La Fille Mal Gardée

Fun! What's Your Seduction Style?

2010-07-26T02:43:00.001+01:00

I am working on a little project... a Master Plan of sorts and I came across this in my research.

The perfect combination of words

2009-11-24T19:13:00.001Z

Head, Heart by Lydia Davis

Heart weeps.
Head tries to help heart.
Head tells heart how it is, again:
You will lose the ones you love. They will all go. But even the earth will go, someday.
Heart feels better, then.
But the words of head do not remain long in the ears of heart.
Heart is so new to this.
I want them back, says heart.
Head is all heart has.
Help, head. Help heart.

Something to think about

2008-10-06T20:26:00.005+01:00

Other than the actual column turned into a book "Sex and the City" I have never liked Candice Bushnell's books. I think they are often too preoccupied with status and instead of psyche. Of course, I am guilty of adoring snarkiness too. Gawker, while condescending and obnoxious at times does a great job of pointing out the holes in arguments- even exploiting them.

Sex is so much the same. Relationships- at least in the beginning- are built on this. We are concerned with status and who we appear to be--rather than what we actually are. I thought Candice Bushnell made a great statement (via Gawker via Elle):

"A lot of [sexual] behavior is dictated less b gender and more by money, status, and power. Actresses in Hollywood have always had a lot of sex secretly. Why? Because they can. Because they're not reliant on a man to provide a roof over their head. That changes your sexual behavior. Because if you're looking for a man to provide for you, you don't want to be seen as a woman who sleeps around. Men object to it because you're not viewed as wife material."

Read the whole Gawker post

A Canal for Cinderella

2008-04-17T21:30:00.002+01:00

If Cinderella was written today she might be a working woman; she would be a slave to her profession, not completely innocent but not quite yet a cynic either. She would be beautiful but unattainable and naturally men would still be baffled--her prince charming merely a myth. And instead of her shoe gracefully left behind, this time she would be in possession of something he left behind. Would she choose to pursue him? Or, would she still wait, albeit calculated, for him to come to her?

Like Cinderella, I've found myself in the unfamiliar. A new city, new culture, new people, and well, new dating rules to learn. Even the 'foreigners' I've met seemed to have gracefully mastered this new culture, easily playing along. In my first few weeks in Amsterdam I met a few different guys--none of them Dutch-- whom I didn't feel overwhelmingly attracted to but interested in enough to be slightly miffed when each time a fun, flirtatious night led to nothing. As for the Dutch ones, I had heard a few different things about them-- they don't ask woman out they've just met, they are cheap, they are often snobby, and lack passion--that I wasn't too eager to find out for myself.

Nevertheless, after making a few fun Dutch girlfriends I began to naturally surround myself with more Dutch people and frequent those bars that only locals know about and those same ones you are always relieved to have finally found. And despite all the rumors, I found that Dutch people were a lot of fun! One Sunday, after two previously late nights, a friend called me from a loud bar insisting that I make my way to the hip and tendy de Pijp area (where we had a been a few nights earlier) because a group of guys we met that same night were there and asking for me. Some what reluctantly and in my jeans and Converse sneakers I headed over.

It was only 7:30pm but it could have been midnight from the looks of the scene I fell upon. A mix between an American summer B.B.Q. and a chic bohemian Parisian bar, people spilled out of the bar and onto the cobblestone street, all laughing and yelling to one another (in Dutch would is not nearly as elegant as French). Inside, the bar was packed--streamers, which probably once hung from the ceiling now decorated the crowd and everywhere you looked people were smiling and dancing, greeting you as they passed by. My girlfriend was right in the middle of it with the same group we had been with before but within 15 minutes of my arrival she grabbed me a told me we were heading to another party.

We piled into a few different cars and headed towards what I expected to be another laid back but fun bar. What I didn't expect was to find myself queuing for a large club all the way across town. When we arrived, I was mortified-- I was wearing tennis shoes! I didn't think there was any way the bouncers would let me in amongst all the others who were dressed to the nines. The guys only laughed when I told them my fear, remarking that this wasn't Paris. Surprisingly, the bouncer barely blinked as he let me through with the rest. However, I am sure it helped that we didn't so much as queue as we did pass through to the VIP line and up to the large balcony reserved for a few tables.

Once inside my friend and I settled in quite easily-- she hadn't dressed for the occasion either and we laughed: we sensed that it was going to be one of those completely random nights where you end up having a fantastic time. Sipping champagne, I began chatting right away with one of the guys who was undeniably cute (which I should note I was completely attracted to) and who I had met previously. As the night wore on, he and I spoke often. He was flirtatious and fun but it wasn't until we began talking about sex that things began to change. He, like a number of guys I've met and even dated, found a fascination in discussing swingers clubs and I played along, enjoying the attention. Later on the dance floor he grabbed me and kissed me. I was hooked. But I wasn't intending to let him know that either. We flirted and kissed often throughout the night and I was over joyed by his fascination with me.

Around midnight, my friend and I with my new found flirt and his friend all decided to leave-- where we were initially headed I am not quite sure but the four of us soon found ourselves back at my apartment on the roof terrace. Eventually my flirt and I were in my bedroom enjoying more than just each others lips. But like Cinderella, the clock would strike the hour when the pumpkin would return. Of course, it is important to point out that a future in any real relationship sense of the word was out-- he was a complicated individual with what is probably best described as baggage. And he certainly wasn't looking (or had indicated at least) for anything more than fun sex, which I was up for. So, we had preview sex and after he and is friend left I resolved that if all it would be was preview sex (which was GREAT) then I was pretty satisfied.

But of course the shoe was left behind--or in this case a belt. If prince charming had left an article of clothing behind I am sure Cinderella would have shrugged and say, so? I found it amusing-- until the messages, which began as funny and odd left me over analyzing the situation. According the story, Prince Charming knew what he had to do-- find the girl whose shoe was left on his door step and marry her. Cinderella had no idea. Amongst the seedy red light district and promiscuous behavior, I normally would have thought of it as a souvenir. My flirt needed it back.

A week of amusing but slightly irritating messages between myself and his friend led me to believe the night was cheap. I was the bystander in the entire conquest made more obvious by the fact that I had to return the belt to someone else.

With a Bang

2008-01-07T00:49:00.001Z

After hearing about this "party of the year" for a few holiday seasons, I finally made it home in time to attend the fête that my sister had always bragged about and I was excited: gorgeous house in the hills of New Hampshire, hockey players, investment bankers, doctors, lawyers--some of them even single--and lots and lots of free alcohol. The perfect recipe for a great party. Despite the jet-setting I had previously embarked on before landing in Vermont for the holidays, my sister was a professional party attendee and I knew this party had to be great if she said so.

I was 99% sure this party would be fabulous. The remaining 1% was hesitation: I hadn't actually attend a swanky party in the hills of New Hampshire before (or to mention it, anywhere in New England), but it certainly seemed like it would be full of city folk who did the whole ski scene in the beautiful hills of New England. I dressed to impress.

My little black dress, sky-high heels, and fabulous crown lent to me by my sister who had recently been crowned Mrs. Vermont, seemed like the perfect ensemble for the holiday affair. It was cold that night and about two feet of fresh snow made the drive up the mountain-esque road breath-taking. Along with my sister, her husband and another male friend of theirs joined as as we drove up together joking and laughing. Their friend, Mike was a fun guy but not someone I was attracted to or someone I was all that interested in. His personal situation was messy-- a wife he was un-interested in but stayed together with for their young daughter. Not something I wanted to really get involved in.

Once I noticed the dripping boots and ski jackets pilled in the entry way, I should have known from the moment we arrived that the party would be less like the fabulous and crazy crowd I had imagined. Walking into to the large kitchen, which opened into the lovely living room groups of people were scattered around quietly speaking. Immediately I realized I was slightly over-dressed and could tell the tiara perched on the top of my head wouldn't be nearly as appreciated as I had hoped.

In fact, I felt for an instant as if I had walked into a party in high school at which I probably didn't really belong. I had never been apart of the in crowd then and the few times I did show up I couldn't help but feel mostly awkward and out of place because I wasn't all that sure how to act. Most of the woman in the room were wearing conservative outfits-- lumpy sweaters and and awful shoes. Just as I was about to ask my sister what she saw in this crowd, she handed me a large glass of wine and simply instructed me to "drink". Perhaps she felt the same strange tension.

After a glass of wine, however, I began to relax and even tried to engage in a conversation with Mike and another woman. I didn't want to appear snobby but as a commented on the story he was telling, she looked at me as if I just spoke French. It wasn't hard to tell how the crowd divided: married couples and slightly desperate woman looking for the perfect Christmas story to one day tell their future children. I was clearly an obstacle to those goals. I shrugged it off happily knowing the details of Mike's life--he was all hers.

The rest of the party flashed by in a drunken daze. I had never thought of myself as the girl who crashes a party. Yes, I felt attractive and flirty that night but I never imagined that I would be considered a threat especially amongst a crowd I didn't know nor would ever see again. Looking back, I felt insecure because I wasn't accustom to the ways of the mid-thirties woman. I was a little intimated by them at first but in all honesty slightly bored of even the men after a while. So, I drank to make up for the lack of substance the party had to offer.

That was the lethal combination of the night: frustration and desire. I wanted to find someone great to have a nice time with and I also needed it to be a great party. I thought that alcohol would make it better and in some ways it did. Until I woke up the next morning to find myself naked in bed.

The rest of the night came flooding back like a bad dream. Dirty martinis, flirtatious moments with Mike, the hotel room, the stranger utterances I was calling out as we apparently had sex and then the next morning--awake, alone and mortified. After dragging myself home and showering off the strange and slightly disastrous night I began to think that even if I hadn't qualified myself as desperate like the other woman from the party ultimately I had only proved my own desperation. No, I wasn't desperate for the same story book ending I had assumed they were after but my need to feel desired and liked-- the type of girl I looked down at when I was at those parties in high school and the type of girl I swore I would never be--just to fit in.

Will Mid-Twenties Mean More Than Early-Twenties?

2007-11-11T22:34:00.000Z

In one month from today, I will be celebrating another year gone by. I am also hoping that this year's festivities will be much more exciting than last year: stuck in bed, dying of strep throat. (Fine, maybe I wasn't dying, but it certainly felt like it!) The only celebration I had was an 23h30 birthday call from the guy I had been calling my boyfriend and a few friends who sheepishly made their way to my house to "celebrate" an hour before the boyfriend call. Needless to say, that boyfriend definitely failed the test miserably and those friends have been replaced in the natural progression of out growing and changing that so often happens when you get older.

Last year and this year have been marked by a number of milestones and while I think every year how much I've changed from the last, I've found there are some pretty obvious changes that have happened.

1) I've realized that people don't really change all that much. That boyfriend was the same boyfriend who left me in Paris six months previously, who I never heard from until he found his way back to Paris again. He was a jerk when he left and he was a jerk when he came back. Even when I was sick he barely found the time to check on me to make sure I was ok. And those promises (like the ones I had heard before) were of course broken again. Luckily for me, the third time's the charm! I managed to delete him from my life when a surprisingly unapologetic email arrived back in my inbox a month later wondering if I was back in Paris. Well, if he really wanted to be my boyfriend he would have called a lot sooner!

2) I gained the confidence to stick up for myself without being catty. For two years, I had a group of friends who I've had a lot of fun with. Looking back at the pictures of our various adventures, I still laugh and smile. And no matter what, I wish nothing but the best for them in their lives. But having said that, there does come a point when you don't want to stay that certain character of the group. I guess what I want to say is I never intended to always strictly act a certain way around certain people-- that is not who I am. I also never intended to have to continuously worry about and then apologize for the way I draw my conclusions. And I never want to be expected to have to make-up for the short comings in other people's lives (and neither would I expect that of them!). I don't mean to sound that I am a disloyal person but I think the first person we have to be loyal to is ourselves. If there comes a day when I am married with children, then I will happily make them the priority in my life but for now I have to be my first priority.

And that priority does not have to fight unnecessary battles about frivolous differences.

3) I got out and accomplished something to set myself apart. When you suddenly see the friend base that you once had start to crumble it is quite possibly the best thing for you. There was a reason my base crumbled. It opened my eyes up and I learned to really cherish those friends I will have for a long time. I also got myself out there and made new friends, got a job at an international magazine, and traveled.

4) Even at its most I'm-going-to-throw-up moments, I met someone pretty amazing, I learned what disappoint can feel like, and I'm still standing. As a blind optimist, I put a piece my heart away, just in case and as scowling cynic I have not learned to move on yet. Two feelings I never knew were possible to feel simultaneously; hopefully being in my mid-twenties soon will help me work that out!

Finally, 5) I am not longer in my early-twenties. Somewhat relieving because hopefully I will start to take myself a little more seriously. And hopefully, my mid-twenties will answer some questions that are beginning to mull in my head!

The Blog that Went Wrong. Sort of.

2007-11-06T00:02:00.000Z

So maybe I provoked it. Just a little at least. But he was forewarned. In fact, each time someone mentions I look like a certain TV star who used to act like a certain sex columnist, I usually don't fail to mention that I, in fact, had a similar column that eventually became this blog-- La Fille Mal Gardée. So, you can't be surprised when you find a character of yourself within its lines. That's life and if you don't agree with that, well then that's the way it is. I have no apologies because if I can admit my mistakes than well you can live with a few of your worst (and sometimes greatest!) moments somewhere out there on the internet. And if it is name-calling you are worried about, well I cleverly label you for disguise.

Now that I've stated my case, I should probably add before going further, that I might have gone a little further this time. But it was so tempting that I couldn't resist. And I felt if I got one fair swing, it was the most appropriate place to attempt it. And boy did it work!

A few weeks ago, I landed on the fair Ilse of Ireland. And as I related in an earlier post, a nice Irish lad invited me out. And while it didn't play into a perfect Irish romance, I was happy to brush it off until he literally brushed me off in a grocery store.

So, I took the liberty of posting about the situation (not the guy per-say) on an online community we both belonged to. I knew he would probably find it and if he didn't someone he knew surely would. But to my own defense, I tried to conceal his identity as best I could there. Perhaps, I took a few more liberties on the La Fille but I could never have expected the response I received.

He found the thread and then the blog. And with that spurred a flood of angry texts as to where I had the nerve to talk about him in that nature. Of course, he denied any wrong doing, and for a moment there I almost fell for it; until he mentioned what he was really upset about: Dublin and ASW were both small places, word could get around.

Ha! He was worried that I would tarnish his reputation-- as if it was my fault that he tarnished his reputation. I suppose it was me, if tarnishing a person's reputation is to not have sex with him. Or perhaps it was the fact that I claimed he followed me around the grocery store aisles just to continue ignoring me.

While I have always respected a person's desire to not be in relationship or maintain purely sexual ones, I think I draw the line at someone wanting to preserve their player image. And even less so, when they couldn't even seal the deal.

But what strikes me, and it is not only a strike against the Irish lad, is how detached from one another we are. Both the Irish lad and myself were completely and utterly immature and selfish. I wanted to preserve my ego and sense of being right (whatever right meant in this situation) and he was fearful as being eternally labeled as a jerk. To be fair, he probably is not a jerk-- just a guy in his 30s who continues to live with roommates not because he can't afford to live alone but because he is not really ready for life beyond roommates.

But I wonder, if I had politely declined his invitation to share wine at his apartment, would things have worked out differently? Would he have said hello in the grocery store. A part of me wants to say yes, but most of me knows it probably would have played out exactly the same.

My Broken-Unbroken Heart

2007-10-22T01:14:00.000+01:00

What was Jane Austin trying to accomplish when she developed strong heroines, spineless men, and dashing heroes? It seems without fail, Austin's women must first suffer from superficial love, followed by something greater--beyond explanation. But Austin's means are much more interesting than her ends. The complication of love--and its game, begs the question, are we all just waiting for the realization that what comes easiest and simplest is in fact our greatest desire?

There we were, sitting side-by-side on his couch, barely touching and all I could think was how strange it was to be sitting on the couch and in the room where so much had passed: passion, disappointment, maybe even love... And while we sat there, those elements were somewhere in the distance. Was it truly the past? I am not sure.

Two night later, I woke-up after falling asleep, tightly curled-up in my bed, with my computer in front of me. I hadn't physically moved from that position in two hours--but my mind had been racing. I dreamt we were in bed together and we kept changing positions. If we were having sex, then it was just the movement of sex: bodies wrapped-up in one another, at times sideways, upside down, parallel, backwards... it was if I was dreaming of a metaphor of our tumultuous but always respectful relationship. What stuck in my mind was the fact that he acknowledged his inability to decide if I was what he really wanted. Like our lazy Sunday on the couch, I waited patiently and uneasily.

Every time I've either decided to let him go or that I would no longer wait for him, suddenly he reapears opening himself up a little more to me. But it has never been about adding to any sort of foundation, rather he would give me some insight to one of his many layers--his complicatedness, his self.

While the heroes of Austin's novels who distilled honor, virtue, respect, and duty always displayed their deepest layer--love-- last, I wonder if it is possible to expect the same from men today. Or perhaps, Austin's world has not really changed today; we continue to anticipate the reply to a text message or email in the same vain the women of the 19th-century waited upon the arrival of a letter. Of course, they did not have sex to complicate the matter but they displayed their affections more strongly. Even desperately at times.

And where Austin's heroines wait desperately for love to find and validate them, today we put up barriers to delay it. We work, have increasingly demanding social lives, and are expected to accomplish something great for ourselves. Will our accomplishments be weighted in the final decision of life? Or will they be simply counted as means to pass the time? What exactly is it that we are waiting for? Perhaps we chose to create a movement because we can and we should-- but what exactly that movement is, I am not sure if it is any different from those heroines of a time we somewhat mockingly read about.

My Ulysses

2007-09-23T14:40:00.000+01:00

I have never been a big fan of rugby. First off, I don't understand the rules. There doesn't seem to be any logic to how the game is played, and despite the occasional break through of a few players most of the time both teams just end-up in a pile of bodies. Supposedly a man man's sport, I get the feeling it is just an excuse for men to wrestle like they were young boys again.

I arrived in my new city of Dublin the same weekend of the Rugby World Cup, which was being played in Paris, the city I had just moved from. Although I could careless who won, I appreciated the irony in the juxtaposition of the two cities. As a fan of sporting events in general, I knew I would enjoy the buzz around the pubs during matches since both France and Ireland were big contenders in the event.

My first weekend in Ireland an Irishman, whom I had met through aSmall World--an invitation-only social network, offered to show me around Dublin. I eagerly accepted Mr. Irish Lad's offer, excited to see Dublin and break-in to its night life. Of course I was slightly nervous to meet him outside the DART station because unlike myself, his personal profile was not accompanied by a photo and the only description he gave me was "I am kind of tall with blondish hair."

Although he was no Brad Pitt he was certainly cute and as we walked the grounds of Trinity College we chatted easily. A lawyer who had grown-up in Dublin proper, Mr. Irish Lad had spent two college summers in the Hamptons teaching tennis. Our first stop of the night was a packed pub to watch the second half of the rugby match and followed by Ireland's win, we found our way to Cocoon, a lounge bar in the center of town.

While our conversations moved from one topic to the next, I remember my amusement when his mention of how much he enjoyed watching Sex and the City. This lead to an inevitable conversation about dating in our respective countries and our conclusion was that dating in the U.S. and Ireland was similar, which was interesting because I am not sure if he had even dated an American before. As I have never seriously dated an Irishman, I wondered to myself if this was an accurate conclusion.

From Cocoon, he suggested we go somewhere else although that somewhere was not specified. I took his lead and after about five minutes it seemed like we were walking away from the area where most bars were. My instincts were correct: he suggested that we go to his place where he had some wine; in fact, it was the direction we were heading in. I agreed, somewhat baffled by this new twist to the night. We had barely had a flirtatious moment and while I found him nice, I wasn't sure if I was even attracted to him.

Two glasses of wine later, sitting on a leather couch in a very barren room, Mr. Irish Lad began to kiss me. Again, I wasn't sure what to think but the kissing was enjoyable... and I was slightly drunk. But that is where I took over the lead, and lead myself home shortly afterwards, despite his requests that I follow him into his bedroom.

A week went by without hearing from him, which I thought was kind of odd but to be perfectly honest only slightly bothered me. Who was this guy really?

The following Saturday I went to Fresh, a supermarket, with a friend. We immediately bee-lined it to pastry section when a cute guy walked up and mentioned that the muffins across the street were much better... I was so enthralled with the muffins that I barely noticed as my friend poked me in the side, mumbling "talk to him!"

Walking towards the meat section that is when I noticed him: Mr. Irish Lad. Although I wasn't quite sure if it was him or not, so I grabbed my friend and pointed him out. I spent the rest of the time in the store, sneaking around trying to get a better look. Funnily enough, Mr. Irish Lad kept walking in which ever direction I was headed in. I tried to keep my cool, certain it was him now. After I had seen him walk from the front of the store all the way to the back where I was standing, I found him standing within a few inches of me but he didn't say a word.

I had to keep myself from bursting out laughing at the immaturity of the situation. He obviously was ignoring me although he was following me around and I was too proud to speak first since he never bothered to call me after we went out. I had an ego to protect!

He finally, made his way out of the store without saying anything to me even though I was positive he had noticed me. After my friend and I paid for our groceries, I decided that I would text him to find out if it had actually been him.

Me: "Did I just see you in Fresh? Small World!"
Mr. Irish Lad: "You did, that's funny. Hope you're well."

I couldn't believe he had admitted it without even one single explanation or apology for his behavior! But I couldn't resists, pushing further I sent another text:

"And you didn't bother to say hi? I wasn't sure it was you! I am doing fabulously, and you?"

To which he responded,

"Good to hear, doing some work now, enjoy the sunshine."

Once again I was baffled at his behavior. First he admits he saw me but again won't offer any explanation. Perhaps I could have been mature enough to turn to him when I had the chance and say hello but if he had text me like I had, I might have at least lied or claimed "wow, that was you! I wasn't sure and didn't want to make a jerk of myself by approaching some stranger." But he acted unapologetic and yet cowardly at the same time about his behavior.

I think what bothers me about the whole situation is how strange it all is. There was no obvious reason for his behavior and really no excuse. Even though I wouldn't have sex with him that night we met didn't mean I wouldn't have been interested in it later. And when I left his apartment that night out there didn't seem to be any uneasiness when we said goodbye.

But perhaps this is how it works in Ireland. If you don't put out the first night, they don't want to see you again? Certainly different from the French approach-- at least they would have settled in for the chase a bit and if they didn't want to, they would certainly let you know. Yet, what is most mystifying--what if this is how Irish people date?

In my experience, most of the men who disappointed me, never blatantly disrespected me. Not to say some of them were not weak, taking the easy way out, at least they had the audacity to lie or stretch the truth. Of course, I often complain that my current fling hasn't called or wants something different than, me and I wish that he would just be honest and up front with me. But from this last experience, Mr. Irish Lad's method was much more deliberate--methodical even. No wonder Joyce, Beckett, Wilde, and others got out of Ireland as fast as they could and yet spent years obsessing about it. And while I am not Irish, just my name is, I am beginning to wonder if Molly Bloom wasn't completely misunderstood.

But like all new places there is the inevitable culture shock and this certainly translates to the dating scene. There will always be those nuances that you have to learn and accept-- whether you like it or not. At least I had the satisfaction of watching France beat Ireland 25-3. There is nothing like a pile of Frenchmen on top of a pile of Irish ones to make you smile.

For Your Ears Only

2007-08-10T14:08:00.000+01:00

About a month ago, a colleague from the London office called me to ask for my assistance on a project he was working on. He had recently joined to company and I had heard of him mentioned time to time by others in both the Paris and London offices--from what I could gather was he was quite eager and ambitious, somehow always managing to juggle a number of tasks at once. Before I had even spoken to him, I felt slightly jealous. Although he has more senior position than me (well, he is one step up from myself), he seemed to be, from the threads of conversations I over heard, the star new guy.

He began his request by email, one that I was anticipating since I had over heard my editor on the phone unvolunteeringly volunteering my services to him. The email was polite but casual, simply asking if I wouldn't mind giving him a call when I had a chance. I wasn't opposed to helping at that moment but I was in the middle of some editing crisis so I put off calling him for a few hours. Not to be out polited, I sent an email back, promising to call soon.

When I finally did call him back, I wasn't prepared for what I was about to hear. The request was simple enough but it was the voice that delivered the request that took me aback. I knew when calling London I was most likely going to speak with an Englishman. And in fact I call the city quite regularly for all sorts of reasons, speaking with English people all the time. But there was something about this particular voice that grabed my attention. And it wasn't just his voice, it was his delivery, and the manner of his sentences. We spoke for a very short time, less than five minutes. In this business there is not much time for small talk.

Our next phone call came perhaps the next day or two days later. Just a check-in really but this time we both managed to divluge some personal information. But still quite surface level--how long have you been working for the company, how are you enjoying it so far--but the questions were always delivered quite friendly and answered somewhat charismatically. The third time we spoke, I had previously sent him a somewhat panicked email apologizing for a delay in the project. He called back to reassure me that there was no rush and ask me what had happened. Our first alliance was built over that conversation and for me it was quite a relief. Most of the people I work around are quite senior to me, so those little details that you eventually learn to accept unconditionally and seem less important after a few years, were still sometimes lost on me. And since we work in such a fast paced environment there are many more important questions to be asked and answered. At least this time, a sarcastic comment wasn't perceived at as immature or inexperienced but, I can only imagine, with a cracked smile and nod.

I instantly found this to be a connection between us. Maybe it was a connection lost on anyone but myself, nevertheless, after that day I started to look forward to our conversations, even if they were short and sweet. Often, a few more personal questions are asked and we both slowly gotten to know a little a bit about one another. Yet, I still do not know what he looks like, how tall he is, what color his eyes are, the color of his skin and hair, or what kind or smile he has. Of course, what someone looks like is not everything but it is often the descriminatory tool you use when you meet a stranger for the first time. Whether or not you always want to admit it, the way in which someone looks play a big roll in your initial interest in that person.

Ok, before I go on, I will admit I have somewhat of a weakness for English accents. There is something charming and commanding in them as well as innately intelligence--maybe even a bit arrogant and snobbish but at times this can be a very attractive trait. I have even dated the odd Englishman here and there, so the idea that I find this faceless person's voice sexy is not a surprise. Rather, it surprises me how excited I get at even the thought of speaking with him. In the beginning it was his voice that I found to be a turn-on but as I have gotten to know a little more about him, I have not only found his voice to be sexy and charming but he, without knowing all of him, has become so as well. Clearly, it is not only physical and maybe I am attracted to him only because I don't know him therefore he truely has become the unattainable man.

I will only be in this position for a few more weeks before moving. I am sad to admit it but this will probably become the end of our converstations unless I suddenly find myself in London. He is like the pen-pale I once had when I was 12: I sometimes feel closer to those who don't me than with those who do. At the very least, he gave me butterflies during sometimes long and tedious days.

And if I do move to London well I won't hesititate to ask him for a drink. Let's just hope he doesn't have a girlfriend--a subject I doubt we will ever touch upon.

Break-up or Break-out?

2007-07-18T21:55:00.000+01:00

I realized the other day that a number of these posts were written with one particular subject in mind. A real first for me. Usually, to post or to publish about one person allows me to free them from the grips of my subconscious--apparently I judged this one too soon. And in fact, I had. It had only been the upward climb along the roller coasters tracks-- I hadn't even felt the effects of what happens when you go down and then back up again, and then down and up...

Perhaps, I shouldn't have played into his games: his text message Friday evening provoked my "I'm too busy" response, followed by his "tomorrow?" The game began again early Saturday--a call at 11am could mean only one of two things and it would have been incredibly out of character for him to suggest we walk through the park holding hands. I refused a second time. If this was what we had finally surmounted to, well, I was at least going to enjoy it.

I consulted girlfriends, claiming I needed advice on how to deal with this new development. I knew what I was most likely going to do with or without their advice but I still needed to mull it over for some time. One friend told me I was nuts and was going to get hurt even if I said I was indifferent. Another said that I should go for it as long as I knew what I was doing, which made me wonder: do we ever really know what we are doing? I had no clue at that point but I knew I didn't want to appear too eager or obvious by the fact that I was over joyed we would be seeing each other again.

Later that day, I agreed to meet him for a nightcap. Code for guaranteed sex. It wasn't that I was desperate but the fact that I knew I would be comfortable. He knew what I liked and I knew what he preferred. I was tempted by the fact that no matter what happened the next day I would enjoy it.

The rest of the day passed in slight agony. I wasn't sure if I had made the right decision and worse, I was somewhat fearful that he might change his mind about the entire rendez-vous when the time came. I should have canceled right then and there because twenty minutes before we were supposed to meet he text messaged that he was too tired to see me. I wanted to throw-up or at least write a nasty text back but I did neither. Instead I promptly deleted it, put on my heals, and went out. I was not playing anymore and I would only admit indifference. Martinis and vodka shots at the bar down the street would suffice.

Two weeks later, I was out with friends enjoying one of those nights you could never plan. I hadn't spoken to him since the night he pulled out but his radar must have gone off again. "Where are you?" the message read. I gave in this time for no other reason to take what I had wanted to take from him previously. Fueled by liquid courage, I arrived at his apartment ready to pick a fight and of course he found it to be a turn on.

I left his apartment the next morning, practically sneaking out in the same manner that I had the first time we had spent the night together. "Got back together with my man last night but I think I was dreaming, he didn't feel quite right," ran through my head as I walked the few blocks home. What I hadn't realized was that it wouldn't be the same anymore because I wasn't the same anymore. Selfish sex is only fun during a one night stand not when you've projected everything you want someone to be onto him. He won't ever deliver.

In real time, it took another week for me to realize this when he stood me up for an engagement he promised he would accompany me to. But the wonderful thing about it was I finally got it through my head that I was completely wasting my time! And between all those broken promises I found something even great--the confidence to demand more.

-C

What is it About Men?

2007-06-16T12:03:00.000+01:00

A little more than a month after my last torrid affair, I was finally starting to feel better about its ending. Perhaps some of my angst came from the fact that the ending, well, wasn't really an ending. It was more like pushing the hold button indefinitely, something I wasn't entirely O.K. with but it made me feel better about all the time I had spent thinking about the relationship and where it was headed (apparently only into the abyss of 'what if').

However unsatisfying the sort of non-ending was, it did relieve me of the immediate expectations that had left me disappointed so many times before. I knew there was no need to check my messages twelve times a day wondering if he'd called. I knew he wouldn't and I needed to know this solidly and without exception to be able to move on. In the beginning, it worked for all of five days before he did send me a message. It was the first day of this new official status for us and he was sending me a message! How dare he, I thought at first and then false hope set-in. We were supposed to be moving on and he was calling me, which must have meant that he didn't really want to move on.

Yet, we kept our distance from one another, perpetuated by the fact that we were both extremely busy but we didn't break communication from one another all together. One message lead to another and soon enough I realized I was making plans to tentatively meet up. In the meantime, I was spending time with friends and going out to new places in attempt to meet someone new. A few days ago, I did happen to meet someone I thought was very cute. And he was from Brazil-- a place I have never visited before. We hit it off right away and those initial hours when you first meet someone new had been forgotten until then. Those little nuances and ways in which you try to touch one another, the excuses you come up with to stay longer, and finally that first goodbye.

Everything leading up to that first goodbye indicated that it would be as great as the rest of the night. And while I can't say it was completely awful it just wasn't what I entirely expected. It was the person haunting my subconscious and it was those fireworks I was desperately seeking. Thinking about it now, it is no wonder I felt so disappointed-- I put everything I've got into that first kiss! It was strange and unfamiliar, which strikes a cord with curiosity and desire for more but in this case it just wasn't everything I wanted it to be.

Nevertheless, it was exciting and I wasn't opposed to getting to know this Brazilian some more. The next night we met up again...late. And after I had already been out with friends. It was probably not the best time to see one another again for only our second meeting. But I was feeling reckless--I needed to prove to myself that I could have whatever I wanted. That was a mistake since I was simply projecting my lost desires onto someone else, so of course when I did invite him back to my apartment I was extremely disappointed at the performance.

Amazingly, I didn't care much either. It was not what I wanted and there was no use in getting hung-up about it. As someone who has a hard time admitting to herself how much she might care about certain people and certain situations, I finally let myself realize that I just wasn't ready to move and it was probably time to start dealing with that.

Yet, what is is about men? If the saying is true, all you need to get a date is another date, then the one who I truly desired's radar went off because not less than 12 hours about the Brazilian, he called. Be careful what you wish for they might ultimately say!

-C

My thought of the week....

2007-05-11T01:12:00.000+01:00

Is it really true? If you let someone go they will come back to you? My idealistic, Sagittarius side wants to say yes! And perhaps, like a multiple choice exam I should just stick to my instincts... But if it is true, life does not play fairly.

?

My Final Confession, "Relationship Guru" published in The Planet, May 2007

2007-05-01T19:14:00.000+01:00

This might sound a little dramatic but when did our generation become so unavailable? Yes, yes, I realize that this is a gross generalization but since I began writing this column three years ago it has become clear that the notion of availability has been my underlying theme. And maybe that is simply a comment about me; yet, it seems ironic too. We have every possible means of communication available to us and with one five word sentence in a text message, we can throw off our entire day analyzing every possible meaning it could hold (or is that just me?!).

Since January, I have been seeing one guy who at times has provided me with the greatest of satisfactions and other times has left me bewildered. We have had a lot of fun together—I guess you could say we clicked. But what has baffled me about the entire relationship has been the number of times I assumed the fling was up (my evidence being the fact that he has a terrible habit of disappearing) and then out of no where he would suddenly appear again—sweet, endearing, affectionate, and seemingly sincere.

But maybe I’ve read too much into it. What if all I have been in his eyes is the 23-year old woman who is just out for a good time and didn’t need any follow-up. In a lot of ways I have played that role beautifully: I never asked anything from him; I wasn’t dramatic, incessant, or demanding. I did everything I could to just play it cool. And I would have been more than willing to walk away at anytime. Maybe that’s where I haven’t been smart and why he felt as if he could wander away whenever he felt like it. I was seemingly indifferent to the relationship, and he, happily uncommitted.

To my own defense this is the only way I know how to act when I really start to like someone. My fear of vulnerability and getting hurt overwhelms my ability to act myself completely. This inevitably leads to game-playing—calculated game playing even. In the beginning the games were fun to play because they made everything exciting. If he wouldn’t call me for a week then I would wait a few days before calling him back; if I hadn’t seen him for a while I would work extra hard to make sure I looked stunning. He was never slow to compliment me and I got to act like I had barely thought about what I was wearing.

My own attempts at intimacy usually left me a little scared and running for the door. For instance, there was one morning when I could have spent the entire day in bed with him—I had no place to go all day. Instead, I woke up, a little overwhelmed at the idea that I could stay there all day and after two unsuccessful attempts at falling back asleep, I quietly got out of bed, got dressed, and whispered good bye. I spent the rest of the afternoon alone in my apartment wondering what was wrong me. However, I don’t think I have been the only one afraid of where we were headed. He always seemed to partake in his disappearing act after we would spend a really great night together. It is hard not to trivialize those moments because of that very fact. But how do you deal with the intensity of a moment you are not sure even happened or had as much significance as you felt it had?

The worst moment was, however, the night he added the final touches to the canvas he had created of me—that I had let him create. We were discussing “us”, which I should add he brought up, when he told me that he loved telling his friends about me because I wasn’t dramatic. I seemed to get him and the fact that he needed his space and I didn’t make a big deal out of it. I was frozen by that comment. In some ways it was flattering. I had succeeded at being completely unavailable. I appeared not to be looking for anything in particular, and as he said, I might just be doing the college thing. I am still not sure what that even meant but I guess he assumed I was just having fun. That left me very little room for expressing what it was I really wanted. And instead of breaking the mold, I kept all my thoughts to myself, too afraid to hear the truth because if he told me what I wanted to hear then I finally got what I wanted and if he didn’t, well, then I would have to walk away from the situation altogether.

Since not seeing him for a few weeks—this perhaps being the longest we haven’t seen one another but one of the times we have been in the most contact with one another (that being relative), I am starting to feel hurt by the situation. There are so many questions I want to ask him and so many things I need to say for myself. But I am afraid to make those demands because I might have to experience heartache for the very first time.

So maybe not much has changed in three years but I think I am finally ready to start exploring what it is I really want.

The Definiton of Maturity? "Relationship Guru" published in The Planet, February 2007

2007-05-01T10:41:00.000+01:00

Finding romance on a Monday night seems too cliché for even the cheesiest of romance novels and in fact that is just what Chiara Forbes thought on a particularly chilly Monday night as she walked into the Hotel Costes. Meeting friends for dinner, she had been quite productive for a weekday (not forgetting once again that it was a Monday) and hadn’t even managed to run home and change: jeans, boots, and the fun but professional top would have to do.

Normally, Chiara found herself to frequent the fashionable bar in the particularly trendy hotel but that evening dining in the backroom was a nice change of scenery. While she hated to call dinner uneventful, dining with some of her close coupled friends always left her a little more drunk than everyone else and curious to see who might be in the bar that night—there had to be one regular who could entertain Chiara before heading home, especially since it was not even midnight yet.

She tentatively made plans with Alex whom she loved to sit at the bar with and laugh at the self-important people who walked down the steps but knew there would be a good chance he might stand her up that night: not that he wasn’t reliable but he hated when she called him half drunk from a bar wanting company. Sliding onto the only open bar stool, Chiara begin chatting with the bartender and accidentally bumped into the guy sitting next to her. They confusedly spoke French and English before settling on English when he mentioned that he had spent a significant amount of time in New York even attending college close to where Chiara grew up. Two years of trendy bar hopping in Paris had taught Chiara one thing: an interesting guy was a rare commodity. As the text messages flowed in from Alex explaining he probably wouldn’t make it, Chiara responded “no problem!” provoking the inevitable phone call “what do you mean it’s ok?” Laughing coyly, Chiara stepped away from the bar to explain she was having fun and Alex snickered: abandoning co-dependency in favor of potential vulnerability was also rare.

The next day, making her way home, Chiara knew she may have just spoiled any future possibilities with this new guy but in typical fashion brushed it off. It had been a Monday and romance never occurred on a Monday. But later that night she received a text from him and couldn’t help but smile when he said he wanted to see her again. A few days later, Chiara spent another fabulous evening with him and she feared the worst: she might actually like this guy. It wasn’t necessarily a problem of being interested but rather a question of emotions. For the next week and half Chiara felt she was riding an emotional roller coaster. The moment he would call or text the adrenaline rush of excitement would get her through the next two days before she heard from him again but by day three, if she hadn’t heard anything, she felt as if she was at the tipping point. The moment you arrive at the top of the coaster right before you plummet can either be screams of excitement or general disappointment.

That is when Chiara realized how vulnerable she was and it was at that moment she thought she needed to destroy it all before her emotions got the better of her. So on one particularly confusing Saturday evening, she fought the urge to call him and tell him whatever irrational thing came to mind, which would guarantee that he would never call her again. And if it hadn’t been for one rational voice, she may have just gone ahead and done it. Not because she wanted to sabotage the new, potential relationship but because she couldn’t allow his moves to dictate her moods. A week of irrational thinking from a normally carefree girl had started to get to her. Instead, she took a step back and realized that if she wanted to make an improvement on her dating record she would simply have to ignore him as a matter of principle. Through the haze of irrationality came one clear thought: you can’t sabotage something that isn’t yours. Sure, it would have been easy to throw her arms up, stomp her feet for attention, and storm off frustrated that she—gasp—actually admitted to herself that she liked a guy and wanted to see him again.

Maybe he sensed it or simply wondered where she had been for the past few days and in reaction asked her out a few days later. Chiara squealed with excitement; Alex rolled his eyes. But the game was not over; it still isn’t over even. Chiara had made it past level one and when she found herself with him again, meeting some of his friends, she realized how trivial yet crucial level one actually was, and couldn’t help but smile.

“How long have you two known each other,” one woman asked in French.
“Depuis quelques semaines,” she responded. For a few weeks seemed more ironic in French she thought to herself as the woman smiled slightly rolling her eyes. Chiara wasn’t sure how to react to it but didn’t respond nevertheless—if she had learned anything from the emotional roller coaster it was that as long as she remained confident it didn’t matter what anyone thought. (Plus, the backless top she was wearing earned her the attention she had wanted to stomp her feet for before.)

What surprised Chiara was how rational she became about the whole situation. He was affectionate, attentive, and didn’t give her the satisfaction of always being there; he didn’t message her five times a day, call her at the same time everyday or make his next move obvious, which was exactly what drove her mad but kept her interested. Chiara knew that the moment he became available was the moment that she would stop responding. She also realized that nothing was holding them together but general curiosity and interest. When she weighed her day-to-day activities against the few nights they had spent together Chiara knew there was not enough information to evaluate, which was exactly why she couldn’t sabotage what wasn’t hers to sabotage. Perhaps that is what the beginning of a new relationship is really about: it is not about experience or cleverness but our own acceptance of the dating rules; if we expect instant gratification (like we expect someone to text us immediately back) then we will be driven to act out that irrational behavior and ultimately be disappointed that it all went wrong with no one but ourselves to blame.

Sassy Spring Flings "Relationship Guru" published in The Planet May 2006

2007-05-01T10:37:00.000+01:00

A couple of days ago I ran into a friend who couldn’t wait to tell me about the great luck she was having with men lately. She explained that over the past four weeks she had gone on three different dates with three different men. And, on top of it she had a great time with all of them, gloating from the fact that now she had three options and was more than happy to test drive them all for a little while. As she told me her story, which was not at all cynical and actually resembled the freshness of a spring day I suddenly realized, spring is back in full fling.

Everyone’s stock is up and the dating market is in full bloom. Maybe it’s because the city is back to life again, the streets are friendlier, and everywhere you turn the Eiffel Tower is provoking you, stirring up your carnal urge for excitement that had been stifled by the cold and dreary winter. Pulling off the winter coats and replacing them with fresh vibrant colors, you can’t help but feel more attractive. Sexual tensions are everywhere. Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder if our stocks are up and the market is rising with no end in sight how fast will it fall and what will the impact be when we come back down to earth?

I have to admit; even though everyone’s value is rising in exponential ways, I didn’t necessarily feel I was prospering. Over the period of the last three months I dated two different men and just when I was ready to sell my stock something always seemed to come up. The first guy, Fabrice, was incredibly sexy, charming, and great with his mouth. We had met through our circle of friends and it seemed like it could have been a perfect relationship: we hung out in the same social setting, enjoyed each other’s company and his brown puppy dog eyes made my knees weak. It was your typical fling, in all senses of the word. For the short time period that it lasted I found that I was constantly pinching myself to make sure that it was actually happening. He had a talent for performing magic tricks and I made the mistake of asking if there was one specific trick he could perform: a disappearing act. To my surprise he could and after about a week I stopped wondering when he would reappear.

A few weeks later an America lawyer who worked and lived in Paris took me out on a very sophisticated date. On top of the expensive bottles of champagne he threw me for a loop when he told me that he was soon leaving for New York for six months and wanted me to come and visit him. Thinking that it was the most elaborate ploy to get a girl into bed I just sort of laughed at him. He went to Harvard and that was the best he could come up with! But I have to confess, I was intrigued- a free trip to New York and a constant flow of expensive champagne was tempting. We continued to see one another over the next few weeks and I found my passion for him mounting. We had great conversations; even better chemistry and hours flew by in minutes. He continuously asked me to come to New York and on the brink of saying yes it all came crashing down. His trip to New York was going to be proceeded by a vacation that he had been planning for months but the catch was he was going with an “ex”-girlfriend. When I asked him what he expected out of the trip he replied, “if all goes well, she’s the one I want to be with.”

Ironically the day he told me this was a Tuesday and it couldn’t have felt blacker than that Black Tuesday of October 1929. After three weeks of pumping me up, he couldn’t have sold my stock any faster or made me feel any more devalued than with one sentence. It wasn’t the fact that there was some other girl but more the fact that he had been so over the top with everything and acted like the future between us was endless. Two days before he was suppose to leave and our last night together he told me how he was sorry to have put me through this and admitted that he had no idea what he wanted anymore, which was supposed to be a hopeful sign for me. Before he left my apartment he told me to expect to hear from him some time at the beginning of May and his departing words were, “see you in New York.”

While it might be debatable what constitutes the beginning of May, after the second week of May was halfway through I assumed he wouldn’t be buying anymore of my stock no matter how many times I checked my email or looked to see if I had any missed calls.* And then the most wonderful thing happened. A few nights ago I met up with some friends and on my way to meet them I got a text from my best friend saying, “Fabrice is here!” One of the many wonderful things about girlfriends is there ability to raise your stock value in seconds. I walked into the bar feeling confident and slightly sassy. I couldn’t have played my cards better when by the end of the night my stock was back on the market. It is amazing how fast you can rocket when someone asks about the possibility of a second chance. That’s when I realized how much my stock was worth: priceless.

If spring flings are worth anything, they teach you how to survive the crash. If you can pick yourself up, brush of the dust and dirt from your hands and knees, slip on a new par of sexy stilettos and throw your head back and laugh, then you know the dating market is all fluff. Instead of valuing yourself on what didn’t work out you can begin to take into value the experiences you just had and you never know, your phone might start to ring again when you least expect it.

9 May 2006

*One side note, the lawyer did eventually call me again...six months later when he came back to Paris! I made the tragic mistake of getting back together with him (see I really don't learn anything from these columns!), but I was not fooled a third time!

The Boy Who Cried Date "Relationship Guru" published in The Planet, 19 February 2006

2007-05-01T10:36:00.000+01:00

We all know the story of the boy who cried wolf: he lied so many times that a wolf was in the sheep pasture that when a wolf finally did show up no one believed him and consequently, the wolf ate all the sheep. Children learn this fable to understand the ramifications of even the simplest lie and for a little while it works- that is until we become adults at least.

Last November a very cute French police officer asked me out for a drink. Since we had friends in common and he came highly recommend by one of these friends, I agreed to go. Unfortunately his timing couldn’t have been worse since finals were fast approaching. Finally, I managed to find time in between papers and studying but then my timing couldn’t have been worse: he was leaving on vacation for a week but promised to call upon his return. Two weeks later finals came and went and he still hadn’t called. I brushed it off genuinely relieved that the stress of the end of the semester had finally lifted- the last thing on my mind was the fact that a guy I barely knew hadn’t called me.

However, two days before I was suppose to leave for winter break, my Frenchman walked into the bar I was working in. A dull and dreary Saturday afternoon, I was quiet surprised to see him because I hadn’t expected to hear, let alone see him again. As he apologized for not calling and claimed that he still wanted to go out, my ego finally kicked in. Smugly, I explained to him that I was leaving for about a month and watched the disappointment wash across his face. “Well, when you get back then?” he asked eagerly. “Sure,” I replied casually and thought to myself, we’ll see.

Winter break came and went and when I arrived back in Paris I had no messages from him and once again figured he had moved on since it had been a while since we had seen or talked to one another. But after the first week of classes were over, I received a text message from him asking if I was back in the city. I replied yes and he responded by asking me out again. We arranged to meet up the following Wednesday and when I didn’t hear from him all day I started to get a little annoyed. Finally he text messaged me to say that he was sorry but he was stuck at work and wasn’t going to be able to make it. I said I understood and that he should call me soon.

We arranged to meet the following week but then something came up. The next week he asked me out again and when our designated day came and went without any word I started to get a little angry. However, three days later I got an apologetic phone call explaining that he has been incredibly busy at work. When the next week came and went in the same fashion, I was ready to tell him not to call anymore (whenever he finally did decide to call). Except this time, he came into the bar I work at and hung out for a few hours. Of course the moment he walked through the door I forgot all the things I had planned to say and accepted whatever excuse he threw at me along with his, “I promise we will meet up on Tuesday.” (Did I mention he is really cute?!)

But even the last time we were supposed to meet, I got a text message apologizing that he wouldn’t be able to see me because he was stuck in bed with a temperature. It took everything inside me not to respond, “bon, toujours des excuses!” I realized, however, that I would look completely heartless if he really was sick. However, heartless or not, I am beginning to wonder what is wrong with this guy? Perhaps he is really busy (sneer) but to be honest it doesn’t make much sense. First of all he could at least have the courtesy to call me when he says he is going to call and second of all why does he keep bothering to ask me out? It appears that I am being played by someone I barely know! I haven’t done the typical girl thing and call him 15 times when he doesn’t call nor do I bitch or yell. But I have found that I am making excuses for him in front of my girlfriends, almost as if I am secretly routing for him to not let me down just once so I can prove I am not a complete idiot.

And of course each time I have to disappointedly explain that no, we did not meet up again, my girlfriends raise their eyebrows and look at me with slight suspicion. Some are sympathetic but others can’t help but tell me what they really think. One friend suggested that maybe he just wants the satisfaction of a positive response whenever he asks a girl out; another thought that if he can’t even commit to a first date than he is probably terrified of commitment. A third friend can only look at me with disdain, in comprehensive of why I keep accepting his excuses. But none of this reasoning really answers my question. It is only a first date after all, if it doesn’t work out then it doesn’t work out. There is no need to be afraid of a future that hasn’t happened yet.

Yet, whichever his reason, I have figured out one thing: the Frenchman is either very smart or very stupid. He is stupid for leading me on before the date because if someone else comes along there is no stopping me from going out with him and leaving the police man behind. But I think he is smarter than that. He has gotten me so involved in the idea of actually dating him that I can’t think of doing anything but that. He knows I probably won’t refuse because I am completely fixed on the idea of going on at least one date with him. If I was smart, I would just tell him no the next time he asks but if I say no it is over and all that would be left is the “what if” factor.

However, I am slightly surprised that I am still standing at square one with him; I am getting the attention a guy gives to a girl when he asks her out for the first time, except I have said yes to the same first date more times than I would like to count! Above all it is hard to conclude on something that has not even begun and in some ways I feel like I am being forced to write the conclusion to a forty-page paper before I have even come up with the thesis. But thesis statement or not, what is clear is that all the cards have been dealt and the bets have all been called- it is finally time for someone to reveal the winning hand.

19 February 2006

Uncovering the Undercover "Relationship Guru" published in The Planet, 24 January 2006

2007-05-01T10:34:00.000+01:00

A few days ago I ran into a good friend at a bar and standing next to him was a girl I had never seen before. After talking for a few minutes I realized that they were on date, so I kissed my friend goodbye and told him to call me soon. A week later we met for coffee and I said to him, well, there you go, you found yourself a new girl. He looked at me and simply said, no she’s not it.

Luc, an undercover police officer in Paris, broke up with a woman over six months ago, whom he says broke his heart. Even four months after the break-up Luc would tell me that he was just going to have to be a bachelor for the rest of his life because he wouldn’t know how to deal with another woman wrenching out his heart. When he told me that the first time I tried not to be cynical but I couldn’t help saying, oh please! The same thing happens to women everyday and we move on! But after seeing him more recently with this new women full of great qualities, to hear him tell me that she just wasn’t it brought a new perspective to his situation.

As we continued talking about the new girl he had started seeing he told me (and in typical French fashion) “It’s too bad. She is a nice girl; pretty and friendly but it is just not going to work.” He said it with no remorse but perhaps a little disappointed that he wasn’t going to be able to marry her. Yet, he did surprise me when I asked him if she knew that yet, since they were meant to be seeing one another later that day. He responded that of course he was going to tell her because “you have to always be honest,” For the rest of the day I was haunted by that conversation. For the past two months I have been in hiding from men and relationships; I have needed time to recover from my wounds and as much as I have wanted to go out, find a great guy and enjoy my time with him the whole process seems to be too much work. I couldn’t criticize Luc for dating women he knew he probably wouldn’t talk to again in three weeks. While it is slightly insensitive to casually date someone who may want more, isn’t our first duty to ourselves? There is no use in dating someone and pretending that you will be around for the next year when all you are interested in is a little fun for a few weeks.

That’s when I realized the difference between Luc and I. Luc needs to date different women in order to remind himself of what he is looking for and to see that he has not quite found it yet while I on the other hand need to be alone and lose myself in my work to remind myself that I will be ok; I don’t always need to dating someone (especially if they are going to hurt me) to feel good about myself. Yet sometimes he can’t understand why I am not dating anyone and I don’t quite see the need to date women he doesn’t really want to be with.

But when I look around I sense that Luc and I are not the only ones with our own little quirky systems that might not necessarily be helpful but make ourselves feel better. One of my friends won’t give herself over to a relationship that she deep down probably wants to be in because that means the field is leveled and no one has control. Another friend resorts to pushing away the ones she loves because it is easier to walk away from something where people are upset with you instead of being sad to see you leave. One girlfriend jumps from guy to guy so there is always something fresh to look at while another tries to smile past all the pain and disappointment that may be happening in her life.

Ironically, there is probably nothing wrong with any of us- people simply need to do what they need to do. There is no time for judgment or advice; we all know what works best for ourselves. Yet, I can’t help wondering, what are we missing? If something so significant has happened in our lives that cause these reactions there must be consequences. I may feel comfortable coming home every night from class or work, alone with my DVD collection and the Chinese take-out next door but am I really satisfied with it? The Chinese food eventually loses its flavor and the same episode of Friends or Sex and the City gets redundant.

The good thing about life is that time moves on and as we approach the end of another year I can at least say, hey I’ve go some experience, so look out! It doesn’t matter that seeing all the happy couples in the airport at this time of year makes me slightly sick nor does it matter that this year I probably won’t have anyone to kiss as the ball drops. I do, like all my friends, have the knowledge of what is best for myself and as much as men sometimes infuriate me with their disregard for women’s feelings they may have gotten something right: don’t try to resuscitate something that is already dead and don’t wear stale, dirty socks too many times (i.e. stay away from the Chinese food!). My male roommate is often my best inspiration. I can’t count how many times he has said to me, “Cass, it is just for fun. If you are not having fun than don’t do it.”

Eventually, after the boxes of Chinese food have stacked up and I have literally worn through all the DVDs I am going to go out again. I may even call that cute guy who asked me out for a drink the other day; in fact, I think I will.

Jet-Setter's Regret "Relationship Guru" published in The Planet, 12 September 2005

2007-05-01T10:33:00.000+01:00

Ever since I was a little girl I have always loved films where the hero or heroine is jetting around the world. I wanted to be that character that suddenly finds himself in a strange land, forced to adapt to a different language and different culture. I always imagined myself as the person who was forced to cleverly manage sticky situations and who could charm an entire army without saying a single word.

And in reality I have managed to do those things in my own way. While I have never actually wooed the Soviet Army to dance with me instead of kill me nor have I ever saved an entire village from destruction with only a piece of rope, fishing line and some quick thinking, I like to think that I have accomplish certain feats all on my own. For any person who has found himself lost in Paris at 4am, just making it back to your doorstep on a street in which you can’t remember the name seems pretty impressive. And sometimes just making it through the day in Paris without being on the verge of tears because of something the French do different feels like a step up on maturity.

Yet, whichever feeling motivates me to keep moving in the world and encourages me to satisfy that travel itch, I am always happy to hop on plane and explore somewhere new. And after spending the summer in yet another place I made my biannual check in with my family and got the most emotionally challenging yet exciting experience to date.

Now, the problem with constantly jet-setting around the world is that you are always moving. Relationships, whether platonic or romantic, are often tested and besides the few exceptions, they only last for so long before both parties seem to grow apart. Romantically I have never been too disappointed because I have always been excited to see what and who else were out there. It never mattered that it didn’t work out with guy A because guys B and C could just be around the corner where I was headed.

So when I went home for five days I never expected to meet a man who was not only better than guys A-M so far but also made me question if I even wanted to meet guys O-W (which only makes you question whether there will ever be a guy Z!). Amongst all the feelings that were driving through my body all I could think of doing was complaining! It was so unfair! There I was, days before I had to board a plane and I was trying to come up with excuses as to why I couldn’t pack my bags.

As I boarded the plane two short days later I found myself wondering where was all this world traveling leading me to? Ironically it seemed to lead me back home. But despite any feelings I may have had for this man our paths were headed in a completely different directions and there was nothing controllable about that. Perhaps it was the fact that I hadn’t known him for very long or the idea of him was so irresistible but as I sat in the airport less than twenty-four hours later I couldn’t help questioning not whether this man was the perfect man but whether he was the perfect man for me. Or was it simply the idea of him that was perfect? Or was he perfect because he was unattainable, which meant anything could be possible.

But then who am I kidding? This man, the man who appeared to stick out from all the train wreck relationships of my past, could end up being the same as all the men I have met so far; except that I will never know. While there is always a frightening aspect to the unknown there can also be something comforting about it too. If you never truly know a person than they can remain in whichever spotlight you want them to be in. There is no emotional messiness and the only person you can blame for feeling hurt is yourself.

However, living like this seems slightly shallow. Yes, it might keep you from feeling betrayed; hurt, disappointed or even vulnerable it is also a pretty lonely way to live. But I have learned to accept that with some people you have to let it run its course: you cannot force a relationship nor can you hide from it. Yet for as much as I pride myself on my mobility and eagerness to be somewhere exotic, I suddenly find myself having to leave again when every bone in my body wants to stay rooted—and that is my jet-setters regret.

12 September 2005

Risky Business "Relationship Guru" published in The Planet, 25 October 2006

2007-05-01T10:32:00.000+01:00

Over the past few years it seems I’ve had a bad string of relationships. They all began the same: fun, flirty and exciting, followed by an elated few days only to climax at nothing. That’s right, I have found every kind of “nice” guy out there. In the beginning I am amazing, beautiful, gorgeous, the fantasy of one man for almost four years yet some how I keep finding myself back at square one alone and hurt. I can’t help feeling like I am stuck in some vicious circle where there is no exit.

At first I just wrote it off as stupid men. They didn’t know how to deal with such a fantastic woman. They didn’t understand how to be with a self-sufficient, independent, slightly outspoken American. But by the third time this had happened, and with someone who I was a friend with for almost four years, I began to wonder if the problem wasn’t the guy but if it was me. Was there something incredibly wrong with me that after a man spent a few days with me he had to get away? One dropped me (literally!) for a friend of mine, another decided his job was of more importance than me, yet another claimed bad timing, while the last one hasn’t said anything because he hasn’t talked to me since he brought me to the airport. The pattern seems clear enough; the one thing they had in common was me.

So what is so wrong with me that I send men running and screaming in the opposite direction? Am I too much to handle? I have never thought of myself as high maintenance, maybe a bit melodramatic (I tend to stomp my feet when I am really mad) but never high maintenance. I also am pretty easy to talk too. Sure, I might be a bit judgmental, and very opinionated but I will always listen when asked. And just because I grew up somewhat sheltered and was not necessarily spoiled but learned how to get what I wanted doesn’t mean I can’t identify with other people from different backgrounds as myself.

Personally, I don’t think I am all that bad. But then they say you never truly know someone until you have shared their bed. Out of all these relationships I am blown away by the most recent situation and my inability to move on. I met this man almost four years ago through a mutual friend. We had kept in touch for the past few years even though at times we were thousand’s of miles apart. Our relationship was entirely platonic and from my side of things I never imagined it to be anything but that.

A few months ago I went to visit him and his girlfriend at the time. Apparently things were not so great with his girlfriend because after he and I spent a few hours together talking and as I was getting ready for a date myself, he mentioned how much he wished he was the one taking me on the date. Slightly shocked by this remark but not entirely surprised because of an earlier conversation we had had that day. I laughed it off. Two months after this occurred my friend had broken up with his girlfriend and was eager to make plans to see me again. After his remark from before I had begun thinking about what it would be like to be with him.

Still unsure of what I wanted (because I was afraid to ruin our friendship) I made plans to see him alone. The weekend was fantastic, or so I thought. We spent four days hanging out, arranging the new house he had just bought and being alone together. Yet, as soon as I returned to Paris he became completely M.I.A. And still I have not heard a word from him. Unlike all the rest of the men who blew me off this one really hurts. Not only have I lost a good friend, but also a man who said he had been thinking of me from the day we met. Am I just an utter disappointment? Or since he got what was previously unattainable he can now move on? Did I walk straight into the trap? Worst of all he doesn’t talk to me and suddenly I am dealing with someone who I have never known. This is not the friend who I kept in touch with all these years and this is definitely not the man I wondered what it would be like to have a relationship with. How is it that we can go from being so close with someone and caring so much for him or her to pretending that they don’t exist?

Pride keeps me from calling him or sending that angry email. But there are moments when every bone in my body wants to scream at him and demand answers to all my questions. But past experience tells me most men don’t respond to directness very well and they most definitely don’t respond to angry women well. So I am left wondering when and if the phone will ring. Time feels like it is standing still with him while real life is moving forward even faster. Like any other human being I am forced to succumb to the movement of time; there are papers to write, tests to study for and deadlines to meet.

All the while, through the haze of emotions I have felt over the past few weeks- sadness, hurt, anger, confusion, disappointment, insecurity, I have started to feel that at almost 22 no man is worth this much of my emotional time or energy. I should be having fun, dating different people and not getting too attached so that I can have lots of great experiences. But instead I am living vicariously through a Maria Carey or Kelly Clarkson song. One minute I am telling myself to “shake it off”, while the next I am thinking, “ I hate myself for losing you.”

What gets me the most is how reluctant I was to get involved with him in the beginning and if it hadn’t been for his persistence I am not sure if I would have taken the risk to begin a relationship with him. But I took the risk because I assumed it would be risk free. So at least I have learned one thing, nothing is free in life and nothing is ever risk free. You have to take your chances but be aware that taking a chance is taking a chance. The French meaning for chance is luck, which is probably the best way to look at taking a chance- hoping for some luck. Next time, when I decide to take a chance on a relationship I am not only going to hope for some bonne chance but I will also be whistling a different tune by Elton John:
“Don’t go breaking my heart.”

To Kiss and To Question "Relationship Guru" published in The Planet, 29 September 2005

2007-05-01T10:31:00.000+01:00

I was recently sitting in the Amex when I over heard a part of a conversation between a girl and a guy I didn’t know. The girl was asking the guy for some advice about another guy she was interested in. Although I didn’t know any of the people involved in the conversation nor did I know the subject of their conversation it was not too hard to figure out exactly what the problem was.
It appeared to be that increasingly common situation: girl likes boy; boy likes girl, well sort of. Girl and boy get drunk and kiss. Girl really likes boy now. Boy still wants to see what is out there.
Back in the Amex, the girl, who was quite attractive and friendly, was confused and hurt. I could almost read what was going through her head: what is wrong with me? Why doesn’t he call me? Why would he have kissed me if he were not going to call? I knew what she was thinking because I have thought those same things before.
As I left the Amex a little while later I began to ask myself, why does this scenario only seem to happen to women? I don’t know many men who sit around wondering why the girl he just made out with hasn’t called him back. Where women are wondering when they will get to see the man again, men seemed to be thinking, cool, I kissed a hot woman. I don’t know many men who worry if a woman will think he is a slut for getting involved too soon or if she is going to call.
However, women love to kiss and tell. We do. I won’t pretend as soon as we get home from a date or a party we don’t call our best friend and reiterate the entire story- at least five times. Not only is it satisfying to tell another person about how happy you are at that moment but if someone else believes that it happened to you than it makes the unbelievable good time you just had even more believable. But when that unbelievably good time is suddenly diminished to an unbelievably good memory because what you expected to happen next doesn’t, the emotional fall can be extreme. Which makes me wonder, if we are able to kiss and tell is it life’s cruel joke to leave us kissing and questioning?
There is an interesting book that came out a year ago titled, He Is Just Not That Into You, by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo. Personally I hated the book- I thought it was restricting and made women look incapable of understanding when they were being blown off. But there is one thing I will give the book credit for: it identifies that women can look at incredibly hopeless situations and somehow formulate the most unrealistic way to make it a hopeful one. For instance, “the reason he is not calling after our great date is because he is afraid of commitment. But if I just wait a little longer, he is suddenly going to realize that if he is going to commit with anyone it will certainly be me.” Or, “he is afraid of starting a relationship with me because I live in Paris and he is only visiting but when he sees me at the bars we always kiss and end up at each other’s apartments by the end of the night. So we are practically in a relationship anyways.”
And the list can go on and on. After receiving a minimum of male attention we are slaphappy with elated emotion when in reality we just need to be slapped out of it. No, it is not a bad thing to be excited about kissing someone and having it feel good; it is a bad thing to think that every person you kiss is the one. Or even sort of the one or even someone who is worth your quality time! If he isn’t calling you, then is he really worth it?
A few days after I had been in the Amex, I was talking with a guy friend about why guys seem to kiss and run. He said to me, “don’t you realize how much control women have? Men are really at the beck and call of women, if they play their cards right.” I wasn’t sure if I agreed with him right away or not. It seemed that to get what we want we had to be able to manipulate people. But, as my friend explained, that wasn’t his point. He simply meant that most men could go out there and find a woman to go home with by the end of it. That, he said, is not too hard. However, finding a woman who doesn’t go home with him at the end of the night and gives him something to look forward to is not as easy. His point was that women have all the power- but if you give yourself up too soon than there is nothing mysterious about either person anymore and if there is nothing other than a physical relationship holding you together than it is only a matter of time before the expiration date is up.
Then my friend asked me this, “why do you think men buy fast, expensive sports cars? To impress women, of course!” While I thought that was a bit extreme, I did see his point. The beginning of a relationship is all about impressions. Is he smart? Is he attractive? Is he funny? Is he boring? Is he sleazy? What would he be like in bed? Does he like me? Among the millions of other questions we ask ourselves, I am pretty sure that men are asking many of the same. But the game is about when to reveal the answers. Like the New York Times crossword puzzle, you hope he can manage it all on his own but eventually you can help him with some of the answers.

Help! Where is my Guidebook?! "Relationship Guru" published in The Planet, orientation issue August 2005 and again August 2006

2007-05-01T10:20:00.000+01:00

Last spring I was dating a guy from Australia. He was wonderful: sweet, caring, kind, and totally smitten for me. We met while I was down in the south of France, where I had once lived, visiting friends. I was so excited after meeting him that I knew I had to go see him again, hoping to take the chemistry between us and build a relationship. After returning back to Paris, we talked every night and I realized how much I was really starting to like him. I knew I couldn’t wait a month or even two weeks to see him again, and without saying anything I booked a flight for the next weekend to Cannes. Trying not to seem too eager, I convinced one of my best friends to come with me; two days before I was suppose to take off I let my Aussie know I was coming back down and he seemed excited at the prospect of seeing me again. However, my giddiness was stifled slightly when the night before I left, I text messaged him and in his response he wrote an answer to my message followed by, “take care gorgeous.”
Now being American, I (along with others who I considered on this matter) would only use the phrase, “take care” when I know that I was most likely never going to see someone again. Or if I had no desire to see someone again it was my polite way of saying, “ok, see you never!” So you can only imagine my reaction when I was a, scheduled to fly back down to see him in less than twelve hours and b, was finally allowing myself to really like a man. I didn’t know what to think! So of course I thought the worst. I imagined it was his nice way of saying you were just a fun little fling for a few days, that he had no intention of seeing me in Cannes let alone visit Paris and I felt foolish. But some how I made myself (in thanks mostly to my great friend) to go to the airport and get on the plane.
Once back in Cannes I started to feel better; maybe it was the sea air or the idea that I was in one of the most beautiful places in the world and it didn’t matter what happened. And almost to my own surprise my Aussie called a few hours after I landed so we could make plans for the night. Phew, I thought, I wasn’t being blown off and once I saw him that night I was able to dismiss any negative thoughts about the ambiguous text. Yet, I was still curious to know what he had meant by it, so I asked. As soon as the concerned words came out of my mouth, the ones about how terribly polite yet cold those words mean to an American, he just began to laugh. He looked me in the eye, with a big grin on his face, “Cass,” in that darling accent, “I say that to my family, it doesn’t mean anything but what it means: take care, I hope you will be okay.”
I felt so silly and so relieved once he told me. And I started to think, as we become foreigners by living in Paris the rules that once applied to interpret someone we are dating (usually there are no rules, it is mostly utter chaos) have even less weight when we leave our own countries and start dating outside our natural boarders. And how do we go about understanding without being unintentionally hurt by what the other person is saying? Is there a systematic process we can apply universally or must we accept the chaos of international dating and just not forget to buy the guidebook?
Out of the two different cities in France that I have now lived in, I have had the opportunity to become involved with men from all over the world: Ireland, England, France, Germany, Australia, New Zealand and even the U.S. Ironically, no matter what country you visit you will still find the emotionally unavailable man, the sleazy man, the a-little-too aggressive man and even the sweet but shy man. Yet despite their similarities all these different men, from many different countries have their own traditions, techniques and personalities that connect to their heritage and their culture. These slight differences are what we have to learn to decipher between a red flag and sweet gesture. We also have to learn to understand what words have a lot of weight and which essentially mean nothing.
But now it seems that we do need the guidebooks- maybe just a little one, which outlines certain stereotypes about men and women from different cultures. Yet wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of international dating? It would seem that we all ended up in Paris for one reason or another and neither of those reasons were because we eat “freedom fries.” Obviously we understand that stereotypes are bogus and to survive at AUP and even in Paris for that matter we have to learn to forget those ignorant ideas. So perhaps an actual guidebook would be a little extreme, maybe we could just buy a little instruction manual or even a little, laminated map?
Or we could go with option number three and just get out there and date! The only way we will ever learn to crack the codes of culture is to go out and date culture, hold cultures hand, kiss culture and even sleep with culture. Perhaps it will be intimidating at first, sitting in bar or at a restaurant with a table full of French people, and you being the only foreigner at the table. But if you don’t do it, you will never know that you can do it, and enjoy it. Claim your world citizenship because boarders are only political.
And then run out and buy my critically acclaimed guidebook to international dating- it hits Parisian bookshelves next week.

Shoud I Stay or Should I Go? "Relationship Guru" published in The Planet 25 April 2005

2007-05-01T10:18:00.000+01:00

The months of May and June have often been a bittersweet time in my life. For the past three years I have found myself at a crossroads to which direction I would go in the following academic year. The year I graduated from high school I had to decide whether I would go to university or hold out on the chance that I would be accepted into a student ballet company in the south of France. By July I had been accepted and unlike most of my peers who were headed off for their freshman year of college, I was packing my bags for Cannes.
The following year, after living and breathing only ballet and the sea air for nine months, I had to decide whether I would continue living and breathing only ballet or make the more practical choice and begin pursuing a degree while still working on a ballet career at Indiana University; I chose the latter. And last year after ending my pursuit as a professional dancer, I found myself yet again at a crossroads. Would I stay in Indiana or move on to something different? Once again I chose to move, here to AUP.
This year, however, I do not find myself at any crossroads and in some ways that is scarier than any of the challenges I have faced in the last three years. What I have begun to realize is that I am more afraid of not going anywhere than going somewhere. So the question that I am forced to ask myself is why am I so afraid to stay in one place where I have begun to develop relationships, learn and understand my environment and plant some roots for myself?
Although moving to a new place seems to be the extreme of my fear of not going anywhere, it is often reflected in many of my day-to-day ventures. In this year alone I have changed my major twice, I have had a few unsuccessful relationships with men and I have even found my group of friends vary since I arrived in Paris. There are very few things that have not changed since I arrived in Paris; I still cannot cook, my metro route to school and my apartment.
Most people would find this relieving; there is not the anxiety of being forced to make new friends, find a new apartment and learn a new route to wherever they find themselves headed every day. But for me I find this fact slightly daunting. It is not because I don’t enjoy living in Paris, nor my great group of friends or even the school that I find myself privy to everyday. Perhaps it is more the idea of being stuck in the same place once again while the “newness” of it all has faded away, like the smell of a new car.
I think we all can attest to the excitement of change. Yes, change is hard and sometimes not for the better, but often it opens us up, forces us to look a situation in a different light and allows us to grow in our own way. For me the idea of somewhere new is like looking at the brochures to a place you are considering. The glossy print and pictures promises the up most opportunity and discovery, as if the institution is just waiting to add your name in somewhere between the lines about what is being offered to the prospective applicant. You begin to imagine yourself among the pictures and place yourself among all the happy, smiling people. It is all so refreshing.
Somehow I can’t get beyond the pictures in the brochure and after all the trials and tribulations of a year in that once new place, I begin to long for new pictures and a new brochure. Yet what I have started to realize is that it is not the smiling pictures that I am so attracted to, it is the fear of being lost amongst all those pictures if I continue where I am. It is my fear that what those pictures and brochures offered will never truly satisfy me.
I found myself as somewhat of a nomad and I have found the fact that I am moving to be a great excuse over the past few years. I have been able to keep from getting too deep into relationships, which has kept me from getting hurt. I have been able to avoid any real romantic relationship because I have never been sure of where I was going and I have not been obligated to decide what I really want to do with my life because conveniently I have to start over again every place I have gone to.
What is this really saying? Do I fear commitment and making any long lasting decisions because I am more scared of that kind of change in my life than any other kind? I am beginning to understand that moving is the easiest thing to do; anyone is capable of doing it. It does not take a mature and rational person to move locations, only a little courage and loads of independence. However, it does take someone rational and mature to look at the situation that they are in and stay because they can recognize that there is more good in staying than throwing up their hands as soon as they are frustrated.
I don’t think I would have every begun to realize this if it hadn’t been for a relationship I recently got out of. While most of the details to the relationship are irrelevant, there is one fact that sticks out clearly for me- for the first time in my life I heard my own excuse used against me. Why wouldn’t the relationship work, I remember asking. Because, he said, his job kept him from having a proper relationship and he wasn’t sure where he would be in the next few months, which forced him to keep his distance. And that’s when I finally understood why I was staying; I have begun a life long romance with Paris and it has begun in a community of people whom I wouldn’t have chosen to be any different. AUP may merely be a launching ground into a still hazy future and my friends may continue to change in shape and size but I know that I am returning to a city that will not force me to find some distance but force me to dig a little deeper below its surface.

Dogs and Sex

2007-05-01T10:15:00.000+01:00

Over the course of one week I found myself in the arms of two different men. Considering the drought I had been in I was pretty excited about this small detail. Neither of the two men was my boyfriend, nor had I had any previous history with either of them. The only thing they had in common was the fact that I met them both whilst drinking a little thing called vodka. Saturday night it was Mike, an older, very successful man who found himself with a lot of money and probably safe to say a huge commitment complex. I wasn’t too worried about commitment on Saturday as we were making-out on the street, nor was I that concerned with it the next morning leaving his fabulous apartment. And it only slightly bothered me that he didn’t ask for my number either. I wasn’t sure how soon I would be running back for more after a somewhat disappointing climax, or lack there of.
The following Thursday my girlfriends and I found ourselves at O’Sullivan’s in the 9th. I probably should have guessed I was going to be a bit crazy when we walked in its door, located only 10 feet away from the actual entrance of the Moulin Rouge (what is it about the Red Light district?). Within minutes I met Ray, an oil rigger from Texas who found himself passing through Paris just for the night on his way home from the Ivory Coast. This time it was his sweet Texan drawl, readiness to buy me yet another drink and his fantastic ability to kiss. What girl’s knees wouldn’t go weak after they are told that they could just be kissed all night? I left him at the bar with swollen lips and an incredible buzz.
The next night I found myself at Poona Lounge, for a friend’s going away party. Unfortunately right about then I really began to put into perspective my actions from the previous nights. Although the sex with Mike needed some work (which I was willing to work on), I still felt a little sad by the fact that I hadn’t heard from him. Sure I knew it was a long shot that a guy would want to call a girl he randomly went home with, so when he called our mutual friend asking for my number and wondering if I was out with everyone I was pretty excited. I may have broken the cardinal rule, no sex on the first night, he had obviously been interested if he found out where I was…or he just wanted to get laid.
Which ever it was, I became even more excited when he kissed me in the bar. And before I let it go any further I stood up for myself, needing to know why he had never asked me for my number or called me himself to find out what I had been doing. I realized there had been initial attraction but I needed to know that if I was about to start something with him again, it could be more than just one night. Mike responded by telling me that he had dropped the ball that morning, unsure of how I was feeling about the situation but he was sorry that he never called.
At that moment I was ecstatic! I was sure something was there, sure he must really like me despite my aloof façade, sure he was going to call me and sure I wanted to kiss him again; I was so sure of myself I fainted right there in the bar! I wish I could admit that Mike made me faint because he was such a great kisser but unfortunately it was probably more of a sign from my body rejecting everything about him, including the lines he was most likely feeding me. My mind may have been spinning from the vodka and his venomous lips but my heart and my gut were certainly telling me the truth.
It didn’t take my head much longer to follow when within an hour after I had fainted and freaked him out, he was flirting with my really good friend- even asking her for her number. I was baffled by his change of attitude as well as hurt and angry. The following day, as my girlfriends and I talked about the strange order of events from the night before, I just couldn’t understand how this guy could go from looking for me and kissing me to totally blowing me off. It wasn’t until one friend brought up the point that I in fact had been kissing someone else merely 24 hours before that I began to wonder how much I had really cared. Was it true emotional attachment or the sex talking? I couldn’t decide. Perhaps I had made a mistake going home with Mike that first night and maybe making out with someone else only a few days later was slightly destructive, but don’t men do it all the time? I have yet to meet a man who would reject an attractive woman and her advances, and if there is more than one a night who’s to stop them.
For some women though this is a more difficult concept. We become attached to things quicker and easier; shoes, clothes; perfume, places and, of course, men. We might feel attracted to all types of men, but we also are not necessarily going to jump in bed with every single one of them. When it comes to finding someone who will care about you and give you what you are looking for there seem to be very few choices. Either we have to settle for random nights of foreign lips, overwhelming feelings of sexual attraction and poor judgment choices, or we have to wait around for someone to call. The question remains, is it worth fooling yourself to find intimacy or should women simply take the high road and wait until the right guy comes along before we allow ourselves to be attached?
Perhaps it is a testament to myself that I was actually upset about being blown off by Mike and feeling slightly guilty about kissing another man while I was developing some sort of feelings for him. As much as I put up a brick wall around myself, I know in the end that I still have feelings. While at the same time, I am not tied down by a set of rules. I made the decision to go home with a man I barely knew conscious of the fact that he might not call or even be the same as I had perceived him to be the night before. In the end though, regardless of the fact that he didn’t ask for my number, I still found myself attracted to him. Although I don’t feel women should be conformist or always play by the rules, I did establish one rule for myself: sex is fantastic, being touched and attracted to is almost overwhelmingly satisfying, but feeling even more alone and unspecial the next day makes it all worth the wait. As the saying goes, if you give a dog the bone on the first try he will only remember you for one thing, which is not necessarily for love or affection.

Great Expectations... "Relationship Guru" first published in The Planet, 3 February 2005

2007-05-01T10:12:00.000+01:00

Over coffee the other day, I was listening to my friend Emmie tell me about a man that until recently, she had been seeing. She first described how great a connection they had had, how well he seemed to understand her, and how intense their chemistry had been. However, a few days before Emmie and this new man were to leave for a long weekend out of Paris, she ran into him at a café sitting with another woman. Delighted to see him on the street unexpectedly, she walked over with a happy grin on her face and leaned in for a kiss. But strangely the guy awkwardly kissed her cheek and before Emmie had any time to react, he was introducing her to his girlfriend of two years.
Emmie came to find out over the next few days that the details of this man’s public relationship were apparently well known amongst their mutual friends, acquaintances and other socially involved people. But, Emmie continued, she was unaware about any of this before she walked in on her pseudo boyfriend playing the game he had played with her, with someone else. And if his relationship was public to everyone else, her relationship with him must not have been as obvious as she had thought.
Although this story already sounds mortifying, we have hardly reached the climax. Aware that my friend was angry and slightly upset about the lies and deceit she had been invited to swim in, Mr. Two face called her a few weeks after their scheduled getaway to explain his “situation.” As the saying goes, the mirror has two faces, my friend’s newest and quickest ending relationship was just one hidden aspect of this guy’s life.
For about as long as Emmie could stomach, she sat there and listened to Mr. Two face explain that while Emmie was probably the love of his life, she could never be more than a sort of mistress in his life. His priorities were to appease his family, which would ultimately satisfy him in the end, or so he claimed. His girlfriend fit a certain mold that he, or they were looking for- she had the right breasts size, perfect full lips, straight, never frizzy hair, and while we are going there, the right size hips to produce the right size children. Her personality allowed him to feel in control but yet she was still interesting enough so that he wouldn’t get too bored, or at least know that when he was done cheating on her with innocent women, she would still have something to say.
As Emmie looked at me in utter disgust, we both couldn’t help but realize that she had found a new level of freakish men. He was dating to find the right genealogy not love or passion. As if he demanded all the women he would seriously consider dating to fill out a questionnaire where all the right answers got you gifts and “love” from him, while any one wrong answer would dump you in a pile of “flawed” characters. He discarded women as if he was scrolling down a list of women he found on an Internet dating service.
On a broader surface the question to ask is when did we all become such “know it alls” about our own life? At the mere age of 20 and if at most 25 we have hardly begun to even understand where we are coming from and where we are all going. Is it really necessary to pick out the people who will mother or father are own children someday now? The great expectations we have in life might just not be that great at all.
While Emmie’s experience might be extreme it is not rare. We are constantly judging people whom we might want to date by a list of criteria, yet at this point I am sure not even half of us would even fit our own criteria. It is as if we are looking for that perfect person to make ourselves into some perfect person. Perhaps we should start reality checking ourselves now, because perfect is only the ending of a fairy tale; it is never the ending of real life.
While in this situation it was a man who provoked this kind of response, woman are no better when it comes to throwing away perfectly wonderful, caring men because there was one specific flaw with him. Of course it is fair to say that if a man is too controlling, abusive or maybe just not very clean we have the right to be choosy. We can even discriminate when it comes to someone’s performance in bed, whether they are too selfish or just completely unaware that the other person is there and deserves elated satisfaction as well (and that suffice to say is an another completely different topic!).
However, when it comes to a person’s personality and who they are in a moment, you cannot expect them to be any more than who they actually are. It is unfair to ask them to hand over a map of their DNA so you are sure they will be the right person. Finding the person who appears to match you intellectually, financially, physically and emotionally will not guarantee a relationship without heartbreak, perhaps it will only keeps you from learning about yourself or about other people.
Yet, it is easy to think that if you did find the right fit person for you, almost scientifically, you will never have to put yourself out there again, that you won’t have to deal with rejection or even one more bad date. Unfortunately in the end though you will never understand real experience, or real life for that matter. Human nature seems to demand that we go where we have never been before, and if we return as the same person as we left as at least we will have had the experience to know what we liked or disliked about who we were before.
And, if all else fails, you can always try the Internet.

**This one caused a lot of stir when the subjects of the article figured out it was about them!**

Bring on the Resolutions! "Relationship Guru" first published in The Planet, 16 December 2004

2007-05-01T10:09:00.000+01:00

There is something bittersweet about the end of one year and the beginning of a new one. Instinctively we are sad and somewhat emotional that the end is coming. It often signifies the end of one era, in which you may have had great memories and fabulous relationships. But I have often found more times than not, the end of the year is cause for celebration. You are able to cleanse yourself of all the mistakes you made in the past year and optimistically plan for all the ways you are going to do things right in the coming year.
This, I have found, is true for relationships as well. Anytime one-relationship ends we are able to take all the mistakes we made, all the disappointment we endured and all the words we shouldn’t have said, propel them forward and call it experience. However, more often that not instead of calling it experience, I often just add it to a flooding river of cynicism in me that seems to grow longer every year.
Unfortunately though cynical people are only so fun for so long. No one ever really wants to hear about how bad everything is and how it will always stay the same forever, regardless if that is the truth. Whether it is starving children in developing nations or simply the fact that men and women will never really change, people want to hear that everything in the end will work out perfectly. All the children will be fed one day and men and women really will change.
But in the growing world of information and impersonalized communication it is hard to accept these ideas and still keep yourself from hating the world around you simply because it seems to grow worse and never better. And while we can unfortunately accept daily that there will always be starving children in the world, we somehow can’t accept anything but a perfect relationship.
So if we can optimistically accept a list of New Year’s resolutions each year do we need to start making our own relationship resolutions? And how do you ever go about making this list when being in a relationship is such a different experience than losing that last ten pounds or re-organizing a closet? And can we make resolutions to the relationships we are already in?
For single people the list is almost like a trick question. Can you break the older, bad habits without creating newer worse ones at the same time? However, universally I think we can all agree on resolution number 1: no more dating men (or women depending on your sexuality) who are a) freaks, b) emotionally unavailable, c) make bad excuses as to why they don’t call, d) have hidden agendas, e) have a girlfriend/boyfriend or f) all of the above. If you have found yourself leaning towards these types in the past, which I think anyone can admit to having done at least once, then this is your year to break the bad habit!
Resolution number 2, don’t settle for anything less than you deserve. This means no dating someone who already has a significant other in hopes that they will leave theirs for you. No dating someone who treats you badly and seemingly calls you only when they want to have sex. And no dating people who are two faced; they love you behind closed doors but treat you badly in public. Unless of course you are in fact that person, to which all the warning signs say to avoid. If true, please sign yourself up for counseling ASAP and leave all of us nice, caring, loving people alone!
Resolution number 3, don’t be in a relationship just to be in a relationship. If you are with someone because you think it is better than being alone, then you have so much to learn still. There is no point in wasting your time and another person’s heart because you are too scared to be out there as a single and independent person. Yes, putting yourself out there can be scary, terrifying actually but how will you ever know who you are if you don’t give yourself time to discover it on your own.
And resolution number 4, being single is fabulous, so enjoy it! When else are you going to get to spontaneously spend time with whomever whenever you want? It is nice to know that your schedule is your schedule and you don’t have to check in with anyone to confirm. You can make and break plans with whomever you would like and there is no messy emotional attachment stuff to guilt trip you into doing anything you don’t really want to do.
That being said, single people have it easy in the relationship resolution department. We make resolutions everyday without really knowing it, by choosing to be single still (and yes, it is a choice!). However, I think it is those people who are in relationships that have it the hardest when it comes to making resolutions. Relationship does not mean static it means growing, loving, changing and different levels of intimacy. But these will never fully be achieved if you don’t give yourself some direction. As some of my closest friends will tell me, the beginning of a relationship never stays the beginning forever. Once you are in the middle you are no longer testing the water together but you are truly swimming. It’s up to you whether you want to pull each other under or swim together.
Resolution number 6, don’t cut yourself off from the other person. When the going gets tough, what do you chose to do? Some people break-up, some people cheat and others pretend there is no problem. These are all solutions but probably won’t make you or your partner feel any better. One very smart friend of mine said to me the other day, “you can never change the other person, all you can do is decide to change your perspective and come in prepared with an exit strategy for whatever life or love throws at you. If you go in ready to give up, you will always lose, but if you come in, with a fresh and positive point of view, with a plan, then you are more likely to succeed.”
In the spirit of fresh ideas, make resolution number 7 your vow to be spontaneous in your relationship. We all get bored, that is a given fact. As much as you might like the latest song on the radio, you can only listen to it so many times before you get sick of it. Take this as an opportunity to go where you have never been before in your relationship. Don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable but put yourself out there a bit. That is what your partner is there for; let them catch you when you begin to fall- you know you will be there for them.
I think resolution number 8 falls along the lines of a what not to do resolution- don’t buy or make anything because you think it will save your relationship. It will only give you something else to fight about. A friend of mine had been seeing someone for two years, they lived together and thought they would get married. However, near the end things started to get really bad because they had simply grown apart and their lives were moving in different directions. Instead of acknowledging this fact and breaking up, they bought a little puppy instead, expecting it to save their relationship. In the end all it did was make them hate one another even more because only one of them got to keep the puppy when they finally did break-up. Marriage proposals, babies, moving across the world are all great and wonderful steps in life, but never, ever do it because you think that it was the missing element to an already sinking relationship. The more complicated it gets, the harder it will be to abandon ship.
The last resolution is one I think we can all agree to, single or coupled. Resolve to be happy with yourself, for yourself before you try to make anyone else feel that same way. If you feel miserable about where your life is going, who you are and what you are there is a slim chance that your outlook is going to be attractive and help propel some forward in their life. Whether you quit smoking this year, lose the weight you have been dying to lose, run a marathon or find that perfect person to date make your resolution to be happy for you and only you because at the end of the year that is the only person you truly have to face.

Bars, Beers, Baseball, and Balls "Relationship Guru" first published in The Planet, 25 November 2004

2007-05-01T10:01:00.000+01:00

I recently allowed myself to step up to bat again, in the game I like to call meeting men at bars. As a former, let’s say addict, of this practice, I had recently become a bit turned off by the whole scene. I guess you could say the whole meeting men at bars had become a little dull. It was turning into the same conversation about where I was from, pretending to be interested in where they were from, which predictably turned into a few hours of bullshit conversation that you never really remembered the next day. So, in some ways I had been on strike, trying to find a better way to meet men. But influenced by the fact that I couldn’t a) keep pretending that I didn’t need a night of male attention and b) my favorite baseball team was in the World Series, I gave myself the go-ahead to at least see what was out there once more.
Just like the familiar practice of the seventh grade cafeteria scene, I showed up at the bar with a few girlfriends and sat down at a table. Like clockwork, a group of guys showed up and sat down next to us. Slowly we infiltrated each other’s camps and there is nothing like the conversation of baseball to make everyone friendly (or create some distinct lines!). As baseball talk turned into who was going to buy the next round of drinks, the coupling was already beginning.
What makes me laugh about the whole coupling situation is that it seems to be by chance who your designated hitter will be for the night. For example, after my girlfriends and I had unofficially marked our territory for the night, the guys who sat down next to us positioned themselves as a mirror image of us. My girlfriend happened to be sitting at the end of our table, which ran right into their table. As the night went on, I watched how the guy who sat next to her in the very beginning slowly made his way closer and closer to her so that eventually he was sitting at our table. The result: couple one had been formed.
I was sitting across from my friend at the table, and close to another guy in the group. We bonded over the annoyance of one very obnoxious girl (who seemed to feel the need to scream everything she said) and our mutual hate for the Yankees. As I talked to him, I found myself falling into that familiar routine of moving from talking causally, to flirting, to really considering if I was going to go home alone that night. Fueled by too much beer and a pack of cigarettes, the decision appeared obvious. He was cute; he wasn’t feeding me any lines, and he was exactly what I needed to feel a sense of validation.
As dawn approached and the game played through its last three outs, I was working on my own last three outs as well. The keys were exchanged with the girlfriend who would be going home to my apartment, regardless if I would be there, the sexual tension was mounting and I was just drunk enough to let some of the morals fly out the window. I think I had been feeling so rejected previously that I felt that this was a good moment to erase some of those stale feelings about myself and men in general. I thought to myself, here he was! A guy who liked me, spent the whole night talking to me, and now he might just take me home too.
And that’s when I realized these were the very feelings I had been avoiding by not going to these bars altogether. I was settling for the guy I met in a bar I barely knew, the same guy whom I had been avoiding for months and in that moment some how I had convinced myself that sleeping with him would prove that I had worth. However, as I thought about it more I realized that all it would really prove was that I needed a guy to make myself feel better.
Was this true? Did I need a nameless guy who bought me a couple of drinks to tell me I was someone special? If he was nameless to me, I am sure I was nameless to him. I knew right then and there I had struck out no matter what. I would be categorized as the hitter with great potential who swung at bad pitches and watched perfect pitches sail across the plate. It was no longer a game of strategies but a game of fooling yourself into thinking that you had all the control. Instead I was the rookie at the plate intimidated by the experienced pitcher.
And so, with the sun rising into the Parisian skies, I choose to take ball four, get into a cab and go home. Alone. This time, I wasn’t disappointed in my appearance at the plate. Although it hadn’t been my first time up to bat, I allowed myself to take my experiences and walk to first base and force the other team to change their pitcher. Next time, maybe I would be more familiar with the pitcher, work the count and get a hit. But this night was not that night.
Perhaps the people we find in life are based on fate and circumstance. However, I believe fate is what we make with the circumstances that we are given. There is no point in waiting around for that perfect pitch because you may never be satisfied, but you shouldn’t swing at every pitch because you will more often be disappointed that it didn’t go out of the park.

(Please Don't) Call Me: "Relationship Guru" debut first published in The Planet, 10 November 2004

2007-05-01T09:53:00.000+01:00

Okay, admit it. There is one type of guy in life that all women are attracted to at one point or another. He is the quiet musician type in the corner of the room who everyone wants to talk to. He is that devastatingly handsome guy who is surprisingly nice and appears not to realize how good-looking he actually is. He is also that artistic guy who has dark conversations on life and can get away with it. Or he is the guy who seems to have it altogether; he graduated from some great university, is intelligent, funny and has that great smile.
What do all these guys have in common? Well, for one they some how manage to suck you in with their aloofness and at the same time they make you feel as if you are the only woman in the room. They flirt with you and tease you, but know just how far to go. They really listen to your half of the conversation and even remember something you had said days later and they never seem to be busy when you call. So you begin to think, “God there is really something there with this guy. I mean he always seems happy to see me and we get along so well.” You may have gone as far to sleep with him, thinking that something was sure to come out of it. And just when you are getting really comfortable and confident in yourself he suddenly pulls the rug out from underneath you. He stops calling and then when you see him again or call him to find out exactly what is going on he tells you the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard.
I like to call this type the “unavailable” guy.
My favorite excuse for “forgetting “ to call was when this one guy, let’s call him John, didn’t return a phone call after a few weeks. I had been seeing John for months, and when he dropped off the face of the earth I was mad, annoyed and then forced myself to feel indifferent for pride’s sake. A few days after I had convinced myself I no longer cared about him I ran into him at a bar. I was sitting with a friend having a drink when he came over, slid onto the stool next to me and sat down as if nothing had happened. Finally after a few minutes of bull shitting with him I finally asked in my best “I am indifferent” tone of voice, so whatever happened to you? Why didn’t you ever call me back?
He turned to me and said, with a straight face, “well, you see I just got this new phone,” he waves the phone in front of my face, “and while I was transferring your number into my new phone, my old phone suddenly slipped out of my hand and fell into the Mediterranean Sea.”
Well, for background information, this guy did happen to work on a yacht in the south of France, but honestly, unless he had been leaning over the edge of the boat transferring phone numbers the story could never be plausible! What really got me was that he expected me to actually believe him. At that moment I couldn’t believe that I had actually spent time even thinking about this guy. I felt like I had the words “naïve” and “idiot” stamped across my forehead. It was unbelievable.
Then there was the time with another guy who I had been seeing for few months, who told me that, “well, even if there could be anything between us you are leaving in a month.” The truth was I was leaving, I was moving to a new country, but the fact that he had to use my own life against me made me so mad. I knew that I was leaving, I had made that decision but for him to decide our fate totally based on the inconvenience of my moving frustrated me and drove me insane! As if it had been my entire fault that he couldn’t get his own act together and put in the effort required to make a relationship out of the great chemistry we had together.
Another time I went skiing with this guy as sort of a date/get to know you outing. We had a great day skiing and when we parted exhausted and rosy-cheeked from the day on the slopes, he gave me a hug and said he would call me soon. Well soon turned into a matter of weeks and eager just to find out where this one had disappeared to I finally gave up on waiting and called him myself. Well the story I got was classic.
“So you know how we were skiing all day. Well, I had my phone in my pocket and at some point it must have fallen out on the slopes, because I realized on the ride home that it was gone. Didn’t I tell you that?” he volunteered as an after thought. Well, considering that we spent forty-five minutes in the car together riding home and he never got that panicked look of, oh my god I lost my phone, no.
Then there was the most recent escapade. I met this one guy through a friend and I thought we really hit it off. He flirted with me a lot and teased me in a playful way. After a few weeks of hanging out in a very social setting we made plans to spend time together, just the two of us. I left him that night feeling great about the time we had just spent together. We talked easily, flirted and never had any of those awkward silences. Feeling witty and confident afterwards, I sent him a message asking if he would want to meet up in the next week to go for a drink, mentioning that I really enjoyed talking with him.
Well, in the most possible non-story book ending to my night, he writes me back that while he really enjoyed talking with me as well, going for drinks now wouldn’t be a great idea. Maybe we could do it sometime in the future but the timing was bad at the moment. I found myself wondering, were going for drinks that committal? I always believed that asking someone to go for drinks or coffee was the least committal possible. Apparently my perception of meeting someone casually like that was much different than this guy’s.
Again, what is going on here? How can these guys appear to have the most potential and then deflate faster than a punctured balloon?
It is as if they think women won’t be able to handle the truth and that we need to be fed the most outrageous stories to feel better about ourselves. As if their opinion of the situation and what they think of us, is the most important thing in the world. Did they ever think that a simple no would ever be in order?
The problem with these unavailable guys is that because they are so unavailable to even themselves they don’t know how to approach any situation truthfully and like a man. They appear threatened by strong women who demand answers, because honestly we have a life to live. What they don’t understand is that while we would love for them to join along for the ride, we are also not going to be sitting by the phone waiting for their most recent and lame excuse to why they are scared to take a risk.
So why are we, these great, smart, attractive women, chasing after such idiots? That is simple. We have this urge to conquer the unconquerable, sink the unsinkable, and speak the unspeakable. This desire is not so much in the change the bad boy to a good one sense but more in the sense that if these unavailable guys spent more than five minutes with us, they would see that living without us is almost impossible. We don’t want to suffocate anyone, nor give up all our aspirations (because honestly no one can get in our way). However, we have so much energy and so much ambition that we want to share it with someone. But we are not about to just share it with anyone; it takes someone special, someone a little bit different and someone a little bit unavailable. That way we feel like we accomplished something.

WOW! A Place for me to share my opinons? I should have done this sooner!

2007-05-01T09:45:00.000+01:00

Well, violà! I finally got around to putting this blog together so I can reprint and I guess self-publish some of my old columns (really just to be able to go back and tough--either from embarrassments at how silly I once was or how of pure fear at how little has changed!) and post some of my creative pieces. Really, it is just a nice excuse for me to be able to post all my opinions about the world and maybe have someone read them! It will be a nice outlet though from my everyday writing. And who knows who or what will appear on these pages. Enjoy!