with every eligible bachelor he comes across. And then I thought for a minute, that it might not be such a bad idea after all. I am, it seems, pretty old-school about the whole "how to meet someone" thing. And yes, I choose organically above technology any day. And having my father set me up is the one thing I haven't tried yet. So... I wonder how that will go.
Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts
Saturday, February 13
Wednesday, November 27
little bits of happy
Maybe I'm feeling particularly sentimental because I'm leaving New York tomorrow, but I feel like writing this down.
I've had so many small bits of happiness in the last few weeks here, I had forgotten how much there is that is wonderful with the world. I should be more down, I guess, since I don't have a job to go back to and I just broke up with my boyfriend... But the truth is, I feel good.
Happiness isn't just about having a man in your life or having a great job and making lots of money. Turns out there are thousands of ways to feel bits of happiness.
For me, it comes with walking around the streets of New York and suddenly looking up, and for a second realizing the size of the world. It's spending a night with one of my best-friends playing like 12 year-olds making a music video for a Lady Gaga song and having so much fun doing it. Or going to a store and trying on a dress and feeling you look hot in it. It's going to Bikram Yoga when I haven't been in a year, and having the possibility to go any day I want (turns out, not that many!). It's listening to pandora (even though my friend says it's outdated and I should use spotify, I haven't been able to use pandora since 2008 and I've missed it!) and finding yourself dancing alone...
I'm going to be honest --because it's the whole point of this blog. Last year when I said goodbye on this blog, I thought I was moving on to bigger and better things. Unfortunately, things didn't quite work out the way I planned. I didn't get in the screenwriting program I applied to, I didn't move to Paris like planned, I broke up with my boyfriend and found myself lost and back at point zero. But very quickly, I decided to take my life in my own hands, and I bought a ticket to New York. Best decision I ever took. In Beirut, it was like I was waiting for my life to start. Like I was on pause and just watching the time pass by. But here, I feel alive. And suddenly, I feel like I have all my answers.
If I'm unhappy in Beirut, I should just move. Even if it seems complicated because of my Lebanese passport and visas and all the shit that comes with it, I have to just try. I realized that when the Polish housekeeper came over the other day: she doesn't speak a word of english, she wasn't as lucky as me in terms of education, she also isn't as lucky as me in terms of financially ability, and yet she is here. She tried and found a way to make it work. She took a risk; why can't I? People do it every day.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote in a post that I was going to start doing a lot more things for myself, and I've actually started doing it: Buy a dress that makes me look (and feel) sexy, even if it's outrageously expensive (I think of it as an investment in my self-esteem). Have entire days to myself, where I don't have to do anything I don't want to do, or see anyone I don't want to see. Dare to dye my hair kind of blond to see if they actually do have more fun.
And, best of all: I got an idea for a story. When I started Beirut Rhapsodies 3 years ago, I said it was my way of getting back into writing, because all I want to do is write a really good novel. And now, I finally feel like I have my story. I know exactly what I want to write about, and I can't wait to get started.
All this to say that sometimes things don't work out as we planned --but if we just open up, even a little, a whole new world of possibilities appears. Sometimes, you just have to take one big step, and the rest happens on its own. Like this quote from a book I'm reading: "Fret not where the road will take you. Instead, concentrate on the first step. Once you take that step let everything do what it naturally does and the rest will follow. Do not go with the flow. Be the flow." (Elif Shafak, 40 Rules of Love)
So here's what's next on my list: move to New York.
I've had so many small bits of happiness in the last few weeks here, I had forgotten how much there is that is wonderful with the world. I should be more down, I guess, since I don't have a job to go back to and I just broke up with my boyfriend... But the truth is, I feel good.
Happiness isn't just about having a man in your life or having a great job and making lots of money. Turns out there are thousands of ways to feel bits of happiness.
For me, it comes with walking around the streets of New York and suddenly looking up, and for a second realizing the size of the world. It's spending a night with one of my best-friends playing like 12 year-olds making a music video for a Lady Gaga song and having so much fun doing it. Or going to a store and trying on a dress and feeling you look hot in it. It's going to Bikram Yoga when I haven't been in a year, and having the possibility to go any day I want (turns out, not that many!). It's listening to pandora (even though my friend says it's outdated and I should use spotify, I haven't been able to use pandora since 2008 and I've missed it!) and finding yourself dancing alone...
I'm going to be honest --because it's the whole point of this blog. Last year when I said goodbye on this blog, I thought I was moving on to bigger and better things. Unfortunately, things didn't quite work out the way I planned. I didn't get in the screenwriting program I applied to, I didn't move to Paris like planned, I broke up with my boyfriend and found myself lost and back at point zero. But very quickly, I decided to take my life in my own hands, and I bought a ticket to New York. Best decision I ever took. In Beirut, it was like I was waiting for my life to start. Like I was on pause and just watching the time pass by. But here, I feel alive. And suddenly, I feel like I have all my answers.
If I'm unhappy in Beirut, I should just move. Even if it seems complicated because of my Lebanese passport and visas and all the shit that comes with it, I have to just try. I realized that when the Polish housekeeper came over the other day: she doesn't speak a word of english, she wasn't as lucky as me in terms of education, she also isn't as lucky as me in terms of financially ability, and yet she is here. She tried and found a way to make it work. She took a risk; why can't I? People do it every day.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote in a post that I was going to start doing a lot more things for myself, and I've actually started doing it: Buy a dress that makes me look (and feel) sexy, even if it's outrageously expensive (I think of it as an investment in my self-esteem). Have entire days to myself, where I don't have to do anything I don't want to do, or see anyone I don't want to see. Dare to dye my hair kind of blond to see if they actually do have more fun.
And, best of all: I got an idea for a story. When I started Beirut Rhapsodies 3 years ago, I said it was my way of getting back into writing, because all I want to do is write a really good novel. And now, I finally feel like I have my story. I know exactly what I want to write about, and I can't wait to get started.
All this to say that sometimes things don't work out as we planned --but if we just open up, even a little, a whole new world of possibilities appears. Sometimes, you just have to take one big step, and the rest happens on its own. Like this quote from a book I'm reading: "Fret not where the road will take you. Instead, concentrate on the first step. Once you take that step let everything do what it naturally does and the rest will follow. Do not go with the flow. Be the flow." (Elif Shafak, 40 Rules of Love)
So here's what's next on my list: move to New York.
Thursday, November 14
the "nice" girl syndrome
I have been repeatedly accused of being a nice girl.
You would think that it's a good thing, to be considered nice, but of course it's not. It's like the worst thing you can be called. Like when you ask about someone and the answer is "she's nice", you know there's not that much else to say.
Except that I know for a fact that there is more to me than the whole nice girl aura. But as soon as there is too much niceness, people wont see much else anymore. I've studied the freakin' rule book by heart: men love the chase, yes, it's been written countless times and proven and said by so many men and women that I've lost track. God forbid you should ever let your guard down and not challenge a man for ten minutes.
In long term relationships, it translates as the girlfriend who is too convenient, too caring, too available. A man can love you, worship you, want to spend the rest of his life with you and suddenly, because you're having a bad time and you are unable to hold up the whole "I'm a mysterious woman who can leave you at any second" role, he can just let you go because --well, it's just not exciting anymore. I'm guilty as charged, I'll admit it. I have a hard time following the bitch-persona because it's just not who I am. I've tried and failed. And then I think about all these successful relationships around me and wonder, do all these women have an ability which I obviously lack, or do I just date men who require an unreasonable level of "challenge"?
In the dating world, the nice girl appears as the girl who is too agreeable, too "into him", and again, too available. A man can find you hot, smart, interesting, yet you can turn him off just by sending one too many messages that just make him feel too comfortable about having you right where he wants you. How boring.
Now while a man is having this permanent need to be challenged, the woman is supposed to satiate his needs by being perfect: the perfect amount of presence and the perfect amount of indifference; the perfect amount of sexiness and the perfect amount of working-woman; the perfect amount of nights out with friends versus the perfect amount of nights spent together. We should just all write down the list and stick it on our refrigerators, pencil in the perfect amount depending on the guy we're dating and refreshing it every month as the relationship evolves. You know, just to be sure we're not missing anything.
Maybe I've got this all wrong --I wouldn't be surprised. After all, I have been dumped countless times for the same reason (yes, too nice is a reason for men to break up with you) and so I'm obviously not very good at learning from my mistakes. Unless of course, I switch perspectives. What if I'm a nice girl --with myself?
I grew up in a house where taking care of others was a pre-requisite. And it somehow settled in my DNA. When my mother died I was 16 years old --but my sister was 11, and my brother was 7. I've read somewhere that people who grow up taking care of others develop this thing called "the need to be needed." I catch myself doing it sometimes, with my friends, with my siblings who are adults now and can take care of themselves, and of course, with men in my life. And the constant advice I receive, is that if I was just as "nice" to myself as I am to others, then maybe I can finally beat this thing.
So here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to make a list of things I'd like to do for myself before the year ends, and will document it, here on Beirut Rhapsodies. And we'll see how well that works out.
You would think that it's a good thing, to be considered nice, but of course it's not. It's like the worst thing you can be called. Like when you ask about someone and the answer is "she's nice", you know there's not that much else to say.
Except that I know for a fact that there is more to me than the whole nice girl aura. But as soon as there is too much niceness, people wont see much else anymore. I've studied the freakin' rule book by heart: men love the chase, yes, it's been written countless times and proven and said by so many men and women that I've lost track. God forbid you should ever let your guard down and not challenge a man for ten minutes.
In long term relationships, it translates as the girlfriend who is too convenient, too caring, too available. A man can love you, worship you, want to spend the rest of his life with you and suddenly, because you're having a bad time and you are unable to hold up the whole "I'm a mysterious woman who can leave you at any second" role, he can just let you go because --well, it's just not exciting anymore. I'm guilty as charged, I'll admit it. I have a hard time following the bitch-persona because it's just not who I am. I've tried and failed. And then I think about all these successful relationships around me and wonder, do all these women have an ability which I obviously lack, or do I just date men who require an unreasonable level of "challenge"?
In the dating world, the nice girl appears as the girl who is too agreeable, too "into him", and again, too available. A man can find you hot, smart, interesting, yet you can turn him off just by sending one too many messages that just make him feel too comfortable about having you right where he wants you. How boring.
Now while a man is having this permanent need to be challenged, the woman is supposed to satiate his needs by being perfect: the perfect amount of presence and the perfect amount of indifference; the perfect amount of sexiness and the perfect amount of working-woman; the perfect amount of nights out with friends versus the perfect amount of nights spent together. We should just all write down the list and stick it on our refrigerators, pencil in the perfect amount depending on the guy we're dating and refreshing it every month as the relationship evolves. You know, just to be sure we're not missing anything.
Maybe I've got this all wrong --I wouldn't be surprised. After all, I have been dumped countless times for the same reason (yes, too nice is a reason for men to break up with you) and so I'm obviously not very good at learning from my mistakes. Unless of course, I switch perspectives. What if I'm a nice girl --with myself?
I grew up in a house where taking care of others was a pre-requisite. And it somehow settled in my DNA. When my mother died I was 16 years old --but my sister was 11, and my brother was 7. I've read somewhere that people who grow up taking care of others develop this thing called "the need to be needed." I catch myself doing it sometimes, with my friends, with my siblings who are adults now and can take care of themselves, and of course, with men in my life. And the constant advice I receive, is that if I was just as "nice" to myself as I am to others, then maybe I can finally beat this thing.
So here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to make a list of things I'd like to do for myself before the year ends, and will document it, here on Beirut Rhapsodies. And we'll see how well that works out.
Friday, September 21
two years of Rhapsodies
It feels like it went by in a flash and I wasn't even sure that I had actually accomplished anything in the last 12 months until I started thinking about it for the blog. Turns out I did okay. I think.
Let's see... Went to Cyprus for a week of delectable vacation, doing nothing but lazying around the beach of Paphos with a bunch of girls. Turned off my phone, stopped checking email, didn't go on Facebook. Remembered what it was like to think about nothing. Shot season 2 of Beirut I Love You. Acting, Casting, Writing. Realized being on a film set is my favorite kind of "workplace". Had my first on-screen kiss. Helped organize a fundraiser that raised more than 400-thousand dollars for children. Wore a (borrowed) designer dress (for the first time) by Reem Acra. Felt like a famous actress walking on the red carpet. Lost my uncle to Cancer a week later. The same exact kind that killed my mother. Met a boy by asking him for a lighter. Had a one-night-stand that never remained as "one night". Went to Thailand with the boys and their girlfriends. Walked on the most beautiful beach I have ever seen. Spent New Year's in a bar with Thai prostitutes/dancers and had my first midnight hug with one of them. Came back to my new crush and started falling in love. Fell in love. Started learning Italian on my iphone. Went to New York for the first time in almost 4 years. Hung-out with one of my best friends in his Brooklyn apartment. Went to my 5-year Grad School Reunion. Did Bikram Yoga at my old Union Square studio. That's yoga in a 45-degree room for those of you unfamiliar with it. Visited Paris for the first time since I was 8 years old. Went to see the old apartment we used to live in. Saw a friend I've kept in touch with but haven't seen in 19 years. Went to the opera for the first time in my life. Did Romantic Paris with my Parisian. Watched Game of Thrones, Dexter, Breaking Bad and Six Feet Under. Won best foreign film at the Beverly Hills Film Festival for "Anoesis." Had two films showing at the Short Film Corner of the Cannes Festival. Quit my job. Got a new one. Celebrated my brother's high-school graduation. Watched my sister get her diploma for finishing her BA. Went to Italy for 2 weeks. Rome, Venise, Bologna, Portovenere, Cinque Terre, Florence. Drove on the Italian highway. Took a 2 hour hike in jungle-like terrain with sandals on. Did the cheesiest thing ever and wrote our names on the"via del' amore". Helped my best-friend/back-up plan pick out an engagement ring. Celebrated my younger cousin's engagement. Went to my prom date's wedding last weekend.
Today I'm at exactly 9 months with my Parisian. 38,875 views on the blog. 128 posts. And two years of Rhapsodies.
"Anoesis" Short Film
"Saudade" Short Film
Hanging out with one of my best-friends in NYC
Hiking from one Cinque Terre to Another
Lazying around the beach in Paphos
My sister's Graduation
My brother's graduation
Writing our names on "Via del Amore"
Let's see... Went to Cyprus for a week of delectable vacation, doing nothing but lazying around the beach of Paphos with a bunch of girls. Turned off my phone, stopped checking email, didn't go on Facebook. Remembered what it was like to think about nothing. Shot season 2 of Beirut I Love You. Acting, Casting, Writing. Realized being on a film set is my favorite kind of "workplace". Had my first on-screen kiss. Helped organize a fundraiser that raised more than 400-thousand dollars for children. Wore a (borrowed) designer dress (for the first time) by Reem Acra. Felt like a famous actress walking on the red carpet. Lost my uncle to Cancer a week later. The same exact kind that killed my mother. Met a boy by asking him for a lighter. Had a one-night-stand that never remained as "one night". Went to Thailand with the boys and their girlfriends. Walked on the most beautiful beach I have ever seen. Spent New Year's in a bar with Thai prostitutes/dancers and had my first midnight hug with one of them. Came back to my new crush and started falling in love. Fell in love. Started learning Italian on my iphone. Went to New York for the first time in almost 4 years. Hung-out with one of my best friends in his Brooklyn apartment. Went to my 5-year Grad School Reunion. Did Bikram Yoga at my old Union Square studio. That's yoga in a 45-degree room for those of you unfamiliar with it. Visited Paris for the first time since I was 8 years old. Went to see the old apartment we used to live in. Saw a friend I've kept in touch with but haven't seen in 19 years. Went to the opera for the first time in my life. Did Romantic Paris with my Parisian. Watched Game of Thrones, Dexter, Breaking Bad and Six Feet Under. Won best foreign film at the Beverly Hills Film Festival for "Anoesis." Had two films showing at the Short Film Corner of the Cannes Festival. Quit my job. Got a new one. Celebrated my brother's high-school graduation. Watched my sister get her diploma for finishing her BA. Went to Italy for 2 weeks. Rome, Venise, Bologna, Portovenere, Cinque Terre, Florence. Drove on the Italian highway. Took a 2 hour hike in jungle-like terrain with sandals on. Did the cheesiest thing ever and wrote our names on the"via del' amore". Helped my best-friend/back-up plan pick out an engagement ring. Celebrated my younger cousin's engagement. Went to my prom date's wedding last weekend.
Today I'm at exactly 9 months with my Parisian. 38,875 views on the blog. 128 posts. And two years of Rhapsodies.
"Anoesis" Short Film
"Saudade" Short Film
My brother's graduation
Wednesday, September 19
great expectations
At the very beginning of a relationship, everything seems fun. Nothing the other person does bothers us, we enjoy the time we spend together and we try to make each other happy.
Then, somewhere along the way, something snaps. What used to be a fun, casual, happy relationship turns into this constant stress because we don't know how to make each other happy anymore, we want the other one to make the efforts, we fight about silly things but we can't help it because they bother us so much that we can't control our urge to fight. We spend time together but instead of enjoying it we spend it talking (or arguing) about everything we think is wrong, or bad in our relationship, and we end up unhappy, frustrated, unsatisfied.
Basically what happens, in my humble opinion, is that we go from no expectations to high expectations. When one first starts dating, he doesn't expect anything. So everything that comes is a good addition, a good surprise. Then, we fall into the "efforts" phase and that's always a rocky one.
Sometimes I think it's good to stop, halt, and take the time to remember that even though we're a couple, we're in love, we're "different" than all the others, we are still two people. And by that I mean that even if we'd like to believe that we are"one" we are not, in fact, one. We are two. Hence the term "we." And it's hard enough to find someone who we like to share our time with, with whom we get along most of the time and who makes us laugh --so, we should be lenient if that person doesn't want to do exactly what we want to do at the exact time we want to do it, or if that person turns out not to be able to read our minds (crazy, huh?) or if that person isn't in the mood we'd like them to be in.
Bottom line is: expect less, be happier.
Just my two cents.
Then, somewhere along the way, something snaps. What used to be a fun, casual, happy relationship turns into this constant stress because we don't know how to make each other happy anymore, we want the other one to make the efforts, we fight about silly things but we can't help it because they bother us so much that we can't control our urge to fight. We spend time together but instead of enjoying it we spend it talking (or arguing) about everything we think is wrong, or bad in our relationship, and we end up unhappy, frustrated, unsatisfied.
Basically what happens, in my humble opinion, is that we go from no expectations to high expectations. When one first starts dating, he doesn't expect anything. So everything that comes is a good addition, a good surprise. Then, we fall into the "efforts" phase and that's always a rocky one.
Sometimes I think it's good to stop, halt, and take the time to remember that even though we're a couple, we're in love, we're "different" than all the others, we are still two people. And by that I mean that even if we'd like to believe that we are"one" we are not, in fact, one. We are two. Hence the term "we." And it's hard enough to find someone who we like to share our time with, with whom we get along most of the time and who makes us laugh --so, we should be lenient if that person doesn't want to do exactly what we want to do at the exact time we want to do it, or if that person turns out not to be able to read our minds (crazy, huh?) or if that person isn't in the mood we'd like them to be in.
Bottom line is: expect less, be happier.
Just my two cents.
Wednesday, August 29
speak your mind, woman
There's something I've been learning to do this year that's changed the way I am in a relationship, and that is: say what I mean.
It might seem odd for a man to read that. Say what you mean? You mean you lie in a relationship?
No. I don't lie. But us women, we have this tendency to not say what mean. We think we're saying it (with our tone, with our body language, with our eyes, etc.) but men tend to just hear the words coming out of our mouth.
Let's take this for example:
Thursday Night, 8pm.
Guy "You know what, I don't feel like going. Just go without me."
Girl "Oh. Ok. [Pause] Fine." Loud expiration through the nose.
Guy "Are you upset?"
Girl "No. [Yes] Why would I be upset? [Of course I'm upset you idiot. You just ditched me last minute and now I have to go alone and everyone is going to ask me where you are and I would really enjoy it a lot more if you come with me and why the hell can't you make an effort for me, I would go if it was the other way around.]
Guy "Great then. Have fun!"
They hang up the phone. Now here's what happens: Guy thinks Girl is perfectly fine* with him not going [more on that later], orders a burger, watches Lord of the Rings or a Football match, and doesn't think about it twice. Girl, on the other hand, gets dressed and goes out, all the while starting to simmer negative thoughts [I can't believe he just ditched me to stay home and watch Basketball, he never wants to spend time with me, I always have to beg him to come out, why is football more important than me...] She's out, trying to have a good time but ends up complaining about Guy who didn't come, checks her phone every ten minutes expecting an apology message, gets even more furious because she doesn't get one. By the end of the night, she's so angry she calls him throwing a million accusations his way and he doesn't know what hit him. They fight, go to bed angry, and no one really knows why.
Now, here's the truth*: Guy probably (I'm giving some the benefit of the doubt, depending on the situation) knows that Girl is upset for him not accompanying her. he could hear it in her tone, but chooses to ignore it because, hey, she said she was fine. If she was upset she should've just said so. Here's a hint Girls: Just say so. He wont have an excuse for not knowing you're upset if you say you're upset. Guys always say they "can't read out minds." Fine. Tell them what you're thinking then!
Here's how the conversation could have gone:
Guy "You know what, I don't feel like going. Just go without me."
Girl "Oh. Ok. [Pause] Fine." Loud expiration through the nose.
Guy "Are you upset?"
Girl "Yes. Why is staying at home more important than coming out with me?"
Guy "Sorry babe, I just really don't feel like going out tonight. I'm tired and all I want to do is sit back and watch TV. If you finish early, come over and join me on the couch."
Girl "Fine. Though I'm really not happy to be going alone."
Guy "I'll make it up to you. Promise."
Girl smiles even though she doesn't want to. Guy hears it. She goes, has fun, doesn't obsess about why Guy didn't come and maybe ends up joining him later for a little cuddling.
Basically overall a much better situation.
Sometimes we think we're avoiding a fight by not saying what we mean, but the truth is we're just putting it off until we explode and he doesn't get it. Even if you do get into a fight, it will be much easier to resolve on the spot and just move on.
Moral of this story: Women, speak your mind.
It might seem odd for a man to read that. Say what you mean? You mean you lie in a relationship?
No. I don't lie. But us women, we have this tendency to not say what mean. We think we're saying it (with our tone, with our body language, with our eyes, etc.) but men tend to just hear the words coming out of our mouth.
Let's take this for example:
Thursday Night, 8pm.
Guy "You know what, I don't feel like going. Just go without me."
Girl "Oh. Ok. [Pause] Fine." Loud expiration through the nose.
Guy "Are you upset?"
Girl "No. [Yes] Why would I be upset? [Of course I'm upset you idiot. You just ditched me last minute and now I have to go alone and everyone is going to ask me where you are and I would really enjoy it a lot more if you come with me and why the hell can't you make an effort for me, I would go if it was the other way around.]
Guy "Great then. Have fun!"
They hang up the phone. Now here's what happens: Guy thinks Girl is perfectly fine* with him not going [more on that later], orders a burger, watches Lord of the Rings or a Football match, and doesn't think about it twice. Girl, on the other hand, gets dressed and goes out, all the while starting to simmer negative thoughts [I can't believe he just ditched me to stay home and watch Basketball, he never wants to spend time with me, I always have to beg him to come out, why is football more important than me...] She's out, trying to have a good time but ends up complaining about Guy who didn't come, checks her phone every ten minutes expecting an apology message, gets even more furious because she doesn't get one. By the end of the night, she's so angry she calls him throwing a million accusations his way and he doesn't know what hit him. They fight, go to bed angry, and no one really knows why.
Now, here's the truth*: Guy probably (I'm giving some the benefit of the doubt, depending on the situation) knows that Girl is upset for him not accompanying her. he could hear it in her tone, but chooses to ignore it because, hey, she said she was fine. If she was upset she should've just said so. Here's a hint Girls: Just say so. He wont have an excuse for not knowing you're upset if you say you're upset. Guys always say they "can't read out minds." Fine. Tell them what you're thinking then!
Here's how the conversation could have gone:
Guy "You know what, I don't feel like going. Just go without me."
Girl "Oh. Ok. [Pause] Fine." Loud expiration through the nose.
Guy "Are you upset?"
Girl "Yes. Why is staying at home more important than coming out with me?"
Guy "Sorry babe, I just really don't feel like going out tonight. I'm tired and all I want to do is sit back and watch TV. If you finish early, come over and join me on the couch."
Girl "Fine. Though I'm really not happy to be going alone."
Guy "I'll make it up to you. Promise."
Girl smiles even though she doesn't want to. Guy hears it. She goes, has fun, doesn't obsess about why Guy didn't come and maybe ends up joining him later for a little cuddling.
Basically overall a much better situation.
Sometimes we think we're avoiding a fight by not saying what we mean, but the truth is we're just putting it off until we explode and he doesn't get it. Even if you do get into a fight, it will be much easier to resolve on the spot and just move on.
Moral of this story: Women, speak your mind.
Friday, August 17
no such thing as perfect
I realized something today. Well actually I realized it many times before but as I've been trying to come up with a smart blogpost everyday for the past week and still haven't come up with anything, I asked myself what exactly I was trying to write about anyway.
I mean, every day I browse dozens of articles on Huffington Post (they have sections on women, weddings, divorce...) I read blog posts from different people of different ages and different places, and I have at least 8 or 9 books at home also on the very same topic; in recent weeks, I've interviewed couples on the realities of marriage and I talk about this with anyone who cares to to hear different perspectives and different takes and try to boil it down to something concrete. Something useful. I'm talking about the recipe for a good relationship, of course.
And am I better girlfriend for it? I don't think so. You see what I noticed is that everyone has their own kind of relationship and you know what? There's just no labeling it. The other day I read a post on open relationships and although in some way it seems like a smart solution to the modern couple, it is also impossible for me to actually imagine having it. But then again, when a gay friend of mine explains to me that wanting and having sexual intercourse with men other than his boyfriend has absolutely nothing to do with his love for him and their relationship, I understand it. I even accept it. Although I would never accept it for me. And all these questions we try to find answers to: should we move in together? I mean statistically is that better or worse for your couple on the long run? Because I read an article that confused the hell out of me and all I got from it is that it works for some people and doesn't work for others... Big surprise. Well what about marriage? How soon is too soon? Can we have a baby without getting married? Look at Angelina and Brad --it took 6 kids from 4 different countries before she agreed to wear a ring. But then again if you do that in Lebanon than your child will be registered as a bastard and society as a whole will "frown upon" you.
I look around and see the people surrounding me and I honestly can't compare my relationship to any of theirs. Although the patterns are similar and the feelings are similar, it's never like 2+2. So what's the point, right? If none of us have the same story and if advice doesn't apply to everyone, then why read books and why write this blog? I think that by sharing, we learn more about ourselves. We take the things that do apply and adapt them the way we see fit. Trial and error and tears, and maybe you'll end up with your own recipe. Just note that you'll probably have to change it with the next person in your life.
I mean, every day I browse dozens of articles on Huffington Post (they have sections on women, weddings, divorce...) I read blog posts from different people of different ages and different places, and I have at least 8 or 9 books at home also on the very same topic; in recent weeks, I've interviewed couples on the realities of marriage and I talk about this with anyone who cares to to hear different perspectives and different takes and try to boil it down to something concrete. Something useful. I'm talking about the recipe for a good relationship, of course.
And am I better girlfriend for it? I don't think so. You see what I noticed is that everyone has their own kind of relationship and you know what? There's just no labeling it. The other day I read a post on open relationships and although in some way it seems like a smart solution to the modern couple, it is also impossible for me to actually imagine having it. But then again, when a gay friend of mine explains to me that wanting and having sexual intercourse with men other than his boyfriend has absolutely nothing to do with his love for him and their relationship, I understand it. I even accept it. Although I would never accept it for me. And all these questions we try to find answers to: should we move in together? I mean statistically is that better or worse for your couple on the long run? Because I read an article that confused the hell out of me and all I got from it is that it works for some people and doesn't work for others... Big surprise. Well what about marriage? How soon is too soon? Can we have a baby without getting married? Look at Angelina and Brad --it took 6 kids from 4 different countries before she agreed to wear a ring. But then again if you do that in Lebanon than your child will be registered as a bastard and society as a whole will "frown upon" you.
I look around and see the people surrounding me and I honestly can't compare my relationship to any of theirs. Although the patterns are similar and the feelings are similar, it's never like 2+2. So what's the point, right? If none of us have the same story and if advice doesn't apply to everyone, then why read books and why write this blog? I think that by sharing, we learn more about ourselves. We take the things that do apply and adapt them the way we see fit. Trial and error and tears, and maybe you'll end up with your own recipe. Just note that you'll probably have to change it with the next person in your life.
Thursday, August 2
got one!
I was browsing through Pinterest and saw this:
Funny.
But more seriously: oh so true. I mean the relief of every bride out there telling herself that "phewww, I got one" is palpable. Just like the stress of unmarried girls between the ages of 25 to 35 is one you can cut through with a knife. And the social pressure of it all makes it so that if you are 27, not at all "stressed" about ending up a "spinster" and without the hint of a white dress on your mind, everyone else around you makes it so that you will be stressed, one way or another. I went to Italy with my Parisian for two weeks and at least 4 people asked me if he had proposed. No, he didn't propose. We've only been together 7 months. He doesn't even believe in marriage, and frankly, neither do I, I would only get married to have kids.
But there it is: the stress factor. So did you get one yet? Or are you going to end up alone for the rest of your life? Well I don't mean to be the Grinch that stole weddings, but seriously, "getting one," even on paper, even on holy scriptures, it really doesn't mean that you wont end up alone anyway.
Take this for example: the other day I was sitting with three women: my aunt, my dad's girlfriend and my uncle's girlfriend, and they were telling me how: one of them was married at 19 and divorced by the time she was my age (27), the other was the last of her friends to be married (at 30) and the first to be divorced (at 32), and my dear aunt who got married at 31 lost her husband to Cancer 8 months ago, making her a widow at the ripe age of 53, and has to spend the rest of her life alone, even though she had a good one. But, my dad and his girlfriend have been together for 10 years now, and they might very well be together for the rest of their lives, and yet they don't feel the need to get married at all. It's like once you're passed a certain age, and you've already been divorced, then no one will pressure you about it.
Well, I say no pressure from the start. Seriously, I mean, if you want to get married and believe it's the right thing for you, then by all means, have your perfect day and hopefully a happily ever after marriage. But for all the others, I really believe we need to tone down the social pressure. It no longer makes any sense in this day an age and honestly, it breaks more couples (and morale) than it makes brides and grooms. Women start pressuring their significant others because they are pressured by their moms, dads, aunts, sisters, and because they see all their girlfriends getting married and they don't want to be the last one to go --it makes them feel like they failed the pre-set story board of life, that's been told to them ever since they were little girls. And men also feel the pressure from their girlfriends and their parents and they might end up proposing even if it's not really what they want or what they are ready for. And then what happens? Divorce rates in Lebanon have risen from 13% in 2000 to 20% in 2011, and that's only considering religious marriages. I have two divorced friends and they're not even 30 years old.
I think you only really "get one" if you've spent ten, fifteen, twenty years of your life as a couple and still want to be together. I think you deserve a huge party and a wedding and fireworks when you've made it that far, when you've been through thick and thin and stuck together, when life has tried and failed you, and you've both come out on top.
But more seriously: oh so true. I mean the relief of every bride out there telling herself that "phewww, I got one" is palpable. Just like the stress of unmarried girls between the ages of 25 to 35 is one you can cut through with a knife. And the social pressure of it all makes it so that if you are 27, not at all "stressed" about ending up a "spinster" and without the hint of a white dress on your mind, everyone else around you makes it so that you will be stressed, one way or another. I went to Italy with my Parisian for two weeks and at least 4 people asked me if he had proposed. No, he didn't propose. We've only been together 7 months. He doesn't even believe in marriage, and frankly, neither do I, I would only get married to have kids.
But there it is: the stress factor. So did you get one yet? Or are you going to end up alone for the rest of your life? Well I don't mean to be the Grinch that stole weddings, but seriously, "getting one," even on paper, even on holy scriptures, it really doesn't mean that you wont end up alone anyway.
Take this for example: the other day I was sitting with three women: my aunt, my dad's girlfriend and my uncle's girlfriend, and they were telling me how: one of them was married at 19 and divorced by the time she was my age (27), the other was the last of her friends to be married (at 30) and the first to be divorced (at 32), and my dear aunt who got married at 31 lost her husband to Cancer 8 months ago, making her a widow at the ripe age of 53, and has to spend the rest of her life alone, even though she had a good one. But, my dad and his girlfriend have been together for 10 years now, and they might very well be together for the rest of their lives, and yet they don't feel the need to get married at all. It's like once you're passed a certain age, and you've already been divorced, then no one will pressure you about it.
Well, I say no pressure from the start. Seriously, I mean, if you want to get married and believe it's the right thing for you, then by all means, have your perfect day and hopefully a happily ever after marriage. But for all the others, I really believe we need to tone down the social pressure. It no longer makes any sense in this day an age and honestly, it breaks more couples (and morale) than it makes brides and grooms. Women start pressuring their significant others because they are pressured by their moms, dads, aunts, sisters, and because they see all their girlfriends getting married and they don't want to be the last one to go --it makes them feel like they failed the pre-set story board of life, that's been told to them ever since they were little girls. And men also feel the pressure from their girlfriends and their parents and they might end up proposing even if it's not really what they want or what they are ready for. And then what happens? Divorce rates in Lebanon have risen from 13% in 2000 to 20% in 2011, and that's only considering religious marriages. I have two divorced friends and they're not even 30 years old.
I think you only really "get one" if you've spent ten, fifteen, twenty years of your life as a couple and still want to be together. I think you deserve a huge party and a wedding and fireworks when you've made it that far, when you've been through thick and thin and stuck together, when life has tried and failed you, and you've both come out on top.
Tuesday, May 8
feeding the status quo
I've been writing on this blog for over a year and a half, and sometimes I get terrified by the fact that I have nothing to say anymore. The truth is, when I began, I wanted to find a way to push my writing and get me to write a novel, which is basically my dream.
And I thought, "Beirut Rhapsodies," well that should be fun. I had a bunch of single friends who always had some kind of story about that girl or about that guy, I thought Beirut was this endless source of fun stories that I would always be able to incorporate in my blogs. I was wrong though. After a while, stories run dry.
The problem with this city is that we live in a box. As a person of a certain social class, it is very unlikely that you ever find yourself with people from different social backgrounds. It's not like in other big cities where anyone and everyone find each other uncomfortably close on a subway ride.
In the Beirut I live in, there are clear boundaries and there are walls closing in on us. Everywhere you go, you see the same faces, week after week, month after month, year after year. Someone told me the other day they went to White and "it was the exact same people sitting at the exact same tables" as last year, and that is a scary thought. But it's true. You go to any bar or night-club or rooftop bar --because frankly, there is not much else to do-- and you know exactly who to expect. And then you have the same conversations over and over again. And when you overhear someone else's conversation, you realize that they are talking about the same thing too.
As a writer, you get inspired by other people, by places and encounters. You feed off other people's conversations, you meet someone who will tell you a story, you see something that gives you an idea. Sometimes you just need to take a walk and look at things happening around you to get creative. Other times you just want to sit under a tree in a park and read a book to get your mind flowing. But here we have no parks. And if you take a walk in the street you spend half your time ignoring the idiotic sexual purrs of every other guy passing you by and the other half trying not to get run over. And although some people try, very hard to bring some culture to this country, by opening an art center or by throwing a film festival, it is very unlikely that it will get as much attention as a new fashionista clothing store, another Lebanese designs jewelry shop, or the latest bar in town.
This is what we do here: We take the status quo and we feed it, so that it becomes more snob and more blase, more induced in that heartbreaking comfort zone and more lazy, until we do nothing but try to make enough money to keep a lifestyle we're not sure we enjoy. Our lives revolve around relationships and jobs, and for many girls, about appearance and body image. It is what makes for most of our conversations, except on Sunday when we have a family lunch and someone has the grand idea to talk about politics.
And then we say we have the greatest country in the world. We can infamously "swim and ski" in the same day and the sun is out 9 months a year. But what's the point? We're so beyond closed up there are still people who decide to cross the street when the light turns green. And it's our own fault really. We find excuses for everything: We had 25 years of war goddammit. We need people of action in government in stead of a bunch of grumpy old men who want to settle their own personal scores but we're the ones who can't let go of them and keep them in office. We don't want to learn how to recycle or wear our seat-belts before more important things in the country are taken care of, because what's the point? And it's never, never our own fault.
The bigger problem is, we act the same way with our own lives. We drown in our own comfort zone, we stay safe, we get lazy. We complain but don't do anything about it, hoping someone else will. And secretly also hoping they wont, because change scares us and we're not sure we can handle it.
And I thought, "Beirut Rhapsodies," well that should be fun. I had a bunch of single friends who always had some kind of story about that girl or about that guy, I thought Beirut was this endless source of fun stories that I would always be able to incorporate in my blogs. I was wrong though. After a while, stories run dry.
The problem with this city is that we live in a box. As a person of a certain social class, it is very unlikely that you ever find yourself with people from different social backgrounds. It's not like in other big cities where anyone and everyone find each other uncomfortably close on a subway ride.
In the Beirut I live in, there are clear boundaries and there are walls closing in on us. Everywhere you go, you see the same faces, week after week, month after month, year after year. Someone told me the other day they went to White and "it was the exact same people sitting at the exact same tables" as last year, and that is a scary thought. But it's true. You go to any bar or night-club or rooftop bar --because frankly, there is not much else to do-- and you know exactly who to expect. And then you have the same conversations over and over again. And when you overhear someone else's conversation, you realize that they are talking about the same thing too.
As a writer, you get inspired by other people, by places and encounters. You feed off other people's conversations, you meet someone who will tell you a story, you see something that gives you an idea. Sometimes you just need to take a walk and look at things happening around you to get creative. Other times you just want to sit under a tree in a park and read a book to get your mind flowing. But here we have no parks. And if you take a walk in the street you spend half your time ignoring the idiotic sexual purrs of every other guy passing you by and the other half trying not to get run over. And although some people try, very hard to bring some culture to this country, by opening an art center or by throwing a film festival, it is very unlikely that it will get as much attention as a new fashionista clothing store, another Lebanese designs jewelry shop, or the latest bar in town.
This is what we do here: We take the status quo and we feed it, so that it becomes more snob and more blase, more induced in that heartbreaking comfort zone and more lazy, until we do nothing but try to make enough money to keep a lifestyle we're not sure we enjoy. Our lives revolve around relationships and jobs, and for many girls, about appearance and body image. It is what makes for most of our conversations, except on Sunday when we have a family lunch and someone has the grand idea to talk about politics.
And then we say we have the greatest country in the world. We can infamously "swim and ski" in the same day and the sun is out 9 months a year. But what's the point? We're so beyond closed up there are still people who decide to cross the street when the light turns green. And it's our own fault really. We find excuses for everything: We had 25 years of war goddammit. We need people of action in government in stead of a bunch of grumpy old men who want to settle their own personal scores but we're the ones who can't let go of them and keep them in office. We don't want to learn how to recycle or wear our seat-belts before more important things in the country are taken care of, because what's the point? And it's never, never our own fault.
The bigger problem is, we act the same way with our own lives. We drown in our own comfort zone, we stay safe, we get lazy. We complain but don't do anything about it, hoping someone else will. And secretly also hoping they wont, because change scares us and we're not sure we can handle it.
Monday, November 7
when you've got the face on
There is a song from Arctic Monkeys, "Mardy Bum," that I find absolutely perfect in the sense that it describes the exact way we react when we're are pissed off at our boyfriends. And that exact feeling is the one reason I'm happy I'm not in a relationship right now.
Basically we all start off happy. We start off playful and full of humor and everything he does makes us smile. We find the way he chews so cute, and when he's late to pick us up we're just that much happier to see him because we missed him so much more when we were waiting for him that extra half hour, and when he goes off on a guy's night we're A-ok with it and we cheerfully go on a girl's night too. And then comes the point in the relationship when all these things that never got to us start getting to us. And we start putting "the face on." He takes one look at us and he knows he's in trouble again because we're in our corner pulling that silent disappointment face.
It's the face we get when he forgets to do something we asked, when we think he talked to that girl more than he talked to us the other night, when he says something out of place in front of other people, or when he's late to our date-night because he forgot about it even though we reminded him twenty times in the last week. And so we can't help but pull the silent treatment, waiting for him to realize he's done something wrong and apologize. He says he's sorry he was late, the traffic was a state and he can't be arsed to carry on in this debate that reoccurs and we get mad because he doesn't care and then he gets mad because we said that. And then instead of taking advantage of the time we have together, we spend an hour silent, another hour arguing, and finally, in the third hour, we make-up and make-out.
But then, slowly, you realize that we put on that face more than any other. It becomes who we are in this relationship and we don't like who we've become and they don't like who we've become and everything starts to change. The times when we'd laugh and joke around and cuddled in the kitchen are what we are striving to get back to, and we have a hard time accepting that we've entered this "comfort zone" and maybe he's taking us for granted and maybe we're taking him for granted and the more we fight it the harder it becomes to get back to that special place.
I did that a lot in my last relationship. I spent so much energy being upset I forgot to enjoy the present moment and soon enough it was hard to remember why we were still trying. It's a mistake, I think, to get caught up in those little things and let them ruin the "us" that was so happy to begin with. Maybe if we spend more energy smiling instead of frowning, then we'd be happier as a whole. Something I'd like to try my next time around.
Basically we all start off happy. We start off playful and full of humor and everything he does makes us smile. We find the way he chews so cute, and when he's late to pick us up we're just that much happier to see him because we missed him so much more when we were waiting for him that extra half hour, and when he goes off on a guy's night we're A-ok with it and we cheerfully go on a girl's night too. And then comes the point in the relationship when all these things that never got to us start getting to us. And we start putting "the face on." He takes one look at us and he knows he's in trouble again because we're in our corner pulling that silent disappointment face.
It's the face we get when he forgets to do something we asked, when we think he talked to that girl more than he talked to us the other night, when he says something out of place in front of other people, or when he's late to our date-night because he forgot about it even though we reminded him twenty times in the last week. And so we can't help but pull the silent treatment, waiting for him to realize he's done something wrong and apologize. He says he's sorry he was late, the traffic was a state and he can't be arsed to carry on in this debate that reoccurs and we get mad because he doesn't care and then he gets mad because we said that. And then instead of taking advantage of the time we have together, we spend an hour silent, another hour arguing, and finally, in the third hour, we make-up and make-out.
But then, slowly, you realize that we put on that face more than any other. It becomes who we are in this relationship and we don't like who we've become and they don't like who we've become and everything starts to change. The times when we'd laugh and joke around and cuddled in the kitchen are what we are striving to get back to, and we have a hard time accepting that we've entered this "comfort zone" and maybe he's taking us for granted and maybe we're taking him for granted and the more we fight it the harder it becomes to get back to that special place.
I did that a lot in my last relationship. I spent so much energy being upset I forgot to enjoy the present moment and soon enough it was hard to remember why we were still trying. It's a mistake, I think, to get caught up in those little things and let them ruin the "us" that was so happy to begin with. Maybe if we spend more energy smiling instead of frowning, then we'd be happier as a whole. Something I'd like to try my next time around.
Wednesday, September 21
one year of rhapsodies
Last year like today I wrote my first blog post, venting out my frustrations over 21st century relationships and how hard they were becoming. This is how started my year of rhapsodies. Three weeks after the first post, my boyfriend told me he realized that he would probably be happier without me. How ironic for me who was trying to "solve" the enigma of serious relationships, not realizing that if my relationship was going sour it was probably time to breakup. I'm glad he noticed though. Because otherwise I wouldn't have had the wonderful amazing life changing year that I did have from that moment on. Yes I started by crying every tear in my body, analyzed and over-analyzed every second of the previous six months to understand what I did wrong, how I could've saved it, blaming myself for letting him take me for granted, for not loosing weight, for getting too comfortable, until I finally realized that it wasn't just me who didn't make him happy anymore, that I too had been miserable for months. And that realization saved me. So I stopped with the blame game and finally moved on to the next level which was to focus on myself and what I wanted, for me. Yes I had a pile a self-help books before that and the pile tripled over the course of the next few months, because that's what I do, I read books and they make me feel like I'm going to change my life. The good news is, it worked.
I started the blog, friends began to read and share it, debate it around drinks, Rats inspired me to wiesel them in, I was motivated to write again --something I hadn't done in years. Then there was the Breakup, the depression phase, the best-friend moving to Canada, the constant hammering of the Rats for their help on how to get over it, the hours on the phone with Classy who was going through the same thing, the going through about seven dozen used and confused boxes of tissues. Went to Yoga class, took Italian lessons, traveled to Istanbul with friends. Fell in love with a city full of life and history and beauty and rhythm, realized the world was a lot bigger than me and that the possibilities were endless, started smiling again, had the best massage on the face of the earth and it felt better than sex. Reconnected with my childhood friend Rebellious, whom I hadn't seen a lot in the last few years, enjoyed going out again, enjoyed drinking, enjoyed my friends' company more. Wrote a blog-post about my parents which got 900 views. Liked a guy, flirted, kissed him, felt good to be in the "beginning" phase again. Liked other guys, enjoyed being hit on, piled up stories that the Rats laughed about and fed my blog. Went skiing for the first time in four years. Organized a cooking competition that lasted all winter, came in last place but had lots of fun getting there. Made a new friend, a girl, which is very unlikely of me. Asked a friend if I could act in her new TV series [Beirut, I love you] just for the fun of it, spent a day on set, fell in love with everyone, wanted to come back, started helping with anything and everything, spent every weekend on set and many evenings brainstorming scripts, did the makeup, helped with anything I could, made some amazing new friends, felt like I was 19 again, drank beers on the street sitting on the hood of a car, kissed a guy who fell, got obsessed with the shoots, was passionate again. Realized my oldest dream had come true. Marked the ten-year anniversary of my mother's death. Saw my ex for the first time since we broke-up, realized that I wasn't angry anymore and that I didn't miss him even though it was awkward and weird but how could it not be. Turned 26 in Los Angeles, walked into the Kodak Theater where the Oscars take place, went to Vegas and then San Francisco with my best friend, ate the best brunch in the world --felt like I cheated on New York. Took part in the 48hr film project in Beirut and won Best Film, felt like we had just won Cannes, smiled from ear to ear jumped up and down was overly excited. Saw my ex kiss his new girlfriend felt like throwing up in my mouth a litte but then finally felt free. Had the most overwhelming kiss of my life. Read 17 books, took an acting class, jumped from a rock 3 meters high into the sea, went camping, saw the Cedars, got a tattoo, acted a main part in a short film, discovered "The Healing Code" (everyone should read it by the way), cried of laughter until my abs were killing me and I almost couldn't breathe and got the best compliment of my life from a gay friend of mine who said to me: "Women like you make me wish I was straight."
Nothing about this year was as expected. Three-hundred and sixty-five days ago, I lived in a safe routine that I didn't realize was killing every ounce of creativity and passion I had. When writing scripts, we always look for a "catalyst," something that pushes the protagonist forward. This blog was my catalyst. I thought it would help me write a book --and I still hope it will. But now I know that I needed this time to really discover myself, and this is what got the ball rolling. This year I felt alive.
So thanks. To everyone who played a part in this snowball effect of amazingly random events. And to all of you who have been reading Beirut Rhapsodies, inspiring and motivating me.
I started the blog, friends began to read and share it, debate it around drinks, Rats inspired me to wiesel them in, I was motivated to write again --something I hadn't done in years. Then there was the Breakup, the depression phase, the best-friend moving to Canada, the constant hammering of the Rats for their help on how to get over it, the hours on the phone with Classy who was going through the same thing, the going through about seven dozen used and confused boxes of tissues. Went to Yoga class, took Italian lessons, traveled to Istanbul with friends. Fell in love with a city full of life and history and beauty and rhythm, realized the world was a lot bigger than me and that the possibilities were endless, started smiling again, had the best massage on the face of the earth and it felt better than sex. Reconnected with my childhood friend Rebellious, whom I hadn't seen a lot in the last few years, enjoyed going out again, enjoyed drinking, enjoyed my friends' company more. Wrote a blog-post about my parents which got 900 views. Liked a guy, flirted, kissed him, felt good to be in the "beginning" phase again. Liked other guys, enjoyed being hit on, piled up stories that the Rats laughed about and fed my blog. Went skiing for the first time in four years. Organized a cooking competition that lasted all winter, came in last place but had lots of fun getting there. Made a new friend, a girl, which is very unlikely of me. Asked a friend if I could act in her new TV series [Beirut, I love you] just for the fun of it, spent a day on set, fell in love with everyone, wanted to come back, started helping with anything and everything, spent every weekend on set and many evenings brainstorming scripts, did the makeup, helped with anything I could, made some amazing new friends, felt like I was 19 again, drank beers on the street sitting on the hood of a car, kissed a guy who fell, got obsessed with the shoots, was passionate again. Realized my oldest dream had come true. Marked the ten-year anniversary of my mother's death. Saw my ex for the first time since we broke-up, realized that I wasn't angry anymore and that I didn't miss him even though it was awkward and weird but how could it not be. Turned 26 in Los Angeles, walked into the Kodak Theater where the Oscars take place, went to Vegas and then San Francisco with my best friend, ate the best brunch in the world --felt like I cheated on New York. Took part in the 48hr film project in Beirut and won Best Film, felt like we had just won Cannes, smiled from ear to ear jumped up and down was overly excited. Saw my ex kiss his new girlfriend felt like throwing up in my mouth a litte but then finally felt free. Had the most overwhelming kiss of my life. Read 17 books, took an acting class, jumped from a rock 3 meters high into the sea, went camping, saw the Cedars, got a tattoo, acted a main part in a short film, discovered "The Healing Code" (everyone should read it by the way), cried of laughter until my abs were killing me and I almost couldn't breathe and got the best compliment of my life from a gay friend of mine who said to me: "Women like you make me wish I was straight."
Nothing about this year was as expected. Three-hundred and sixty-five days ago, I lived in a safe routine that I didn't realize was killing every ounce of creativity and passion I had. When writing scripts, we always look for a "catalyst," something that pushes the protagonist forward. This blog was my catalyst. I thought it would help me write a book --and I still hope it will. But now I know that I needed this time to really discover myself, and this is what got the ball rolling. This year I felt alive.
So thanks. To everyone who played a part in this snowball effect of amazingly random events. And to all of you who have been reading Beirut Rhapsodies, inspiring and motivating me.
Monday, September 12
there are no love stories like in the movies
I have a friend who still believes in love like in the movies. She dreams of passion that would last through decades, that would survive routine and babies and boredom and age, that would awaken sparkles in her eyes even ten, twenty, fifty years down the line. She believes in the happily ever after and she doesn't want to settle for less. Afterall, she's seen it happen. In "The Notebook."
Now last week, I acted in a short film. And it was a love story --like in the movies. I met the actor who I had to fall in love with at 7am Sunday morning and by Sunday afternoon he was proposing on a beach with the sunset in the background. And the truth is when we were acting it out we kept laughing at how weird the whole situation was and how we felt like in a Mexican TV Series, but on screen it just looks like we're happy in love. I saw the footage and it looked so amazing that even I believed it for a second. And the entire film is condensed quick-shots of the evolution of a love that is born, grows, flickers and dies. It travels through time, skips through the boring parts, only shows the audience what they want to see. Think about all the moments of love you've had in you life. If you just edit them and add some amazing soundtrack and tie everything together, you've got your own film.
But there are no love stories like
in the movies. In real life, love stories are only felt in glimpses, in moments
captured in a sort of capsule that only last in our memories. Love is not
perfect. It is not gentle, it is not kind, it is not forgiving. Love is a mess
of passionate turns that leave you hanging on the edge of a cliff. It's a roller-coaster that goes up and down and sideways turns your life around and scares the shit out of you all the while giving you the greatest rush of your life.
This year that I spent out of love was the best way for me to finally understand it. I recognize it now better than ever, and I've learned to appreciate it as what it is: discontinued and rough around the edges. Many a times, it doesn't come inside a wrapped-up package with a pretty bow. And I had a glimpse of it, I think. There's someone was in my life for years and every time I saw him my heart skipped a beat, but it was never good timing for us. And the truth is, I know deep down that if we had gone for it and tried being together, I wouldn't have been happy. But when I was with him for a glimpse of time, I know we had something special. If we had turned this glimpse into a relationship, then I'm afraid it would've spoiled it. So I chose to keep it special: Even now, I can close my eyes and always smile when I think of him, and I just appreciate it for what it is: a love story that could've been.
Thursday, August 25
[Beirut RATsodies] The Manception List: Keys to a man's mind
Keeping on with the promise to bring Rat perspective to the blog, today my dear friend is giving us ladies the "keys to a man's mind." The keys to men like him anyway. And the truth is, he's one of those coveted men that grab the attention of all the girls in the room. And with the scarcity of available guys out there, I guess if you find the right one, you should know how to play your cards right.
Dear Rhapsodies followers,
I am a Rat. More specifically, the one whom this blog’s writer gracefully baptized as “Wise Rat”. Don’t really know if there’s any actual wisdom or if our dear host is so desperate that she can find it in a Rat, but whatever it is, I’ll try to pass it on here while trying to be as gentle as I can and not offend any of you non-rats for I am a guest today...
The Rhapsodies have covered a lot of different and diverse topics, some accurate, some useless, some fun, some completely biased, but the one common and constant trait is the appalling lack of knowledge of the man’s mind. Therefore, instead of picking one topic, I will kindly contribute with one the greatest sacrifices I believe to be: The Self Help Book approach. While truly despising the “How to get over him in 3 weeks” family of “literary” works, I’ll be listing some simple Dos and Donts that will give you the key set of the male’s mind. Ladies, I proudly give you: THE MANCEPTION LIST (to be kept in your purses at all times).
DOS:
1. Humor
Nothing is more appealing than a funny girl. NOT a party girl, but an actual funny girl. That’s the one we would consider spending the rest of our lives with. Laugh about things with him and laugh at him. Great humor is raw intelligence; men who are scared of smart chicks will accept it under the form of humor. My personal perfect ideal fantasy is a Mila Kunis meets Dave Chappelle.
2. Be Real
That’s universal, come on. No pun intended, but you tend to over think things, which clouds your judgment, behavior or in some cases your entire persona. That’s a time bomb. Typical scenario: She acts different in the early stages > he gets comfy > she goes back to her true self > he’s disappointed, > he leaves > she’s left asking herself who and what to hate for that. Major DON’T.
3. Chivalry
Own up to your modern woman status along with the traditional touch. It’s a beautiful balance. I call it modern chivalry for chicas: OFFER to pay (but don’t actually do it), be concerned when he’s ill and get him some bullshit medicine. My personal favorite: A girl who holds the door for me once in a while (I stress on the occasional element). Man up ladies.
4. Be Anal
The anus, The Glory Hole, The Sweet Eye, The Great Gatsby, The Velvet Ring. Use it and let it inspire you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not pushing for systematic sodomy, but more of a symbol to keep things in bed adventurous, spiced up and simply open minded to new experiences. “Open” being the key word here...
5. Get some Boxes
The fact is that men are more of rational creatures and women emotional. With the good and bad included in both, these two traits tend to clash. By that I mean that men actually have the ability to compartmentalize things and women are more global in their approach. Imagine boxes versus a giant messy purse. Men can organize their lives in a number of boxes: work, friends, relationships, family...etc. If one of those goes sour, it won’t affect the rest, whereas women, while being much more sharp emotionally and with higher sensibility will possibly collapse in tears at a red light if the day at work was stressful and a Counting Crows song came up on the radio which will remind them of that prick who didn’t call last week. Bottom line: Try to get your boxes right.
DONTS
1. Victimize
We’re all victims of something at some point. Let’s all try not to linger over rejection, disappointment or debilitating egos people.
2. Change Anyone (you or him)
You are not the one who will tame a player, or get a “badass” to become a family man. This is the recipe for disaster. If he’s lazy, drinks a lot, not very outgoing or not interested in modern art, either accept those as his traits or run away, just don’t hang on to the fantasy of a “better version him”
3. Be Anal
As opposed to your lovely waxed organ (see the point above under “Be Anal”), try to read your man and not unleash all hell on him when you could save millions of lives in terms of troubles. E.g: while getting ready to go out: Him:“Babe are you done? We need to leave soon”. Her: Cold look. Silent treatment all night. Bring up “That” ex during pillow talk at the end of the night.
4. Hand Jobs
This is NOT your place. The hand job exercise is a male sanctuary. Angle, shapes, body structures are all a part of this male only puzzle. It’s not a wooden stick, nor a pet, so please don’t be over zealous when attempting it. Plus, it always shows how bored you guys are when you’re at it.
5. Settle for less
I’ll finish on a high note and empower you ladies. Most of the ear raping complaints I get from you come from the fact a lot settle for some douche bag or loser, which you don’t really want in the first place. Know what you want, see the red flags, don’t compromise and you can throw this whole list away. Being alone ain’t all that bad and can save us all some time and money on “I need to talk coffees and lunches“ and this entire blog in the process.
Hope this helps,
Wise rat.
Monday, July 11
I flirt therefor I am
Flirting is an art in and of itself. I'd say it's a new, modern form of art, as before the twentieth century, there wasn't much room for flirting. But now it's all we do. We flirt with the policeman who dared stop us because we were on the phone while driving and he ends up by asking for our phone number. True story. We flirt with the guy at US customs so he doesn't give us trouble because of our Lebanese passport and he ends up asking if "you need someone to show you around the city?" True story. We flirt with a teacher because we failed an exam. We flirt with the bartender because we want to get two seats on the bar and it's Saturday night. We flirt with the bouncer to get us into Skybar, we flirt with the DJ to get him to play "our song," and here is the magic of it all: girls flirt all the time, pretty much to get anything. Guys on the other hand, mostly flirt for one purpose: getting laid.
Here's where it gets interesting: make a guy think he has a slight chance of getting some, and he will pretty much do whatever you want, within the realms of reason. And sometimes way above.
Now every girl has her own flirting strategies. I have a friend whose tactics involve breaking a guy down. She basically stands there and verbally attacks him until all he wants is to take her to bed. She calls him an idiot, she mocks every other word he says, she puts herself up on a pedestal and boom: the guy is bending backwards and forwards trying to make body contact. I was actually getting uncomfortable by her harshness, but he said it made her "interesting." Go figure.
Another girl I know will always make a guy feel like he's the most amazing man in the world. She will laugh at everything he says, open her eyes wide when he mentions he works in private banking, she will strategically place her hand on his chest several time during the conversation and bam: the guy wants her to show the same kind of attention to the part of him growing in his pants.
Flirting is fun. And when you're in a relationship, it's something you miss. Remember that episode of Friends when Chandler tries to flirt with the pizza delivery girl, and Monica says she's not jealous because she flirts with guys all the time? We flirt all the time because it gives us a sense of validation. I flirt, you respond, I feel like I still got it. There is this guy I know who was sick for several months, and as he got better and his looks came back to normal, the only thing he wanted to do was test his flirting and see if it still had the same effect. He left his girlfriend because she couldn't give him that validation.
It's too bad we forget to keep flirting with our boyfriends. Make him work for sleeping with you tonight instead of having sex on the dot like it's part of a routine. My aunt, who has been happily married for 23 years says she still flirts with her husband every day. And what happens? he flirts back. Moral of the story: keep treating your man as if he wasn't, and you'll live happily ever after.
Here's where it gets interesting: make a guy think he has a slight chance of getting some, and he will pretty much do whatever you want, within the realms of reason. And sometimes way above.
Now every girl has her own flirting strategies. I have a friend whose tactics involve breaking a guy down. She basically stands there and verbally attacks him until all he wants is to take her to bed. She calls him an idiot, she mocks every other word he says, she puts herself up on a pedestal and boom: the guy is bending backwards and forwards trying to make body contact. I was actually getting uncomfortable by her harshness, but he said it made her "interesting." Go figure.
Another girl I know will always make a guy feel like he's the most amazing man in the world. She will laugh at everything he says, open her eyes wide when he mentions he works in private banking, she will strategically place her hand on his chest several time during the conversation and bam: the guy wants her to show the same kind of attention to the part of him growing in his pants.
Flirting is fun. And when you're in a relationship, it's something you miss. Remember that episode of Friends when Chandler tries to flirt with the pizza delivery girl, and Monica says she's not jealous because she flirts with guys all the time? We flirt all the time because it gives us a sense of validation. I flirt, you respond, I feel like I still got it. There is this guy I know who was sick for several months, and as he got better and his looks came back to normal, the only thing he wanted to do was test his flirting and see if it still had the same effect. He left his girlfriend because she couldn't give him that validation.
It's too bad we forget to keep flirting with our boyfriends. Make him work for sleeping with you tonight instead of having sex on the dot like it's part of a routine. My aunt, who has been happily married for 23 years says she still flirts with her husband every day. And what happens? he flirts back. Moral of the story: keep treating your man as if he wasn't, and you'll live happily ever after.
Thursday, April 28
Beirut RATShodies: Fictional Friction
It's that time of the month again. I've asked the boys to weigh in and give their own views from time to time, so that every one gets a say and I keep things on an even field... This month's guest blogger is my dear friend, Lupe Don Pappa. I assure you, he is the one who came up with his own pseudonym, as I would have never, in my wildest imaginative creations, could've come up with a name like that... In any case, Lupe Don Pappa has decided to give us his own take on "friends with benefits," a topic I actually wanted to write about before, but had no personal experience on the matter...
Today’s topic of conversation will revolve around a concept so often misunderstood, so easily misjudged, yet a concept that brings such joy to both parties involved .. the concept of “The Friend with Benefits”.
For those who have never heard of it, friends with benefit(s) (it’s really only one additional benefit) are “friends by day, sex partners by night”, “typically two good friends who have casual sex without a monogamous relationship or any kind of commitment”. What a great concept. (Friendship + sex) – (commitment + feelings) - It’s basically a care free way of enjoying life.
Before getting into too much detail, it is important to point out that the concept of a friend with benefits differs substantially from a “fuck friend” or “fuck buddy”. The etymology of the words says it all - a fuck friend is a fuck before a friend. A friend with benefits is a friend before a benefit. Therefore, a friend with benefits should always be treated as a friend first and foremost, with the utmost respect. Other basics for a healthy “friends with benefits” relationship:
- Avoid the drama - Pick a good friend, (not someone in a relationship – relationships = drama). You need to be sexually aroused by that person and need to be sure that person has, at some point in her life, pictured you naked
- This is not a test drive – Throw expectations out the door. This is not a way to test drive the car before deciding if you want to actually purchase it. This is a mutually beneficial relationship based on SEX and FRIENDSHIP. You start on the wrong foot, someone is bound to get hurt
- Lay down the law – Communicate with your partner before you start. After all, you guys are friends before “fuckers”. Be explicit about the needs and wants, you are not roofy’ing someone in a night club. Rules and regulations are good, don’t break them
- Keep it on the down low – Don’t go brag about it to your friends; keep it a secret (at least in the beginning). No one cares who you’re sleeping with. Seriously.
- Don’t ask don’t tell – It’s none of your business where he was last night or who he was with. He is allowed to see other people, so are you... No need for explanations, just be respectful and don’t splash it in each other’s faces (literal splashing in faces not included)
- Have a signal that’s just your own – Chose a word or an expression that insinuates you need it right now. Like at this exact moment. No one else can know what it is. It’s your little secret.
Now that you’ve determined how to build and maintain that relationship it’s crucial to make sure you are dealing with the right person. Ladies and Gentlemen, below please find 6 basic rules on picking the right friend with benefits:
- Post-Breakup – Any girl that just came out of a relationship is in a state of fragility and needs some extra loving. She is lacking serotonin in her brain, that’s a smart word for the happy hormone. Make sure you’re there to fill her right up
- Just Hot – Any girl (or guy for that matter) that is so hot that the thought of them not getting laid is just implausible
- Daddy’s Girl – Any girl with serious daddy issues, because they always appreciate a good spanking
- FM Pumps – Any girl that wears high heels more than 4 days a week / any guy that unbuttons 2 or more of his buttons and smells like he just got out of the perfume section of Harvey Nichols is a definite candidate (which basically means any Lebanese dude on the planet)
- Fictional Friction – Any girl / guy you’ve masturbated to in the last 4 weeks should be included on the list … in fact any girl / guy that’s walked in on you masturbating in the last 4 weeks should be top of your list
So I say good luck to all in your search and quest, may you be blessed with a life full or friendship and great sex.
And a final note, for the ladies out there, as you can see, there are definitely benefits with being my friend. Ping me.
Lupe Don Pappa
Thursday, April 7
the back-up plan
We're at that age now.
You know that time when you're about 16, and you start making the back-up plan to ensure you won't end up alone for the rest of your life? You don't actually think that you will ever really need to use a back-up... after all you're still a teenager and the world seems full of hopes and dreams that are about to come true, and you are one of those lucky ones who will surely find her great love. But you make the plan anyway, just to be on the safe side. You tell a friend or two that when you hit 28 (which we thought that was so old and far away) if none of you are attached, then you get married! And then you forget about it and only remember it at odd times when you want to laugh it off.
Then one day you wake up and you're 26. How did I get here so fast, I have no idea.
The other day, my sister witnessed a moment of sheer lunacy that has been stuck in my mind ever since she told me about it: My dad and a friend of his were talking, and the friend (a woman, in her early fifties) asks how old I am. He tells her, 26. And she says "Well! It's time to get her married!"
Notice how she says "get her married" as if it is a job for the general public. Oh my God, I'm at that age.
Already, when you hit 21, every time you're in the presence of a happily engaged couple or a newly married couple, or the ultimate worst, at a wedding, you hear the word "3abe'lik" a few dozen times. "3abe'lik," like your life's sole purpose should revolve around finding yourself that husband so that the world can rest and stop telling you that.
We're at that age when you look around at your friends and start speculating who will be the one to go first. Last year the poll would've probably pick me. The year before, it would've picked another couple who had been together six years. Now it seems that my back-up plan might be the first to go. How ironic is that?
Now we're at that age where the fear of ending up alone is kind of growing a little more. We're older now, seen what's out there, already have a friend of two with divorces of their resumes and your one serious relationship has gone to hell. It's a little scarier out there, I have to say. So you make new back-up plans. You and your gay best-friend decide to raise a child together at age 35. Or you and your girls decide you'll all live in a big house and adopt children from every country. You upped the age, of course, because you still want to give yourself a chance to find that shot at a nuclear family. But there's a slight chance the group of we-need-to-get-her-married parents are in for the shock of their lives.
Problem is, no one really wants the back-up plan. That's why it's called a back-up.
I've been accused of all kinds of things since I started writing this blog: angry, bitter, men-persecutor, revolted, negative, pessimistic... I've also very likely blown up all my chances of ever getting a man interested in me again... but even I can't help but hold on to the hope that I won't have to fall on the back-up. And even though the back-up plan might be a smarter-plan, I want the story you don't plan for at all.
You know that time when you're about 16, and you start making the back-up plan to ensure you won't end up alone for the rest of your life? You don't actually think that you will ever really need to use a back-up... after all you're still a teenager and the world seems full of hopes and dreams that are about to come true, and you are one of those lucky ones who will surely find her great love. But you make the plan anyway, just to be on the safe side. You tell a friend or two that when you hit 28 (which we thought that was so old and far away) if none of you are attached, then you get married! And then you forget about it and only remember it at odd times when you want to laugh it off.
Then one day you wake up and you're 26. How did I get here so fast, I have no idea.
The other day, my sister witnessed a moment of sheer lunacy that has been stuck in my mind ever since she told me about it: My dad and a friend of his were talking, and the friend (a woman, in her early fifties) asks how old I am. He tells her, 26. And she says "Well! It's time to get her married!"
Notice how she says "get her married" as if it is a job for the general public. Oh my God, I'm at that age.
Already, when you hit 21, every time you're in the presence of a happily engaged couple or a newly married couple, or the ultimate worst, at a wedding, you hear the word "3abe'lik" a few dozen times. "3abe'lik," like your life's sole purpose should revolve around finding yourself that husband so that the world can rest and stop telling you that.
We're at that age when you look around at your friends and start speculating who will be the one to go first. Last year the poll would've probably pick me. The year before, it would've picked another couple who had been together six years. Now it seems that my back-up plan might be the first to go. How ironic is that?
Now we're at that age where the fear of ending up alone is kind of growing a little more. We're older now, seen what's out there, already have a friend of two with divorces of their resumes and your one serious relationship has gone to hell. It's a little scarier out there, I have to say. So you make new back-up plans. You and your gay best-friend decide to raise a child together at age 35. Or you and your girls decide you'll all live in a big house and adopt children from every country. You upped the age, of course, because you still want to give yourself a chance to find that shot at a nuclear family. But there's a slight chance the group of we-need-to-get-her-married parents are in for the shock of their lives.
Problem is, no one really wants the back-up plan. That's why it's called a back-up.
I've been accused of all kinds of things since I started writing this blog: angry, bitter, men-persecutor, revolted, negative, pessimistic... I've also very likely blown up all my chances of ever getting a man interested in me again... but even I can't help but hold on to the hope that I won't have to fall on the back-up. And even though the back-up plan might be a smarter-plan, I want the story you don't plan for at all.
Thursday, March 31
shifting the blame
So apparently men want women to know that as long as they are chill, easy-going and simple, the world is perfect and the ball is in their court. Which is great advice, truly. But in case the relationship fails, the woman gets dumped, or the man is driven to do the unthinkable, like cheat for example, well then, it must be the woman's fault... Because she wasn't chill enough. Or simple enough. Or cool enough.
Men are Masters at Shifting the Blame. They all have PHDs in how to turn around every situation and always make it seem like it was the woman's fault, no matter how it starts. And I have proof. Rats and non-rats alike have admitted to me that they have the skills required to turn any fight into a losing battle for the lady. Even if she started it (which I'll admit, we usually do), and even if, and I quote, "even if she is completely right," they will always find a way to make her apologize without even knowing what for. Ever notice when you're so angry at your man and you start explaining yourself, when suddenly he cuts you off and gives you one argument after another, and you end up so confused you can't remember why you're fighting? Shifting the Blame Professionals, I'm telling you.
Men are Masters at Shifting the Blame. They all have PHDs in how to turn around every situation and always make it seem like it was the woman's fault, no matter how it starts. And I have proof. Rats and non-rats alike have admitted to me that they have the skills required to turn any fight into a losing battle for the lady. Even if she started it (which I'll admit, we usually do), and even if, and I quote, "even if she is completely right," they will always find a way to make her apologize without even knowing what for. Ever notice when you're so angry at your man and you start explaining yourself, when suddenly he cuts you off and gives you one argument after another, and you end up so confused you can't remember why you're fighting? Shifting the Blame Professionals, I'm telling you.
Just like the mouse wieseled it into his post. If women could just realize that men hate "the complaining, the stubbornness, lack of attention flip-out" and just not do it, then the world of relationships would be perfect. Hmmm. And women should just let men be themselves. And if the man acts like an asshole, cheats, leaves her with three kids and runs off to another side of the planet, she must be to blame... of course... because the ball is her court. "A man can only raise his standard to the point a woman allows him to.” (The wise words from Red in That 70s Show) Men are so good at doing that, it's frightening. At first glance, it seems flattering: means that if they do anything right, it's thanks to you... and if they do anything wrong, it's because of... you?
Now I agree with a few things the mouse said: a woman who knows how to entice a man will turn any Rat, any player, any man out there into a lover boy, and he will be happy to be. But remember that it is all relative. If you're writing in the context of being super-happy-in-love, you are just not in the same mind-frame as a broken-hearted-singleton or a newly-single-and-enjoying-it, or even a married-divorced-and-blase perspective.
A lot of the time, the woman is to blame. Yes, we can be annoying, stubborn, complaining girlfriends, and those are flaws men have also, by the way. And if women should let men be themselves, men should let women be themselves as well. And that includes jealous outbreaks, bursting-out in tears for no reason, the notorious PMS, and putting on those couple of winter kilos.
I'm not trying to say that women are the eternal victims of some evil male scheme. But for once, it would be nice to see a man accept responsibility for his actions, and not shift the blame. Admit that she complained because he really exaggerated. Admit that he left her, not because she wasn't easy-going and simple and cool, but because he got bored. Admit that just because she's wrong, doesn't mean he's right.
Thursday, March 17
The exception to the rule
I feel like writing silly again. Not that I don't enjoy pouring my heart-out and making people cry with my posts, but from time to time, I prefer to get back to funny rhapsodies about men and women and dating and playing and breaking hearts. Unfortunately, I've had very little material to work with lately. The Rats aren't being much of Rats, or at least they're not feeding my inspiration enough. And the girls, well all seems to be going well for most of them. Which is great, but makes poor blog-value.
But my friend Rebellious fell head over heals in love in the last two weeks, and I think that's worth a mention. There's been a lot of back and forth all year long, cuties, hotties, very cool guys, sometimes for months at a time, but something was lacking. And then, out of nowhere, and completely unexpected, she met Prince Charming. From the first moment they met, it felt different.
And that made me think: Yeah, I spent a lot of time talking about the game, being a bitch, following the "rules," deciphering what makes a love story work. But here's what I realize now: most of the time, when it's actually going to turn into a love story, it's very different from the start. So many times, when we're lonely, when we're looking, when we're almost desperately searching for the one, we meet lots of okay guys that we set-up in our heads as being great. We try to play the game, we ask our Rats what to write in this text message, how long to wait before calling back; then we analyze every other word he says with every other person we meet. And all it's such a big effort on our part and we don't even realize it. Because most of the time, you try too hard and it dies down because it wasn't even worth trying for in the beginning. When you meet someone whose okay, you should see it for what it is: a fling, a one night stand, maybe a few months of casual dating.
And once in a blue moon, you meet someone, and it clicks. There's instantly that notorious chemistry and it's always felt both ways. There's a different vibe to the flirting, it feels easier, more natural, and if there's a game being played, it's instinctive. When you meet that person, you're a lot more confident about the way he feels about you, because you feel it. No need to analyze and no need to think a million times before acting. It's effortless and it's wonderful.
It's the exception to the rule. And all the other times should be recognized for what they are, to avoid useless disappointment. We shouldn't settle for making the okay-guy great. We should be a little patient, and have a little faith. You know what they say: it always comes when least expected.
But my friend Rebellious fell head over heals in love in the last two weeks, and I think that's worth a mention. There's been a lot of back and forth all year long, cuties, hotties, very cool guys, sometimes for months at a time, but something was lacking. And then, out of nowhere, and completely unexpected, she met Prince Charming. From the first moment they met, it felt different.
And that made me think: Yeah, I spent a lot of time talking about the game, being a bitch, following the "rules," deciphering what makes a love story work. But here's what I realize now: most of the time, when it's actually going to turn into a love story, it's very different from the start. So many times, when we're lonely, when we're looking, when we're almost desperately searching for the one, we meet lots of okay guys that we set-up in our heads as being great. We try to play the game, we ask our Rats what to write in this text message, how long to wait before calling back; then we analyze every other word he says with every other person we meet. And all it's such a big effort on our part and we don't even realize it. Because most of the time, you try too hard and it dies down because it wasn't even worth trying for in the beginning. When you meet someone whose okay, you should see it for what it is: a fling, a one night stand, maybe a few months of casual dating.
And once in a blue moon, you meet someone, and it clicks. There's instantly that notorious chemistry and it's always felt both ways. There's a different vibe to the flirting, it feels easier, more natural, and if there's a game being played, it's instinctive. When you meet that person, you're a lot more confident about the way he feels about you, because you feel it. No need to analyze and no need to think a million times before acting. It's effortless and it's wonderful.
It's the exception to the rule. And all the other times should be recognized for what they are, to avoid useless disappointment. We shouldn't settle for making the okay-guy great. We should be a little patient, and have a little faith. You know what they say: it always comes when least expected.
Friday, March 4
the breakups
All of us, at one point or another, have suffered from a broken heart. And most likely, we have broken a heart or two along the way. Truth is, no matter how many different stories I hear, it seems that there is no right way to get your heart broken --and no right way to break someone's heart. While it's true that there are very bad ways to do it (i.e. breaking-up on a post-it like that Berger dude in Sex and the City) in the end, the result is practically the same: broken pieces of your heart, tears, boxes of kleenex, playlists that include Celine Dion songs, and pints of ice-cream.
The Romeo and Juliet breakup
Usually a heart-wrenching story about true love, the perfect-couple madly in love... who had to breakup because of some evil outside force/influence who couldn't let them be together. It might not be as tragic as Shakespeare's most famous play, but parents, friends, siblings, do love to get in the way. And the problem with this breakup is that it always feels like it should have worked out. My friend Anonymous went through the Romeo-and-Juliet some six years ago, and she still closes her eyes and imagines what it would've been like without the interference.
The I-don't-know-what-I-want breakup
Notorious with the mid-twenties crowd. Starts off with a "I'm not sure I'm happy" and ends with one of you out the door for good. Often unexpected for the second party, this breakup is one that comes after a couple of years together, once the routine had settled in and comes the fear of never-again feeling the rush of excitement that comes with new beginnings. You wake-up one morning in cold sweats, terrified that "this is it" and confused because you are also scared of losing the person you're with. You sum-up the courage to say you-dont-know-what-you-want, and off you go, single, onto the next part of your twenties, always wondering if you did the right thing.
The betrayal breakup
Almost as dramatic as Shakespeare, but more on the Hollywood side. She finds out from the friend of a friend who saw him with that girl at that bar God knows where. He finds a text message on her phone from that guy he's been suspicious of. They fight they scream they insult each other doors are slamming tears are streaming and it's going to be hard for these two to ever be civil again.
The break(up)
I can't talk about this one without hearing the "we were on a breaaaak" from Ross and Rachel. This one, let's be honest, is for cowards. Usually a precursor for the real thing, the break is a way of soothing into it. It's easier than going all the way, and it warns both parties that things are on shaky grounds. They most likely get back together, but things sorta go downhill from there.
The off-again-on-again breakup
We all know that couple. The ones who can't seem to make-up their minds. They break-up every few months, always back in a "honeymoon phase" at the beginning, then they can't really stand each other again, break-up... don't last more than a couple of weeks. Spend hours debating on whether or not to see each other to "talk about it". The conversation never really changes, but they end up sleeping together, agree that they can't-live-without-each-other, get back together. And it's the same dance all over again. They're the reason why we have the "it's complicated" status on Facebook.
And so we all go through the phases. Denial, depression, anger, acceptance --or something of the sort. It takes tears and friends and long nights of wailing while watching Pretty Woman or When Harry Met Sally (I don't know what guys watch). You've put on a few kilos, maybe went a little too long without taking a waxing appointment, and you don't exactly look your best. But then you wake-up one day, and you're not feeling sad.
And it's onto the next.
The Romeo and Juliet breakup
Usually a heart-wrenching story about true love, the perfect-couple madly in love... who had to breakup because of some evil outside force/influence who couldn't let them be together. It might not be as tragic as Shakespeare's most famous play, but parents, friends, siblings, do love to get in the way. And the problem with this breakup is that it always feels like it should have worked out. My friend Anonymous went through the Romeo-and-Juliet some six years ago, and she still closes her eyes and imagines what it would've been like without the interference.
The I-don't-know-what-I-want breakup
Notorious with the mid-twenties crowd. Starts off with a "I'm not sure I'm happy" and ends with one of you out the door for good. Often unexpected for the second party, this breakup is one that comes after a couple of years together, once the routine had settled in and comes the fear of never-again feeling the rush of excitement that comes with new beginnings. You wake-up one morning in cold sweats, terrified that "this is it" and confused because you are also scared of losing the person you're with. You sum-up the courage to say you-dont-know-what-you-want, and off you go, single, onto the next part of your twenties, always wondering if you did the right thing.
The betrayal breakup
Almost as dramatic as Shakespeare, but more on the Hollywood side. She finds out from the friend of a friend who saw him with that girl at that bar God knows where. He finds a text message on her phone from that guy he's been suspicious of. They fight they scream they insult each other doors are slamming tears are streaming and it's going to be hard for these two to ever be civil again.
The break(up)
I can't talk about this one without hearing the "we were on a breaaaak" from Ross and Rachel. This one, let's be honest, is for cowards. Usually a precursor for the real thing, the break is a way of soothing into it. It's easier than going all the way, and it warns both parties that things are on shaky grounds. They most likely get back together, but things sorta go downhill from there.
The off-again-on-again breakup
We all know that couple. The ones who can't seem to make-up their minds. They break-up every few months, always back in a "honeymoon phase" at the beginning, then they can't really stand each other again, break-up... don't last more than a couple of weeks. Spend hours debating on whether or not to see each other to "talk about it". The conversation never really changes, but they end up sleeping together, agree that they can't-live-without-each-other, get back together. And it's the same dance all over again. They're the reason why we have the "it's complicated" status on Facebook.
And so we all go through the phases. Denial, depression, anger, acceptance --or something of the sort. It takes tears and friends and long nights of wailing while watching Pretty Woman or When Harry Met Sally (I don't know what guys watch). You've put on a few kilos, maybe went a little too long without taking a waxing appointment, and you don't exactly look your best. But then you wake-up one day, and you're not feeling sad.
And it's onto the next.
Monday, January 31
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?
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?
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