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.

the rats' block

I miss my Rats.

Now they are all in committed, loving, happy relationships, I have nothing to write about anymore. Never knew how much I relied on them for information, but the truth is, every conversation with them use to spark something, make me want to write, give me inspiration, and now, it's just blah.

I mean don't get me wrong, I'm happy they're happy... But seriously Rats "in a relationship" lose all of their rattitude. Which just goes to show that everything I ever said about them is annulled the minute they fall in love. No more hunting, no more games, no more Cigar Sundays. And for me, no more stories. You might think I get enough of my own stories to write about, but the truth is, lately, I've been working so much I can't remember the last time I met someone --even if it was just for two seconds.

Now I go for drinks with the Rats and their respective significant others and I can't help but feel like the odd one out, always complaining that it impossible to find a decent guy in this forsaken city.  Now they say it's because I've been leaving the house in hoodies and converse and never bother to put an ounce of blush and I guess they have a point... But it's a vicious cycle: You start out by making an effort, you fix your hair and you dress up nicely and you go out with that "open" attitude because that's what everyone says right, it's not about looks they say, it's all in the attitude. "People will know if you're open to them or not. You always look so closed of course no one is going to approach you." What the f*** does that even mean? I kind of get it, but seriously, I don't know how to do it any other way. I'm not the kind of person who is overly sociable, I don't usually make an effort to talk to random people, and honestly, I don't want to pretend like I do. "Be yourself" isn't that at the core of it?

So then I decided to stop making an effort. It'll happen when it happens. I'll just make an effort with myself from now on, and to be honest, it works most days. My life is more fulfilling now then it ever was when I wasn't single.

Yet I would be lying if I said it doesn't get lonely. You can be as independent as you want, it's human nature to want to share your life with someone. Have someone who cares about you specifically, asks about you everyday, has you on their radar. One of my best friends is having a virtual relationship over BBM and it's been going on for the past four months. And there is no real potential because the guy lives in another country and they have no plans to change that and they don't even know what it is that is going between them, and every so often, she wonders if she should stop texting him. But we talked about it, I told her honestly: I think it's always good to have that someone that keeps your phone ringing. Sometimes I look at my phone and I realize that I'm not waiting for anyone to call, and that depresses the hell out of me. And it's a tad lonelier still when your Rats are in their own holes. Yesterday I asked them "don't you have anything to give me for my blog???"

"Write about how much you miss us."

Rhapsodian guest blogger: Out of the Rathole

 For the first time on Beirut Rhapsodies, my guest blogger is a fellow Rhapsodian. Now let me put her in context for you: she's my one friend of whom I can truly say, without hesitating, is super happy in love right now. Which is why I think her advice is worthwhile. I mean, she's had her share of tears: she has cried more than anyone else I know over guys so she didn't always have it right... but she's on the other side of spectrum right now, and I thought it would be good for us to get a different perspective. 

The last couple of blogs have made me realize that my favorite Rhapsodian needs a helping hand…She has given up on love and I cannot bear seeing  this happening! So I’ve decided to share my 2-cents with her, and with all the girls out there who mumble, not too loud (so that it doesn’t come true!), but once too often, those absolutely atrocious and silly words: “’I’m gonna die alone”.

By no means am I claiming to be wise enough to become a love doctor, nor am I a Vietnam veteran to claim years of experience, but I did have enough bad experiences with a wide spectrum of rats to be able to tell from a distance if one is a plague- carrier or a pure-breed worth taming. Here is a sample of bad experiences that I’m sure are as cliché as it gets but enriching nonetheless:

So there was the first love, that endless relationship I wonder how it ever lasted so long. He was my college sweetheart. He was anything you would want in a guy when you’re 17…but after 5 years, all I wanted was freedom.  The stars must have misunderstood what I meant by freedom, because what I cashed-in instead was an egocentric brat who occasionally cheated and frequently lied and who owned the only phone ever created (I guess it was a prototype) that vanishes  and reappears at the owner’s convenience, meaning he could not always answer my texts and could never call me back.  The phone was designed in such a way that one could only text back should one need a booty call. Of course I was crazy about him because when he wasn’t busy touching his Blackberry or other girls, he would tell me the most wonderful words  that I would foolishly believe. One day he told me it was over by using the infamous “it’s not you it’s me” line, and he hurt me so much that my tears could have filled the Atlantic, back and forth 8 times… Then there was the guy whom I was never good enough for, and who destroyed what was left of my ego: “you’ve put on 300g, I’ve noticed them around your elbow”. Then came the possessive-obsessive-paranoid guy who was jealous of his own shadow…and a few other mice here and there (yes, not even qualified to be called rats) but I won’t dwell more on them…

And then the revelation. The decision. Yes this wonderful resolution we all take after a nauseous succession of plague-carrying rats: NO MORE BOYS I AM GOING TO FOCUS ON ME.

And so I did. Of course I cried sometimes, I missed the attention and the drama that came along with the boyfriends. But I used that time to finally get to know myself. I read more, I spent more time with the girls, reconnected with old friends, did Yoga, ran a marathon, worked harder, bought cooking books, started loving those extra 300g around my elbow, and slowly but surely regained my self confidence. I was finally happy.

 And one day, when I expected it the least, the most amazing charming loving kind funny cultured gentle, did I mention amazing… man came out from a hidden rathole and straight into my heart, and I hope to stay forever.  Today, when I ask myself what good wind brought him my way, I realize there were just a few things that I unconsciously had changed in my behavior that made me more attractive to that better breed of rats. So here are my 2-cents, or 8:

1)     Stop looking: a girl who is constantly hunting is a turn-off. Genuinely enjoy your single self, and one day, when you’re in your sweat pants with the almighty pimple on your left cheek,  thinking you’re looking your worst but actually looking your absolute best natural self,   he will find you.

2)    Know yourself: know what makes you happy and what you will never compromise on, and let no one stop you from getting it: If you need your yoga or your cooking or your time with the girls, make sure you get it.

3)    Know your flaws and make him love you for them: If you are the type that has 5-minute- a-month PMS bitchiness (give or take a few minutes) he should be manly enough to accept it and to love you for it. You’re never going to change, so find a man mature enough to love you “for better or for worse”.

4)    If they want, they can: so if they don’t…they don’t want. Simple equation. Read it 5 times and make it your new 1+1=2. If he wants to be with you, the things he would be willing to do for you would surprise you. So unless you see that type of behavior, don’t waste your time…

5)    Do no settle for less: and that means settle only for MORE. More attention, more care more respect. You were dad’s little princess remember? Now you have to be Rat’s little princess. Let him treat you the way you would treat him, and better, or nothing.

6)    Don’t be a nag: the weeping willow only goes one way: down. When you think nothing could go worse in your life, just switch on the news and put things in perspective. Be grateful for what you have, and someone will be grateful to have you.

7)    Forget the games: when the right guy comes along, you won’t need those “don’t text him back before 109 minutes” rules. If he wants to play, give him an X-box and bid him farewell and tell your little brother you have a pal to spare.

8)    Last but not least: Believe in yourself. You will NOT die alone. Keep this in mind: if Sarah Palin found someone to marry her once, so will you…

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.

the paradox of freedom

"Better a mistress than a wife." Coco Chanel


Anyone who's ever watched an episode of Mad Men would probably agree. Being the wife was so boring --sitting at home tumbling her thumbs, smoking cigarette after cigarette until her husband came home from work. And every husband had a mistress, or five. For the mistress, the husband would cut work in the middle of the day; he would actually communicate, share his thoughts, connect. For the mistress, the husband would unleash the passion. But for the wife... well, she got the sleepy, tired husband, who made her feel like coming home was like walking into a cage. Well, that's what I got from Mad Men anyway.

Then I watched "Coco," the movie, a couple of nights ago, and the man Coco Chanel is in love with is set to marry someone else. He says marriage is like a business deal, has nothing to do with love. And she says "better a mistress than a wife." Made me think. The wife represents the commitment, the settled life, the family. Boring. And the mistress is forbidden excitement, a daily escape, the adventure. All those words that seem to define men's needs.

So at the beginning of the 20th century, marriage was a social contract and love was to be found in the form of an extra-curricular activity. By the 60s, marriage was halfway between love and financial statements, and passionate sex was to be found in a variety of mistresses. And now there's a new century in the works and it's a little harder to define the terms. Maybe it's because now, we want it all: we want it to be love at first sight, passionate and enticing, but we also want it to be a calculated connection, with a check-list of culture, education, social class, religion and nationality. We want the love to be so strong we could live on bread and water, but we also want to ensure that chalet in Faqra or those trips to Paris twice a year for fashion week. We want the picture-perfect family, with the dog and the back-yard, but we also want the constant adventure and excitement and freedom of taking off with no strings attached. In today's world, we've become demanding, unforgiving, and uncompromising. If we don't get what we want, we bail, because we only live once and we want it all.

I guess that's the paradox of freedom. People paid with their lives for the choices we get to make today, and although freedom is a beautiful thing, it is also exhausting. How do you make the right choice? Do you go with rational, or do you go with instinct? Do you play it safe or take a chance?

Can you be the wife and the mistress?

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.

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?

measured love

I remember my first love.

I was eight, he was nine. We didn't need to talk, communicate, or even pretend like we knew each other to be in love. At that time, you could just pick. Point to a boy in class and decide you were in love with him. And when I was eight, I picked out the boy I would decide to love for the next couple of years. He once sent me a Pepsi Can with a messenger during recess, who told me it was a "gift from someone." I only found out it was from him because his mom told my mom that her son bought me something at school. And I once made him a Valentine's card with paper glue and heart-shaped pasta. It was that cute. But from age 8 to age 11, we never actually spoke to each other. After that it was a little more okay to say hello when passing each other. Then we started having boy/girl parties and it was okay to expect the boy to ask you to dance... and maybe it would be a normal dance where you kind of move from side to side in front of each other, and maybe it would be a slow dance... and maybe the arms would be left at arms length, and maybe we would do the unthinkable and actually slow dance with our arms wrapped around each other. That was how we measured love. 

My first love ended up being my first slow dance, my first kiss, my first boyfriend --and my first heartbreaker. It's okay, I have forgiven him since then.

But after the simple times of no communication and arms-length slow dancing, things started to get a little more complicated. Boys and girls started "going out." The boy would ask the girl, "will you go out with me?" and it was decided that they would be a couple. You could've never spoken to the boy before in your life, but he could still ask you out and if you said yes the minute after you were considered his girlfriend. Maybe not very romantic, but actually very practical: the terms were very clear from start to finish, there was no grey area. Will you go out with me? Yes. I'm breaking up with you. Okay. All black and white, no confusion. Simpler times.

And now... Well, now we're at point where you can kiss someone without knowing their first name, have sex with someone you met twenty minutes ago, kiss and have sex on a regular basis without actually being a couple, or be a couple without actually kissing or having sex.

Kind of makes the "will you go out with me?" seem a lot more romantic. 

Some couples are married, live in the same house, have children together --but sleep in different rooms, only greet each other out of politeness, and become virtual strangers. There are no more Pepsi cans being delivered, or heart-shaped pasta carefully glued. Slow dancing is replaced by heat dancing, with bodies being rubbed against each other most likely under the influence of Vodka. People spend so much time trying to pick out someone who they are attracted to physically, intellectually, emotionally... and nine out of ten times, they get it wrong. 

The chances were better when we were eight and picked at random. Because my first love turned out to be one of the greatest men I know, one of my closest friends, and quite a catch. 

"ma tete, mon coeur, et mes couilles"

Boys and girls alike were in agreement with the theory of my last blog post: know with your head, and with your heart.
But there was an interesting point made by one of my Rat friends, The Tenor, who reminded me that for men, there is one more element to consider: the penis. Actually, to be completely accurate, he said "the dick is always the winner, because if there was no dick, there would be no motivation." Now let's agree that there are exceptions to this rule... but consider the ramifications. While women have to maintain balance between their head and their heart, men have debates between their head, heart, and balls.
Actually, a French Artist known as "Grand Corps Malade" has a song called "ma tete, mon coeur et mes couilles (my head, my heart and my balls)" about this very phenomenon.
So I though I'd take a closer look. It seems to me, that unlike women, men find that it is easiest to control their hearts. Their heads and their balls however, now that's another story.
I for one, am already in over my head trying to rationalize my emotions. But men have compartments for their feelings. They can put things in boxes and label them, only opening them when they choose to. The rest of the time, they use their heads, they rationalize, and they can deal with pretty much anything that way. But when their balls get in the way... then neither their heads nor their hearts make a difference --unless they have tremendous willpower. I guess this is why men say they can cheat on you and still love you: their penis and their hearts don't have to be in agreement.
So I guess in order to be in complete sync with a man, you have to be in sync with his head, his heart, and most importantly, his balls. Piece of cake.

know with your heart, and with your head

When I started this blog, I went from the idea that by talking about things, we might be able to figure out how to make relationships work in the 21st century. If our parents are the divorce generation, what does that make us? More likely, or less likely, to follow in their foot-steps?

On the one hand, there seems to be more precaution. Couples talk through things before they take a big leap. They discuss stuff that could only matter if they end up getting hitched, so that they know if they're compatible on the long-run. With so many of us who watched their parents get ugly divorces, seen fathers cheat on mothers, or mothers abandoning the nest, it's only normal that our defenses awaken. Take my friend Ballerina, for example. She was dating a guy with who she got along great, but they had very different views for what their children's education and life would be like, and that led them to break up. Now life views can be formed by a number of things --education, nationalities, families, personality. My parents for example are from two different religions, but they shared the same principles --so it was never a problem. It just so happens that, for Ballerina, her guy was so particular about his life-principles, that she realized she would be unhappy on the long run. Even though it wasn't a problem while they were dating. So they could've stayed happy, gotten married, and let shit hit the fan... but they didn't. They took precautions.

Then again, I also have two of my closest friends, a boy and a girl, both 26, and each already with a divorce on their resume. They rushed into it, yes, but are they the exception, or the rule?
One big relationship question-mark, which we all would love to take precautions on, is cheating. Men (and many women, too) now try to get as much sex as they can, with as many different partners as they can, in a bid to be "satisfied" or, more accurately, "sheb3anine," before they get married. I wonder if that really works. Is getting a lot of it before committing less likely to make you want to cheat? Or the fact that you've enjoyed it so much make you want to do it more? 
I know a couple who were together since high school. They loved each other madly, everyone could tell they were the perfect match --soulmates if there is such a thing. After six years together, she decided to break-up and let him experience other women, because if he didn't, she was afraid this need would come up at a later stage, after they got married or had kids. And so he went, experienced, came back to her after a year, and they are now happily married.

Last week, a thirty-something woman with three kids under five told me the secret to happy marriage is to have your head and your heart in sync. "When I fell in love for the first time, I was 21," she said. "My head told me he was the perfect guy for me. Our parents loved each other, he was from a good family, and we got along great. But my heart told me it was too soon." The second time she fell in love, her heart told her it was the most amazing, most passionate relationship... but her head told her she could never really be with this guy on the long run. "The third time was the charm. I knew with my heart and my head that he was the one."
You might argue, she's still young... and hasn't reached the ten-year marriage bang just yet. But I hope she's right. For all our sake's.