when the good stuff comes out

I know I spend a lot of time nit-picking on relationship imbalances, blaming guys for all sorts of devilish attitudes and sometimes it seems like I'm portraying women as victims. The truth is I only talk about themes that appear in my life or in my friends' lives, and it so happens that these are the stories I get. But this week I got a lot of time to look at everything from a different perspective, and I saw something in men that I hadn't seen in a long time.

I was at a wedding in Larnaca on Saturday, the only one I've been to this summer, and it was the sort of wedding where everything was about their love and nothing else. It was so simple --no fluff, no fuss, no one cared about the flower center piece or a big light show or fireworks or whatever it is they do at weddings. Yet there was nothing simple about the way these two felt about each other, how happy they were, and how happy we were to be really sharing this moment. There were 100 guests, so it was intimate, you see. When we danced, the entire party was on the dance floor. The bride was beautiful because of the sheer glow in her eyes and the groom looked at her adoringly and it made us all believe in love. Not one person was sitting there criticizing the dress or the decoration or the choice of entertainment. No one cared and everyone had a wonderful time. A genuine moment, if you know what I mean.

Now in the same week, two of my girls met guys that for once had a very genuine, very healthy approach to flirting. And their first reactions, both of them, was surprise. A guy who actually calls when he says he will, really? A guy who actually stays when you refuse to "go back to his place"? A guy who compliments you for being interesting and fun and "amazing" and is actually listening to the things you say? We kind of forgot they existed. And at first, it's almost boring --because we're not used to liking a guy that doesn't shift our emotions seventy times per minute. But then we realize what it is: the no fluff, no fuss, simple "getting to know each other," when the goal is not to have sex tonight. It still happens, we just forgot.

Even the Rats... they haven't been quoted much lately because, guess what: almost every one of them is in a relationship, and to be honest, they are all amazingly good boyfriends --as far as I can tell. Even though they can be the biggest Rats when they are single, they all have a loverboy side to them and they enjoy it. And it's all wonderful, but it doesn't make for great blog material because who wants to hear about perfect happiness in Lalaland?

So I had a good week, so full of love that I decided I couldn't be cynical and I was just going to mention the good stuff. Maybe it's not the stuff that make a good blog, but it's the stuff that make the good life.

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.