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 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.

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.