unexpectedly unexpected

Being back from holidays is a very harsh reality check, especially when you spent the last 8 days in Paradise and you land back in Beirut. No offense Beirut lovers, I love this city most days of the year, but not today. Not when I just came back from blue skies and turquoise seas, deserted islands and elephant rides and white sand as far as the eyes can see.

I haven't been able to write anything since I got back because the mere idea of getting back into my "life" was depressing to me. Ever since I came back last week, I've tried to pretend that I was still away, hiding away from my usual hangouts, getting lectured by dad because he "hasn't seen me one second since I got back" and being passively present at work --physically but not mentally.

Now it's Monday and there are no more excuses. Everyone is back to reality by now and even though it sucks for a few days, I know that by next week, Thailand will be just a memory and life will be in the present again. The streets full of traffic at any hour of the day; The overcrowded bars, even though you'd think everyone got wasted enough the last two weeks of December, turns out they are even more crowded now; in the office where stacks of papers have piled up and you had promised yourself to put everything back in order in 2012; The bedroom where the new housekeeper (God Bless her, she's the sweetest person on earth but she doesn't understand a word I say) has decided to mix all your clothes with your sisters', as if sharing a room and fighting over who borrows what isn't enough; The to-do-list that you have to stop adding to, and start actually getting done. Did I mention all I've done since I got back is post pictures of Thailand on Facebook and play with my new iphone?

But sometimes in the midst of a nauseating routine, you find a glimpse of the good stuff --and what I mean by the good stuff is Sex. Turns out letting your guard down and just doing what you want to do sometimes takes you to better places. Let me explain --my friend Curls meets this guy over Xmas break: she doesn't live here, he doesn't live here, they've got nothing to lose. They find themselves attracted to each other and in that moment she knows all she wants from him is physical. She lets her guard down, doesn't play games, goes for what she wants and what happens? It actually clicks. I mention this because she is the queen of meeting new guys and it not working out. She is almost always looking for something serious, something meaningful, and she's a romantic one --but usually in stead of letting things flow as they should, she is prepared to settle for less. She meets a guy, realizes he fits the checklist, and holds onto him for dear life. Why? Because after years of getting run over by men you develop this phobia (and this is purely my own theory) that you may very well never find what you've always dreamed of and you settle for less. And if there is one thing I hate most in life it has to be just that. I almost fell for this too, not so long ago: met a guy, found him good-looking and charming and sweet and A-Perfect on every item on the list but you know what, at the end of our "date" I was disappointed. There he was: great on paper but no butterflies. Amazingly well-rounded but with nothing "special." No edge. Nothing out of the box. It was a perfectly well wrapped box with a pretty bow on top, and I'm sorry but that's not for me. And it's not for Curls either. Now the second she thought "I've got nothing to lose" suddenly she was herself. She broke down the barriers we put up to be our most attractive self, and put her cards on the table. I know, men like to chase. They don't want all your cards upfront. But it's all in the attitude. I spent all year listening to all kinds of advice from all kinds of people and it got me nowhere, until I met this guy randomly and I decided to have a one night stand --because that is exactly what I wanted-- and it turns out it was a damn good stand to take. It felt liberating to finally act the way I want, with no calculating and no over-thinking, just simply following my own wants and needs. 

So I think I finally may have figured it out. It's not the games and the number of calls and the bitch 101. It's whether you do what you want, or whether you do what you think he wants you to do. Simple as that. And here's the thing about doing what you want: it is so much more fun.

the audacity of flirting

There's a game and we all know it. Some people claim they hate the game, don't play by the rules and don't respect the code but in the end, there is always some kind of conscious effort made to make sure you get what you want. It's like a chess game, when you think about it. You can have the first move but that doesn't necessarily mean that you will get the last. And along the way, every decision you make will count.


And so it goes with games of the heart. In the traditional sense of the game, men have the first move. But sometimes girls get bold. They see a guy they like and actually approach him. I've asked some guys about this and apparently they like it, as long as it balances out afterwards. I was having this conversation with two people I met last night, and the guy said "The girl can do the first move, and we like it, but after that it has to be our game." He told me the story of how he once got sent a drink over at a bar, from some girl in the back. Gorgeous girl, it turns out. And he liked the move, it came a surprise and it felt bold and confident. He sent over a drink too, then went to speak to her and had a nice chat. At the end of the night, when he asked for her number, she said no. When he saw her again, she gave him her number this time, but when he asked her out, she said no, twice. Somewhere along the way, there was a tipping point, and she went over it. In playing in the boys field and playing hard to get, there is that fine line between mysteriously attractive and annoyingly arrogant.



But I like the idea of a girl making the first move. When I was eleven years old I sent a Valentine's Day gift to a boy I had a crush on and I think that can be seen as pretty audacious. It was a heart shaped red cardboard with heart shaped pasta glued on it and it said "will you be my valentine?". And what did I get in return? Nothing. Not even the acknowledgement that I had sent anything at all. I know I was only eleven but seriously, this is the kind of rejection that sticks with you for a lifetime. I mean, yes, i only remembered this episode as I tried to find some kind of example of me making the first move, but I think the reason why it's the only example is because it must've been traumatizing. So I admire the girl who sends a drink to a guy she finds cute, and I respect the girl who isn't afraid of rejection, because they go for what they want and don't give the guy all the cards. Maybe I'll try it some day, soon, just to see how it feels. 



When I think about it, I guess the way we flirt all depends on the mood, on the time and place, and on what you want from him. You don't flirt the same way with someone you want to sleep with that same night, than with someone you want to live happily ever after with. You don't give off the same vibes and you don't say the same words, and your body language is definitely different. But one thing is for sure: you never know where that first move might lead you. The boy I sent the V-Day card to? He's been my best-friend for the last 15 years. So it's all good.

Rhapsodian Guest Blogger: At least the illusion of it

 I have another Rhapsodian guest blogger this week. My friend Blushing gives us a glimpse into that feeling you get when there's a build-up for that first kiss... and it just really made me want to kiss someone! The type of kiss that makes you blush. 

At least the illusion of it
[follow Blushing on her blog  www.yupthisisit.wordpress.com]

For some reason, I’m incapable of kissing on the first date. Usually not on the second or third either. And I definitely can’t kiss someone I just met at a bar. I actually find this to be a rather boring feature about myself. And it’s not because I want to be a ‘good’ girl. It’s not because I want to play hard to get, or appear a certain way. I couldn’t care less about those things.

The thing is, I like a kiss to feel a certain way. This might make me a romantic, or a kid, or warrant a: ‘you’re such a girl!’. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I want to be in a 'relationship' before I kiss someone, nor is it that I want us to be hopelessly in love. It’s just that I want that feeling. I want my heart to pound even though I know it’s only hormones and chemicals. I want to loose my breath and feel weak in the knees just for a quick moment, even though if we were to get into a discussion you’d find that I probably don’t believe in love. I want even the hand-holding to feel special, discovering each other’s fingers, skin, and how they fit. And you can infer that all these things apply to sex as well.

Let’s think about that first kiss for a moment. Yeah you never get the first kiss back, bla bla bla. Scratch all that.  You can have plenty of amazing kisses with the same person, even for years and years. But back to the kissing a new date or stranger. If you’re hanging out with people you just met and one of them is drinking a bottle of water and you’re thirsty, would you just drink out of theirs? I’m not germaphobe or anything, but I prefer to know people a bit before I share bodily secretions with them. With my close friends, we share water bottles all the time. So I’m not gonna just suck face with some guy I just met who has smoky breath and sweaty palms (no offense to anyone). I have to feel I know the guy at least a bit, have a modicum of respect for him, and find him reasonably intelligent and interesting.

So it’s not love I need, but it is an illusion of something that looks a bit like a cousin of love. When I kiss someone, I want to feel we are both really enjoying it and kinda forgetting everything around us. When we stop kissing, I like to feel a bit surprised that there are still people around us, a bit like when you walk out of an early movie screening and are surprised it’s still daylight. Most of all, I just can’t look langouresement (no word in English good enough for this) into someone’s eyes and see nothing there.

the goal is to bring him home tonight

This is about the other girl. Not the one that I always rat about, who gets tugged around and played with and endures the calamities that come with dating men. This is about the girl that sees a guy from across the room, and with one look she already knows that he's going to be hers. Because the truth is, when a woman confidently sets her mind to something nothing can stop her.

Now don't get me wrong: this can be the same girl. I've seen it. I've been it. You can be the victim at one time and you can hold the reigns at another --it all depends on the situation and the guy and the timing. A couple of nights ago I was having a drink with a friend and she says to me "the goal is to bring him home tonight." I smiled. There I was having a girlie drink with one of my girlfriends and in stead of analyzing what this new crush of hers said or did, she just wanted to go through the motions and establish a plan that would get him into her bed. I loved it.

My other friend (whose nickname sets off alarms so I'm keeping it anonymous) usually meets a guy and plans the wedding ceremony within the same hour. But lately the balance seems to have tipped her way. He's the one talking about "us" for the next three years while she is still trying to remember his last name. She finds herself on a guy's bed and he's the one who doesn't want to go any further... yet.

Or this other girl who met this guy who is really insisting on trying out a long distance relationship.  Or my friend who is having trouble in her relationship because he thinks she is not making enough effort. Or my other friend who is feeling bad because she is using a guy for sex and moral support even though she knows he is in love with her and she doesn't see it going it anywhere. Sounds like I'm confusing my pronouns.

And then there's me. I'm an open book, literarily, just read the blog and you'll know what I'm thinking, what I've been through, when I'm depressed and when I'm happy. But even I can have the bring-him-home-tonight attitude sometimes. Think some guy can make me feel like shit for no reason and then come back and pretend like nothing happened? Not this time. If there's anything I learnt this year, it's to put myself first. Wise-rat told me: "You need to find a guy who will treat you like a princess." And there will be no settling for less.

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 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.

the politics of sex

We all know the cliche --women who sleep around are whores, while men who sleep around are hot playboys. And I'm actually sick to death of hearing about this: everyone knows the difference between a whore and a girl who likes to have sex a lot, and it has nothing to do with the number of men in her little black book. That's just something men and their egos created, because they don't like sharing, they don't like to know how many men were here before them, blablabla...

But whether we like it or not, sex is a game of politics. It's so filled with subtle innuendoes and so many rules it's almost enough to take out all the fun of out it --almost. Here's the bottom line: when girls have a one night stand, or sleep with a guy on the first date, they are perceived as easy. And when a guy thinks a girl is easy, he usually never wants to see her again. The "Bitch 101" bible says when you like a guy, you should keep his hands off you as long as you can, because the more he waits for it, the more he'll appreciate it, and the less he is likely to walk out after the deed is done. Now guys reading this are thinking "no, what, we like girls who sleep with us right away and don't play games..." Yeah, of course they like it when their penis is about to explode in their jeans. But afterwards... not so much.

Now my friend Wiserat says men like both kinds of women: those who sleep with them right away, for when they're "horny and want to bang on the spot." And they like those who make them sweat for it, when they're not too lazy and feel like chasing. Now he calls this men's "sexual attention span" --you can make the guy wait and chase, but not too long, otherwise he's just going to get pissed and tell you to go f*^# yourself.

My friend Curls went on a date with this guy, and decided, in advance, that she wouldn't sleep with him that night. Girls do that a lot, decide in advance --it helps us keep control, or decide not to shave so we have to keep control. Anyway, on date two, she thought to herself: if I have a good time and the guy is a keeper, I'm not going to his place. If he turns out to be a loser, I'm going to have sex with him. Weird thought? Actually for girls, it's starting to all make sense: if you like the guy, you wait. If you don't care whether he calls tomorrow, you go for it.

The politics of it can make your head spin. But at the end of the day, sex is supposed to be fun. Pleasuring. Spontaneous. And, believe it or not guys, sometimes all a girl wants is a good time, in the moment, without the headache of political innuendoes.  But why do guys always assume they're using the girl, not the other way around?