Dating Advice from the Non-Dater (this Female Canuck): His friends are more important than you (seriously, they are)

As those of you who live here know, I am a relative non-dater. I've always been able to do without, and unlike some RoboDaters I know, I've never been one for a relationship either. When the few have happened in the past, they've developed organically and they've been good - the very small number of men I have dated remain good men and I wouldn't trade the experience of getting to know them for anything in this world.

It's never been about quantity, but rather quality, and it most definitely has never been about a need to fill space and time in my life. That I am giving you my loser advice is just so that you may have a little food for thought this evening.

Recently, a girlfriend of mine started dating a new man. He is, for all intents and purposes, a good man. An honest man; a 'stand-up' kind of guy who doesn't play games or open doors that he never plans to address ever again. He is the kind of boy you hope your best friend will become acquainted with...

But - and I write 'but' with hesitation - he has, according to her, one very serious flaw and it is that: He spends much too much time with his friends and he has made a point of making clear that his friends are more important to him than she is at the moment. He's also made clear that should things change in the shape of their relationship, then that too will change. (I wrote 'according to her' because they have only been dating a couple of months and this short period does not, should not, can not, and will never trump the years of friendship that any individual has built, nurtured, nourished and maintained. Male or female, there are priorities; friends are among those priorities.)

Look. This guy isn't spending 6 nights a week with his boys in bars (and if he were, then just fkn walk already and stop complaining; that you choose to remain in said situation is your problem and not his and only the best of humanity behaves in non-typical fashion. The sad reality is that most both men and women will try to take a mile where you offer an inch; taking advantage of one another is a brutal reality that we each face every day...the only thing you can do is ensure that you do your best to avoid doing that to someone when opportunity presents itself (and it always will)). What he is, is he is spending an ample amount of time with his new girlfriend and he is also spending an ample amount of time with his friends. Because - unless the scenario shifts into one of true love and commitment - the new boyfriend / girlfriend exist on the outside of the circle. His friends are the circle closest to him (and if he is a decent man, then so too is his family) and you exist beyond that. That changes if and when he chooses to change it, or it may simply change on its own (read: organically).

If you have a problem with that reality, then you need to find a different man.
Personally, I think it's pretty sexy when a man is fiercely loyal to his friends because that means that should there one day be a shift in your relationship, then he will be as fiercely loyal to you as he currently is to his friends. This is not to say that should there be a crisis in your life, he tells you he can't see you or talk to you or be there for you because he's playing football with his friends that night. Naturally, there are limits (and if you're dating a boy who would do that, then again: the problem is yours and you need to cut your losses).

Almost as importantly as the above, you should remember that his friends - just as your friends have and continue to do so - have contributed to the man that he has become. They have contributed to the man you may one day fall in love with, and you need to respect that. You need to respect them and their presence in his life. (Another caveat is that: if they turn out to be shits who don't in turn respect you or your presence in his life, then that's a whole other scenario you must eventually address. But a strong man, a good man who is in love with you - if that turns out to be the case - would never stand for anyone disrespecting you, just as you should never stand for anyone disrespecting the man you love. Loving one another must amount to seeing and treating one another as giants (and letting the imperfections of one another be a part of that 'giant'esse, since no one is perfect).

Now. If you operate on the reality that as soon as he walks into your world, you immediately do away with your friends and wait wait wait wait for him to call you so that you may get out there and do something, then you're not a very nice friend to your own circle and if I were a man, I'd watch for that behaviour and wonder how and why, if you can't be loyal to your own circle, I would ever expect you to be so loyal to me. Unfair as it may be, it's a gut reaction that can't be denied.

Ultimately, you are not a priority until you are. And when you are, then you need to still respect the importance of his friends and shouldn't be a jealous super freak of them; imagine what you would call your best friend's new partner if he didn't want you coming over...or taking a weekend away with your best friend...or heading out for a night. Imagine what you would call him? I know what I would call him...and it's not a very pleasant thing. Don't be that person and get a hobby instead.

The euphoria of a new relationship can not equal the denial of existing ones, no matter how exciting and loving and intriguing your new relationship may be. Because should this new relationship fall apart, it is your closest circle of friends who will gather you from the dirty floor and tuck you in every night until you heal & heel. Remember that, always.

**********
Note 1: The above is not to say that a year into the relationship, if there's been no change or shift in the dynamic between you and him and his friends, you shouldn't walk - the decision is yours and you lay out the groundwork accordingly in terms of what you're willing to "tolerate". Just consider the above a perspective that's all too often lost when you are watching romantic movies and reading romance novels. Keep it in mind when you're getting to know a new man and are existing within that awkward state of 'dating' when you have no idea wtf is going on. Should and when you have enough, then cut your losses and walk away without hesitation and without once looking back and remember that that is the very definition of grace.

Note 2: None of the above stands for a hurtful man who uses his friends to hurt you...who goes out of his way to point out that you're not as important as his friends in a passive aggressive way. That's just an asshole, plain and simple. All forms of passive aggression are shit and shouldn't be allowed into your life (unless you're an asshole, too). The above only stands for the good men you meet > you know who they are, and those of them reading this will also know who they are...

On: Not speaking in either the past unreal conditional or the future unreal conditional (as present tense is best)

The following is a conversation I had with a friend on The Face; I have deleted her name for reasons of privacy. So as to facilitate your reading of this, please note that I am the one who begins this conversation.

Rather than writing about my feelings on the subject matter of how we are expected and scripted to react to certain situations, I thought that I would, for this once, allow you to understand my perspective through my idiotic blather quick witted communication skills familiar only to my closest friends.

Or, you could save yourself the trouble and merely deduce from the subject title of this entry.
Either way, enjoy...

“A Guidebook for the Mindless Insecure Female: How to entrap an insecure man and marry him!”

I was recently going through a friend’s bookshelf and among a deeply disturbing volume of this genre’s nonsense, I stumbled upon: Why Men Marry Bitches: A woman’s guide to winning her man’s heart.

I paused.
Took a very deep breath.
…& proceeded…

[Aside: A few years ago, a girlfriend moved out of the country and I inherited a stack of books, among which were a few of this sort. Mostly, they were tips for dating that were relatively hilarious. Unlike my girlfriend (who I adore), I’ve never been a big dater because I tend to find it annoying and boring, ergo, the books amounted to fodder for fun. (Another aside: This is not to say I don’t date, but rather, it is to say that I only date when my interest is very peeked and that doesn’t happen very often because I would rather spend time alone than on a date with a dummy.)]

Plot
During the short time it took me to rip through this book, I found myself physically reacting to it by turning the pages with such force that I may have ripped a few pages. Perhaps.

Forget about the offensive title; as in this day and age, that a woman would refer to other women as ‘bitches’ and consider it a compliment boggles the mind. (This a personal belief that stems from my perspective on empowering oneself through the embracing and owning of words that were once used to attack said individual such as the use of the ‘n’ word. I am deeply offended when I hear it, no matter who may be using it. Clearly, I do not engage in standpoint epistemology.)

Moving past the title, I’ll touch on the two caricatured genders within the book:
A: Men are one-dimensional insecure creatures who will never be honest with a female and who only react to mistreatment and game-playing.

The proof is in the pudding(!), as follows:
1) Men are manipulative even though they don’t really know what they want. Case in point: Men like a good cook in the kitchen. You can feign being a good cook by buying a lot of pots and pans and always leaving them out. He’ll marry you and he’ll never notice that you can’t cook. Instead he’ll start cooking!

2) Men are simple and only need the following: sexual escapades in the bedroom (and please do not tell him the truth about your past. And if the ‘truth’ is in fact…true…then he won’t believe you anyway. A 34 year old virgin? WHO ARE YOU KIDDING?)

3) Men are disrespectful and must be ‘put in line’ by your glorious ‘bitchiness’. When this happens, you will then be able to change the true nature of the man , turning him into a pussy because that's what he secretly wants.

4) Men are not honest and are mean-spirited so you must always be on the alert for such behaviour and you must always be able to ‘give as good as you get’. This is called ‘information gathering’ and it is called ‘being sassy’. Never mind that you’re reading this book, ergo are mindless, ergo wouldn’t understand sass if it bent you over the couch backwards and had its way with you. Please don’t be direct and ask him if something’s up – instead, play games because you are a pathetic creature and your number one hobby is How Can I Manipulate A Man Into Marrying Me?. Better still, go to Hawaii for a weekend of fun in the sun with your girlfriends and feed off of one anothers’ pathetic-ness.

5) Always take a man at his word. I love that you're too dumb to notice that this is one of the many blatant and opposing viewpoints within this book.

6) Men are weak and on this weakness one must play in order to hook and sink said ‘man’; this is the true nature of 'love and marriage'.

7) Men only want a ‘fun’ girl so never show him your ability to bring down the hammer when necessary; don’t ever have a difficult moment, just be ‘fun’. Furthermore, you must refrain from behaving "emotionally", since that is your weakness, Female. Finally, please remember that it is in Male nature to be difficult and when that happens, accept it and roll with it while you place a beer in the fridge for him. Give him time to cool off; he will respect your level headed response because he doesn't expect that from a female. (Sub-section to point 7: Always keep him guessing!)

B: Women are one-dimensional insecure creatures who are not allowed to be engaging, passionate, honest and real. Instead, they must only be reactionary and strategic in their approach to ‘the man they love’ (because when you’re in love with a man, your natural female instinct is to be a c*nt; don’t fight it because it’s inbred since Eve).

Generally, a female must:
Play games.
Manipulate.
Lie.
React.
Entrap.
View men as both the enemy, as well as prey.
Believe that Dolly Parton, she of the unnatural body and face, is a role model to which one must aspire.

Specifically, a female must:
Never tell a man she misses him (or risk being a downer and needy).

Stroke the man’s ego by saying things such as ‘I feel safe with you’ – don’t worry about the truth or merit of that statement. He’s stupid enough to never see through your games. You are brilliant; pat yourself on the back.

Never tell a man you like him. Make sure he says it first, and then that way you will be the one who has control and power over him, rather than the other way around (because there’s no room for equality between a male and female, most especially not in a relationship. Remember: You’re at war, so keep your eye on the ball: INSEMINATION!).

Always remember that every action he takes is about you, and you must react accordingly. While you're at it, please ask him to reiterate his fondness of you by constantly providing you with reassurance that you're The One...just like in The Matrix.

Important! NEVER ASK A DIRECT QUESTION. (Or maybe I've already mentioned that?)

Critically, a female must:
Never tell a man she likes him, finds him interesting or is looking forward to learning more about him.
Just don’t do anything that would be engaging. Instead, let him do the work because that is the only way he will appreciate you.

Because he, in the same fashion as you, is a mindless insecure freak of nature.
Because he, just as you, is a fkn incompetent socially inept individual.
Because he, just as you, likely spends all of his time fixating on everyone else’s actions and trying to then react to said actions…
Because. Because. Because it is easier to follow and to react than it is to possess confidence…know what you want…and make a point of going for it.

After all, who needs self respect and honesty when one can play games?

Glaring Aporia Within The Plot
The premise of this book is to ‘make yourself gone’ and know that ‘you don’t need to be married to be okay’; to have a full life is when you will ‘make him chase you…until you catch him’.

Naturally, this begs the question: If you have a full life and don’t need marriage to feel complete, then why in holy hell are you buying a book that is all about entrapping a man in your efforts to be married? Because last I checked, you don’t eat a cupcake to reduce the size of your ass, and you don’t go to the gym, to thicken that same ass. And you most definitely do not purchase a book about entrapping men if you’re not interested in said fkn entrapment…unless, of course, you are in fact a degenerate retard and 2 + 2 = 17 in your world.

Curtain Called
Set aside the above blather and the glassy-eyed nature of the caricatured genders about which this book was written.

Clean your palette and pay very close attention to the following, please...

The only ‘rules’ you need (and this only pertains to the truly confident among you – male and female) are: A quality individual who is worth paying attention to and one worth engaging with will never be entrapped. More importantly, they will see right through the game playing (and if they didn’t, would you want to be with someone so stupid, anyway?).

A quality individual will never think you’ve called too many times or said too much or been too honest. A quality individual will be honest and will expect honesty, and if they can’t handle either, then you will find someone who can take you for all of you. (This should not, by any stretch of the imagination, be misunderstood as a green light for either the male or female to be psychotic; You can love and be loved and respect one anothers' borders. In fact, this may be the only way to love.)

Specifically, to women, let me say that in your efforts to be ‘strong’, you do not need to be an asshole and you most definitely do not need to be disengaged from the man who has peeked your interest because trust me when I tell you that it takes a strong woman to be weak in the right man’s arms. And if anyone tells you that wanting someone is a form of weakness, then you’re speaking with a needy individual and neediness is a far cry from wanting.

Though you’re a smart bunch, let me clarify: Wanting someone amounts to a realization that they are, indeed, someone who brings added value to your life. Wanting someone is extending a warm set of arms to a person because you wish to do so. Needing someone is because you feel incomplete alone; unfortunately, if you feel incomplete alone, no one will ever be able to fill that gap, marriage or otherwise. (Essentially: Loners are sexy for this very distinction, as they fall into the former category.)

Finally, I will say that being strong is not being a bitch. What it is is a clear awareness of the person that you are and what you bring to the table. No one can touch or shake that if it's solid within your own mind. Period.

Unlike the bile spewed by such books, the reality is that both men and woman are emotional creatures. The reality is that both men and women have their own brand of crazy; the nuanced approach is to learn about the crazy, embrace the crazy, don’t try to change the fkn crazy, and let the crazy run its course when it needs to. (If either the male or the female can’t handle the crazy, then you’ll find someone worth your salt who will love you and all of your crazy, and vice versa if you need someone with less crazy. Don’t try to change who you are to meet the fake breasted caricature of relationships created by offensive books such as these…please…)

All of the above to say: Please stop perceiving the opposite (or same, or either) sex as the enemy. The sisters will thank you, as will the boy bands.

Men and *That* Woman

So I've received some interesting emails from both men and women since posting the blurb that: "(Did you know that men are the ones who fall in love at first sight? It's not actually women, but rather men who will tell you that from the very first moment they saw her, spoke to her, watched her walk up a set of steps, handed her a coffee over the counter, etc ad infinitum, they know that she's the one they want to marry. It's men, not women, who are the eternal romantics (this, not to be confused with a woman's inclination to romance in the form of flowers and candles.))" (This info I picked up at least a year ago in a men's magazine but can't remember which. Apologies.)

People want an explanation and so I am going to pretend I know what I'm talking about. Bare with me as I write in generalizations and from my own experience and observation, please.

(1) A man who needs to be convinced that the woman he's with is the woman he should stay with is a man who will either: (a) Eventually leave that woman; or, (b) Marry that woman and never feel completely fulfilled.

(2) I have yet to hear a man declare: "I'm ready for commitment" while being single. (Lest they are relatively religious and are actively seeking the covenant of marriage.) Whereas almost every single woman I know has said at one point or another: "I am ready for a family / commitment / marriage / children".

I do believe - and this is my opinion - that a man is only ever ready for commitment the moment he meets the woman he wants to commit to. And so when that woman comes into his life, she does - usually unknowingly - change things about his life (& ain't no man changin' if he don't want to - otherwise, he's not much of a man...at least not in my books). She becomes the catalyst for everything else and so it would seem relatively normal and logical that that individual is romanticised.

A lot of women are rooted in romanticizing the situation, rather than the individual. Marriage, commitment, children, family. They sound good to most, and so it is the situation that drives the desire in this case. We tend to romanticise the situation whereas men tend to romanticise the individual. Perhaps this is why a woman's inclination is toward the visual romantic (such as candles) whereas the man's focus is on the woman (read: sex) and his connection to her. (Please understand I'm not here discussing a random booty call, but rather the very real connection yearned for when two people come together; in men it's the driver. And yes it is also a driver for women, perhaps even a stronger driver for women; we just deal with it differently. Again, it doesn't matter if we're built that way or if we're conditioned to believe we are that way. The point is, it is a reality, so perhaps to clarify, I will say that sex is a part of the human condition. It is a part of all drivers. There. Happy?)

I'm sure that someone out there can tie the above to the way men are raised / born. Aggression and risk taking are drivers for them; when they see something they want, they go after it and think about the consequences later. Same could be said when they set their sites on a woman they want for life, from the moment they see her.

Q: Why would an Alpha ever let the 'perfect' woman get away?
A: He's a Beta.

Or...all of the above could be pure bullshit. You decide.

Shawn & Kelly (Part 1, 2 & 3 of 4)

You all know Shawn, who I have mentioned on numerous occasions as 'S'.

Shawn and I have a rare sort of friendship. I don't believe that beyond a certain age, men and women can be friends. I do believe - that for the most part - in order for us to be close friends, there needs to be a certain level of attraction that exists, and so friendship in its purest form as it exists between two straight women (for example) can never be attained between a man and a woman. Or so is my experience because men always fall in love with me due to my never ending charming.

Shawn is unique.
Shawn and I fell for one another's friendship immediately and without hesitation and our friendship was based on the trading of secrets (our own, not those of others).

He has offered support when I least expected it and talked me through the most obscure, surreal and craziest moments. He has also always offered an honest and sincere interest in and support of my life. Even though it should go without saying, I will write it anyway: the last two sentences are dittoed on my end.

Understand that Shawn has a special place in my life...and on Saturday he was married.

Part 1: The Wedding
Shawn met a beautiful and sparkly girl named Kelly.
Shawn and Kelly fell in love.
Shawn and Kelly got married...because that's what folks do when they want to adventure together for an extended period of time. Or so is the case, in my world, shared by the likes of Shawn and Kelly.

My heart nearly exploded through my chest when I walked up to the church and saw him standing in his tuxedo, I was so happy - a word that falls so short of what I actually experienced.

(My heart also nearly exploded because I was wearing a shade of sl*t red entering into a church while others were in subdued hues of brown, black, blue and grey. Hurrah for D who showed up in the same - entirely unplanned - shade of red a wee bit later.)

Not surprisingly for a girl who cries when she sees any act of kindness, I cry at weddings.
On Saturday, I cried a lot, and for two reasons.

The first was because it was in a Church.
I am a Muslimah and so I heart Jesus (as well as Moses and the rest). Consequently, it fills me with unbelievable amounts of warm and fuzzy when I see people standing / sitting before a priest, sheikh or a rabbi and entering into this very 'covenant' before God.

There was an incredible moment when the priest mentioned the etymology of the word 'sacrifice' and how it is sacrifice and forgiveness that make a relationship work. Sacrifice is rooted in the Latin concept to come together, and so when entering into a union of this sort, sacrifice (a word that too many frown upon) is the key to unifying as one, rather than existing as two solitudes and feigning unity. (Remember that. Also remember that our worth is measured not by our ability to remain a single unyielding entity, but rather how we enrich, improve, challenge to make better the lives of everyone in our path. You did not become so great had it not been for the sacrifices made on your behalf; so always work to return the favour to the universe (so long as you're not going against your moral code, obviously).)

But I digress.
I still remember Shawn sitting across from me in the fall of 2006 and telling me about Kelly, who he'd already fallen in love with. (Did you know that men are the ones who fall in love at first sight? It's not actually women, but rather men who will tell you that from the very first moment they saw her, spoke to her, watched her walk up a set of steps, handed her a coffee over the counter, etc ad infinitum, they know that she's the one they want to marry. It's men, not women, who are the eternal romantics (this, not to be confused with a woman's inclination to romance in the form of flowers and candles.))

Needless to say, Kelly's an easy girl to fall in love with because she's of the rare few who seem to have an endless amount of love to give, leaving others to wonder how such a tiny chest cavity can hold a heart so big.

Shawn didn't merely fall in love with her, but rather he fell into a state of adoring her. Seeing this so clearly and in such palpable manner was the second reason I cried more so than usual.

I heard it in Shawn's voice two years ago and I saw it all over his face on Saturday. What a pleasure it was to be witness to what may very well be the key to 'ever' after.

Part 2: The Party
Too much to tell you, and I've already told you the most important part.

Let me say that I danced with three wonderful folks, one of whom I will discuss in the following section. First, though, and perhaps most importantly, is that Shawn's mom and dad taught me how to jive dance.

They had the patience to teach me how to jive dance!! I couldn't believe my luck - I was so excited and kept tripping at first, throwing my hand up at all the wrong moments, but still keeping the beat and so they kept at it with me.

I can now - sort of - jive dance. I need a little practice, but I appreciate that they took the time to graciously waste on me.

(A little note on Shawn's family, just so you understand the sort of creativity that exists in their world: Shawn is adopted and in order for the mama and the papa to teach Shawn about that, his mum created a story book about their lives and how they found Shawn. Mama and papa were bears, and Shawn was a penguin brought into their family. I will forever think of Shawn's mom as The Penguin Lady whose sense of imagination I love.)

Part 3: Salt
I've mentioned previously that Shawn is a writer with several Hollywood scripts already under his belt.

A while back, Shawn started telling me about "Max and his amazing family", with whom Shawn was working on a new project. Whenever Shawn mentioned Max, he lit up with energy and admiration and an overall sense of awe. When discussing Max's family, I could almost touch how much Shawn's come to love them, most definitely how grateful he is for their presence in his life.

Max is 27 years old with cystic fibrosis. His beautiful beautiful sister also has CF.

I must admit that before I met Max, I'd not known anyone with CF. I will also admit that I had a deep misunderstanding about what CF does and how it affects those who have it. Max pretty much shattered every misconception I had of this disease and I spent the better part of yesterday grilling my med school cousin about CF.

Please learn more about Cystic Fibrosis and consider supporting a foundation in your local area. Also, please read about and get to know the labour of love that is Salt, borne between Shawn and Max McGuire. (I will provide more info on Salt as it becomes available.)

For all of my blogging brothers and sisters, please consider placing a link to Salt's home. (Shukran.)

Part 4 is forthcoming; the day in pretty pictures, happy faces and a lot of red lipstick.

Three honourary mentions:
(1) Folks were trying to guess where I was from - behind my back - until Shawn told me.
(2) I fell in love with all of Shawn's uncles, the Riopelle men, one of whom provided one of the three greatest lines of the evening: "How can the Jews be fighting your kind when all they need to do is look over the fence and see that Palestinian girls look like you?! WHY ARE YOU SINGLE??"
(3) The other two "greatest lines" of the evening belong to Kevin, the best man, who started the evening's hilarities with his speech as follows: "Fornication! Oh. Uh. Sorry, I tend to speak too quickly when I'm nervous. Let me try that again: For an occasion..."
& ended our night with this goodbye to me: "When I saw you coming towards the church in your red dress, I thought 'holy shit! I've forgotten everything Freud's taught me! All of that therapy down the drains. Damn!" (Because, really: What more could a girl ask for, yes?)

I once wrote: 'I believe in love, actually'

I still do; perhaps more so now than ever before.

(Please befriend a leprechaun and shed the weight of your bitterness on your way out...)

The Stand-Up Guy

His name is Daemon (Scott) Fairless, and he recently married Lyana, a beautiful and brilliant gynaecologist (as Scott says: "It's nice to have a shared interest") who I can't wait to squeeze next they're in Ottawa.

Scott was the first boy I ever loved, though I never told him that. I believe I loved Scott, but wasn't in love with him. Being the first boy I dated, it was complicated and unclear at the time.

We met while he was working as bartender at Oliver's on Carleton University's campus. He was 6'2" and quite possibly in the most prime shape of his life, considering how he describes his physique today ("fat" - I've seen recent pictures and he's anything but (not to mention that it is relatively difficult to be "fat" at his height)), with green eyes and sandy brown hair. He made me laugh to the point of peeing myself, was a reader and a boxer and so proved the most beautiful combination for me.

We were both children then and I loved him the only way a 22 year old Maha knew how: Stupidly and confusedly. We argued about religion - he was then an atheist, though now believes in God - and poetry. He read to me, we had dinner with his step-mum and father who called me "gregarious", he read to me some more, he had dinner with my mother who called him "handsome" (he is, to this day, the only man whose met mama), we argued more, he read to me some more, we had dinner with his mother and he attempted to play the guitar only to find a condom wrapper inside of the guitar throwing us into a hysterical frenzy of laughter, he cooked, we read, I cooked, we argued even more, his love of Johnny Cash rivaled my love of Madonna, we made fun of each other, I was confused by him, we danced to really bad and fast pop music, we watched ER, he wrote his number on a piece of paper I had kept for years. He was beautiful and brilliant to me and he introduced me to Vietnamese rolls for which I am eternally grateful.

Essentially, it was exactly what two 22 year olds look like in a relationship.

Among the memories I hold of Scott, there are these two following particularly vivid spots in time: First, Cathy and Dino had come to meet me at Oliver's for a drink and to meet Scott, who was working that evening. I was walking past him when he pulled me over and whispered "you are so beautiful" to which I couldn't respond because I didn't know how. I was 22 years old and I'd never heard it from anyone but my mother because, essentially, I am a muppet. (In fact. Up until that point there had only been one other boy who'd ever referenced my looks, and that was George Logaras of Brookfield High School in Ottawa nearly 7 years earlier: He'd called me 'ugly' and 'fat' (I was a size 12), and referenced my 'four eyes' (glasses, yes) and my unibrow WHICH I HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE HAD! I have never plucked between my eyebrows. The unibrow misobservation dumbfounds me to this day. He was a real dream boat, that one, aged 18 to my 15.)

Second, he was the first boy to hold my hand and when he did, I nearly threw up because it was so intense. (Remember: I am a muppet.)

Right. So, anyway, 22 year old Scott was also a self-absorbed idiot who didn't know how to communicate with my 22 year old self, loved Walt Whitman (snoooooooze), made fun of me for believing in angels (now only if I believe in the "Cherubs", which I don't), spent way too much time reading and believing Nietzsche (and then making me read Walt Whitman and Nietzsche), writing poetry and sulking in the way only a 22 year old boy can sulk. The world revolved around Scott, and if it didn't, he forced his mind to perform acrobatics so that the world became about him. In hindsight, he was a 22 year old clown...but he was my clown and I loved him for it.

Needless to say, 22 year old Scott and I ended and then he started dating a woman much too soon after me. His actions didn't set off a nuclear bomb because he neither deceived nor misled nor betrayed me; but his actions were indeed idiotic, hurtful and mean.

(I must say here that their relationship started by him cooking her dinner; she came over with a Tom Waits CD, flowers and her flute. SHE PLAYED HIM THE phallic FLUTE. Likely, she went to band camp. (I still remember unveiling the news re 'the flute' to The Girls who proceeded to gawk at me as though I'd suddenly sprouted a second head and tipped forward due to the sheer weight of the new head combined with my existing head.) When he told me about their date (we were trying to be friends) I told him I was no longer interested in being his friend and that it was too soon and too hurtful. I hung up, went into my closet to find a lantern which he'd gifted me and then promptly propelled it down the garbage chute with enough force to knock down the entire building.

For approximately two months after he and I stopped speaking, I used to imagine taking a bat to his legs and burning her flute.

From what he tells me, he stayed with her for a couple of years, and it was the "worst relationship of his life".

Ha! Ha! (That's God batting for Team Maha, kids.)

I'm being mean because I've suddenly lost interest in my 33 year old self and found my inner 22 year old instead.)

Right. So six years ago, I received an email from Scott after he "Googled and found [me]". He contacted me to apologize for all of his shit behaviour years back, as he should have. It wasn't something I had waited around for, as 22 year old Maha wasn't the same as 27 year old Maha nor was she the same as 33 year old Maha who is currently thinking that speaking about herself in the 3rd person is really strange and so Maha will stop.

I accepted because his apology was honest and clear and true, appreciating the fact that it had played on his mind for five years (look: if a boy becomes a man at 27, then that's pretty damn impressive). Since then, we've remained in contact at a relatively good level - though it's not regular contact, it is worthy contact when it happens (quality here, in fact). For the women who live here, I wish to share something with you, sent to me by Scott about men nearly a month and a half back. My mind was experiencing a logjam, and he forced me through it. (There is something to be said for those who knew our hearts intimately, no matter that with Scott it was 11 years ago. As with very very few others, he will always have an edge.) Take the following with you and keep it somewhere safe so that you may access it when you need it (this is something I've always believed and expressed without hesitation, but it's nice to have it confirmed and backed by a man):

"Fact is, guys suck most of the time. I don't mean to sound flippant but it's true. They are hard to trust. Their dicks are serious liabilities. It's that simple. Even the guys who don't want pussy want pussy. They'll go to great lengths to rationalize their actions but it really is that simple. The only guy you can kind of trust is a guy who is honest about that. I really think you can't ever fully trust what a guy says. At least until he's got one hell of a proven track record.

Also, guys tend to be kind of autistic and so they don't really understand how their actions affect others, at least not in the same way women do. (Again, I'm not being flippant. There's a male-autism-lack of empathy thing that's pretty well studied).

In my mind, there's a divide: males who know this is true of themselves can be called men. Males who aren't yet aware of this are called boys, regardless of age. A gentleman takes care not to harm others whether by taking precautions not to act on his biological imperative or not lying to himself or others about his inability to keep it in check."

Pretty brilliant.

Love that he's willing to step beyond the Male Code of Keeping Their Shit Secret and stand next to a girl who was once in his life to clarify a few points.

Love that it comes from the same man who "once made [his wife] lunch and included a can of beer so that when she opened it in front of her colleagues, they'd think she was an alcoholic".

Love that it proves that even at 22, I knew how to pick a good man...even if it took him six years to become that man.

Every girl should have one (and Scott is mine): The Stand-Up Guy to whom The Girls and you throw back as you discuss the m(e)n in your lives.

Really. I love it.

Every Girl Should Have One

Arabic

Your movement, as your language;
Hushed like curtains
back-drawn and passed through

Whispered into antechambers
that you've dressed before the dawn
with offerings and incense

or the tap of bare feet
on marble intricate as if
through girded iron interlaced
smoke were woven

and the swish of silk
about your heels

and something carried
high and in your hands.

***************
...every girl should have one: a poem inspired by her.

Men are from Mars and Some Women are from Stupid

In 32 years, I've only ever cared for one person. Well...maybe one and a half, the half not really counting because in hindsight it's easy to see that it was little more than a very fun and exciting fantasy holding no water.

A few girls invited me out after work one evening and they were blathering on about their "tricks" with men because apparently, "a woman has to play games to get what she wants". I am about to divulge some sisterhood secrets and I don't mind doing this because thankfully, it is not to this particular sisterhood I belong. Most of the women were in their late thirties and single, having jumped from one bed to another.

True gems of wisdom imparted were:
"...cry - you'll get anything!"
"...yell! You have to yell to show him whose boss!"
"...break up with him first. YOU HAVE TO BREAK UP WITH HIM FIRST!"
"...jealousy is par for the course with a man, make sure to always keep him on his toes and guessing that you have other men on your a** always."
"...hold his ex girlfriends against him!"
"...play with his emotions by being temperamental and unpredictable."
"...never make him think he's totally got you or he'll take you for granted."
"...f*ck his best friend when you break up. It'll kill him!"
"...needle his most vulnerable psychology!"
"...be a b*tch, it's what all men secretly want."
"...never pay for anything or he'll expect you to always do it."
...and my personal favourite was when one of the women decided to lecture me on that you should really get out there and date because that's what men are for. Women's lib! We fought for this!(1) And really who cares if you wait until marriage when there's so much variety to be had and look at me I'm a tramp and I love it been with more men than I can count on all fingers toes and appendages and it doesn't matter that I now wear a diaper because I have zero muscle drone drone drone.

As to this woman, to some it would seem odd that in thirty two years I would have only said "I love you" once. To those who think I am a freak of incredible proportion I'll have you know that the more I look around me the happier I am about this particular aspect of my life. And in fact, the more respect I have for myself. I believe there's something pure and honest about it. Having dealt with T's recent PIGLET! lying and cheating husband, I realize that my reality means I don't take either the words or the sentiment lightly and that stands for something; no one can ever claim that part of me has been diluted by over usage. More important still is that with every time we give ourselves away, we loose something. We become dulled, we become more cautious, we become less giving the next time. And...I...I wish to be able to give all of myself to someone someday without hesitation, trepidation or fear because of tangible things such as a past encounter. I don't think that's far-fetched or unattainable (I don't actually believe in that word, but think it's the ideal excuse for not working harder); Absolutely challenging and filled with hard work, but fully attainable nonetheless.

I like that: I won't ever be someone who does dilute everything in their lives. Who jumps from one relationship to another, never mourning, never understanding, never learning, never growing. I don't want to be with someone for the sake of being with someone, to avoid boredom. I don't want to further disrespect the man I will marry by giving so much of me away today that there'll be nothing left to give him tomorrow. I don't want to be the fool who doesn't know how to be alone. Who doesn't value their body or their heart and hands both out at random. I refuse to belittle everything that I am just so I have the occasional date on Friday night and so that I'm not lonely because I fully believe that if we don't know how to be alone and enjoy our own company, we won't know how to let someone else share in that very company. I also refuse to fit into some bizarre prototype of 'modern female' because I don't much like 'her'.

More importantly, I like boys. I don't want to be cruel to them or play games with them or disrespect them. When I am with someone, I don't want to yell at him or make him cry or harm his heart and I want to believe that everything earthly is possible.(2) Instead of aiming to do these things I'll hope to do the exact opposite to the best of my ability. Inevitably, at times I'll fail, but I'll have at least attempted to avoid that failure. I want to love him fairly and completely. Understand his history and psychology, alleviate his fears, reinforce my love for him and forgive his weaknesses as I would expect to have done for me. I also want to like him enough to hold his hand when we're 85. I think women underestimate their capacity to hurt men and that's an absolutely terrible thing. Simply because men may not discuss their feelings, it doesn't mean they don't have them. I wouldn't want someone to play games with me or yell at me or be mean to me and so why would I ever inflict that sort of thing on another individual? Especially if it's someone I love?

And if you believe that you can be a shit to your partner and yet don't deserve to be treated in the same manner, then you need a lot of therapy and a kick in the ass. There's nothing uglier than a spoiled brat, male or female.

****************************************

(1) We fought for 'this? For the freedom to f*ck? And here I thought we were fighting for equality and respect. How shameful and backward of me to accuse the feminist movement of anything short of complete and full pornification of the female and her many fruitful usages and bendy ways. Oh! And while I'm on it...thanks very much for providing me the opportunity to CHOOSE having my brea*ts sliced to obtain a more 'womanly' figure, my lips injected for a sexier pout, my eyebrows tattooed to shave off 10 minutes of 'getting ready' time in the a.m., my ribs broken for a smaller waistline and my face expressionless and poison filled so as to appear 'younger'. Because deep down, I don't think I can get anywhere on brains alone, I'd like to thank the modern day Miss. Interpretation of 'feminism' by the greater sisterhood allowing me to indulge these very exceptional and MY CHOICE! actions. These choices make me liberated, Hurrah!

Liberated enough to look down my new perfectly shaped "Jennifer Aniston" nose in order to mock the Muslim woman and her head gear - because heaven forbid she force the world to listen to her rather than stare BY CHOICE! at her. (3)

(2) Except the wanking PIGS! and Cheaters.

(3) Yes, there is a happy middle way, but not with the likes of the women who were the catalysts for this entry.

On The Cheaters

Monday of this week, one of The Girls, T, discovered that her husband of eight years is a big fat lying cheat. We've not discussed the details, because to discuss his actions at length would be to provide him more worth and time than he deserves. He's the unfortunate one and so it is he who needs to worry about the deficiency of his own character, not T. Suffice it to say that for years, he's been actively engaged in a relationship with another woman who has feigned friendship with T. T found out by sheer accident.

In his unsophisticated and base mind, he's convinced himself that his love for this other woman will sustain him. They've built a long distance relationship which is ideal and quite fitting for two Cheaters, because it's the one sort of relationship that's built on sheer conjecture of their coming together. There’s nothing offered of real life but virtual action and time-delayed reaction. It's perfectly suited for all sorts of lies and fake character definitions, ergo perfectly suited for the two fungi engaged within.(1)

Some may eventually wonder about the state of T & The Lying Cheat's relationship in an effort to look for reasons to justify what happened...

I refuse to provide a character sketch of either the relationship or of T as this is not at all about either. About T, I will say that she too lives her life in crayon and if ever there was a woman full of life, light, love, devotion, faith, kindness and humor, it is T. If I were a man, she is the one I would pursue before any of my other friends.

T is one of my best friends and I am of the fiercely loyal variety and so feel the need to discuss this (with her full permission to do so publicly). The following is in great part a direct communication of my passing judgment and so if you are a Lying Cheater, then I offer you absolutely no apologies and I seriously recommend that you not read any further.

Individual Moral Deficiency
When things go wrong, it’s much easier to offer the excuse of reaction and blaming of our partners. So, for example, The Lying Cheater will most always say: “S / He made me. They were always gone. They mistreated me”. Few will be brave enough to say ”I fell in love with someone else. I cheated. I offer no excuse for my actions. I’m sorry” (to whom I would only say that when you are in a committed relationship then you need to respect the sacredness of that union by removing yourself from places of temptation. All of them, beginning with the real and ending at the virtual).

(Here there’s a deeper malaise. It’s the ease by which people move from one relationship to another, from one emotional connection to another, and from one bed to another. We no longer believe in the sacred, of which is the commitment we make to our partners. Instead, so many throw around the word ‘love’ as though it is void of meaning and subsequent action. Moreover, many don't possess either the capacity or the courage to be alone until a worthy partner comes along, settling instead for a time waste of a relationship that furthers one's abiity to detach...an ability I would argue serves no value when it comes time for you to deal with honest love.)

If your original partner is abusive, then you should hold sacred your choice to commit – regardless of how hurtful they may truly be – and remove yourself from your relationship before you embark on another. Naturally, there are many abusive individuals who don’t deserve any respect (but much jail-time) but when you cheat on someone, your measure should never be their behaviour, but rather your own moral code.

Ultimately, if they are abusive, I’m sorry for the situation in which you may have found yourself. Their abuse is as much a reflection on your moral character as is your cheating on theirs. See: There’s nothing there. There are no links and there are no ties that bind in terms of moral conduct. Please note that I am not equating the two actions in any realm of moral conduct; suffice it to say that we should aim to compare our actions with those who are stronger than us, rather than to those who are weaker.

Societal Moral Deficiency
The more I’ve thought about this the less surprised I am by the fact that we tend to have the above backwards; rather than understanding that an individual’s action is a reflection of them, we blame an individual’s actions on the society they’re a part of. We lie to ourselves and convince ourselves that ‘society’ exists on its own, above and beyond the actions of the individuals within (much like the legal actions of a Corporation). It is the lazy man’s unsophisticated approach at understanding our environment.

We live in an era where “anything goes” and where the measure of a person’s character is no longer of real value. Where words hold no merit and are equally void of grammatical structure as they are of action. This is not to say that we can always keep our word, but we better damn well be prepared to go to war – even with ourselves – in order to try and keep our word. Unfortunately, the reality here is there's never a guarantee that you'll win.

But I digress. Individual responsibility for action is no longer an integral part of how we view ourselves; quite possibly why so many of us have trouble saying “I’m sorry” or “I behaved irresponsibly”. Heavily bi-polar because we are at once so busy being “Individuals” and giving into our “individual” basic desires yet equally blaming others for all that befalls us. I think that perhaps the root of this is that – as a collective – we have done away with individual responsibility (“I cheated because they were (insert any one of an infinite number of excuses)”).

We no longer honour responsibility to lovers, to parents, to children, to friends, to members of our global community…responsibility to our history and our future. (If some of you are looking for “responsibility to ourselves”, then you need to widen you self-awareness and value that all of the above are the fabric from which you – the individual ‘I’ - are a composite you short and near-sighted weirdo.)

We love in a world where we’re told repeatedly in film and television that we should obey our most basic instincts, satiating all our desires. Responsibility be damned. Our guiding light is no longer honesty, responsibility and measure of consequence, but rather, the push to be uninhibited. The act of being unfaithful is (more often than not) depicted as pleasurable and racy and dangerous and fun. And why shouldn’t we have fun? Why should we ever deny our desires, right? We are, after all, just animals, and these feelings are there for a reason.

Nonsense. As much as we try to deny it and turn away from it, we owe a level of deep responsibility to each and every individual we come in contact with – and if that means that we shouldn’t give into our most basic of instincts because of that responsibility, then we simply: should not behave in a manner short of the ideal. And if you don’t know what that is, then use the old adage that you should not do to others what you would not have done to you.

I listened to T weep into the telephone. I heard her use the word ‘shattered’ to describe her state, and let me tell you, you loathsome, repugnant, vile, base, despicable excuse for a person, there is nothing racy or fun or pleasurable about the pile of rubbish you have dislodged onto the lives of others and I hope you catch something that begins with the letter 'H' and rhymes with Slurpees.

...and what of the rest of us? I guess all we can do is make certain that our moral code of conduct is not dulled, blurred or changed by the acts of others. More to the point, I think we have to do our best to instill these values in our children (Inshallah, should I one day be blessed with them).

Speaking for myself, I know that my moral character can infinitely use improving and I would humbly suggest you consider doing the same because ‘society’ is another way of describing the same string held to by each person in this entire world. Our responsibility is to make certain that where we see the string is frayed and near breaking around us, we mend it to the best of our ability.

I am now climbing off my soapbox and on to Lulu for a calming ride.

& P.S. To The Unfaithful who would say: But it just sort of happened, then to you I send the Greatest Emotional Flaccidity Award.

& P.S. to the P.S. Don’t even get me started on the f***wits who cheat on their entire family.

& Ugh, one last P.S. to those 3rd Parties, who are being cheated with; what makes you think you're special enough, that the man/woman you're with (the one whose already cheated on a partner to be with you) won't do it to you...when there's someone younger, or richer, or more charismatic, or taller, or kinder, or sexier, or plain old different than you, what they have become used to? If this thought's never crossed your mind, then I hope this last P.S. will ring in your head every single time your partner goes out and comes home even 5 minutes late. (Now that you've read that, 3rd Party, you'll never be able to shake it - and likely, it may have already made your stomach turn. As it should, because you too are a sh*t.)

********************
(1) Of course one can have a normal long distance relationship. But one must be cautious, I believe...or make an effort to fly out and see the other on a very regular basis and during which they spend 'normal' time together rather than 'holiday' time where it's all fake fun. The former will work to guarantee that should your relationship last and move to a stronger stage, you won't be shocked when your partner behaves like a normal person. The latter will spoil you and your expectations. Neither of these realities should come as a surprise and one should keep them at the forefront of their minds should they enter into a long distance relationship. Bla bla bla.

A home can not be built on the table of an architect

Two couples I know recently purchased their first homes together. A & D in old Gatineau and K & M off of Pretoria Bridge in Ottawa.

Visiting their homes has given me an itch that I will scratch in a little while. I've decided that should I be single by a specific date, I too will purchase my first home. I know the area in which I want to buy and Inshallah I will be able to have a kookh (cabin) of my own; investment never hurt anyone and I will be at the proper age to do so seriously and as a full commitment. When the time comes, y'all'll be the first to know.

First K & M.
I was too shy to take pictures of their home for whatever reason. It was built in the early 1930s (likely 1932) and is a gorgeous three bedroom with the world's greatest bedroom nook, attic and kitchen. The kitchen is enormous and entirely new, including the stainless steel appliances. They also have a beautiful mudroom in which the perfect light fixture would be a chandelier of sorts in order to lush & warm-up the entrance.

More importantly, they have a deep soaker tub in their upstairs bathroom beneath a window, the colours of the bathroom being blue and white, I couldn't help but envision the complementary nature of nautical decor.

Because they're intelligent folk, they've turned one of the upstairs bedrooms into their television room. This then leaves their sitting area on the main floor just that: a welcoming sitting area the focus of which will be the people and not the television set.

My two favourite spaces are their bedroom nook and attic, both of which I have in my head and heart assigned to K rather than M (sorry, dude). The bedroom nook is a perfectly square corner linked both to the bedroom and an enclosed sun-filled side balcony that would be perfectly met with a hammock, plants and white lace curtains. The nook itself is screaming for either a perfect vanity (for K, not M) and a Persian rug or a reading chair, an ottoman and a thin long side table on which K (not M) can place candles, pictures and reading materials beneath the window to be drowned in sunlight. Due to the size of the window, K (not...well, you get it) could place heavy velour drapes that would swoop along the floor and which could be pulled back with luxurious and maybe even sparkly rope tie-backs.

Finally there's the attic that, even though needs some work, serves as the perfect 'girl' space. There's a beautiful slant to the ceilings and one large window at the far end which brings in enough sunlight to light up the entirety of the attic. As soon as I walked up the stairs, all I could see was the area's future; soft carpeting, cream, and sage walls, a couple of single sink-in-to reading chairs and rounded glass vases filled with white flowers next to the window that will be covered in a cream coloured lace curtain and tied back with a red satin ribbon. This is where K will hide either alone with a book, a good cry or a girlfriend who needs the comfort of private conversation. They will be listening to Bach. This is the same space that will be taken over by K & M's daughter when she wants to daydream in private; it may even be the space in which she explores her creative side through the artwork she'll create and hang on it's very walls.

As the title of this entry suggests, K & M's place is already a home and not merely a house. This home is a space created not on the physical architectural foundation, but rather based on the team that is K & M. There was a moment of interaction between them which I will share with you and which I hope you have already - and if not yet, then you will some day soon - experience in your lives.

This house already has a history of families and lives lived. K & M's own family story will be added to this living memory some day; the next owners of the house will say "...and then we bought it from K & M who moved in in 2007 and it's in this house that they built their family. When they handed us the keys, they walked out holding hands and M said: 'Check out that awesome railing. Now compare it to that railing! That's my work. Do you remember when I did that?'" The house will be filled with thousands of stories, of which the following is the one I will likely remember most.

It was K who lent me the book "The Time Traveller's Wife". When she handed it to me, I noticed how immaculately kept it was. I'm looking at it right now; the spine is not cracked, there is no writing anywhere, no passages underlined, no fingerprints on the pages or even dog ears. I joked how each and every one of my books was a mess compared to K's. On the inside cover of a book, I write my name, phone number, address, and the most important points of my current autobiographical situation (e.g. "Had Vietnamese last night with Di and Pierre and ate too much hot sauce. Must temper greed re hot sauce."). Worse still is that throughout my books there are notes in the margins, passages underlined and more autobiographical data (e.g. "Just had a slight row with X, am feeling sad and this book is the only thing I can concentrate on. It's 2.12 pm and I am seated alone in the park on a bench.").

K had run upstairs to find the book. When she returned, she handed it to me and then sat back down across the coffee table from me next to M. As I was explaining the trauma I inflict on my books, I looked up and noticed that K & M were looking at one another smiling, but K with an obviously 'made for us' look of worry on her face. M laughed, nudged her and said "Hey. You should get that book back, I don't think you should even lend it to her!" and we all started laughing. But there was something in that moment that can only be understood between those who deeply love and cherish one another. I know it may seem insane to some of you, but to me it was clear: They were a team. There was a solidarity between them and even though it was in reference to the slightest object, a book, I understood immediately that an interaction such as that sheds light on to the rest of a relationship.

It is only natural that in all relationships there are moments of tension and hurt and anger. Hopefully, these moments are outweighed by love and tenderness, secrets shared and moments lived that will never be experienced beyond the couple. As with K & M, this is because: They are a team. It's a small sentence but its sense is great enough to touch anyone who sits near them.

I left that evening thinking about what defines a healthy relationship, and I now believe that a great part of that definition has to do with looking out for one another. It is placing ourselves into the shoes of our partners and understanding their psychology and their history, their wounds and their happiest moments. It is redefining everything we understand in order to add as much of their comprehension to our own. It is never letting them fight on their own but always fighting next to them and maybe even fighting one another in order to protect that very Team. It's doing the impossible to never let the other one hurt and always making certain to protect and cherish what the other one loves. It is a challenge that we must face and overcome every day. To some this may seem the most difficult aspect of a relationship but to me, it is this very vulnerability and demanding nature of love that makes us different and hopefully, better people than we could ever hope to be on our own as single individuals.

Most times and more often than not, we fail at this for any one of a multitude of reasons. In the case of K & M, likely never, Inshallah.

Quote of this day

".....for a fraction of a second, we feel that our whole life is justified, our sins forgiven, and that love is still the strongest force, one that can transform us forever.

But at the same time we feel afraid. Surrendering completely to love, be it human or divine, means giving up everything, including our own well-being or our ability to make decisions. It means loving in the deepest sense of the word. The truth is that we don't want to be saved in the way God has chosen; we want to keep absolute control over our every step, to be fully conscious of our decisions, to be capable of choosing the object of our devotion.

It isn't like that with love - it arrives, moves in, and starts directing everything. Only very strong souls allow themselves to be swept along......."

- The Witch of Portobello, Paulo Coelho

He who truly loves...

...must learn to weep.

Dealing with emotional stress

To clarify: No one can break your heart. That’s my starting point and it’s the only honest point of self empowerment. No one breaks our hearts, but rather, we allow our hearts to break. More importantly and more often that not, we play a majour part in breaking our own hearts.

This does not mean that there aren’t individuals who willingly – and enjoyably - inflict pain on others. Like the undeniable existence of the chickadee, there too is the undeniable existence of the Meanies who enjoy the trauma and hurt they cause others.

Most individuals we come in contact with are, simply put: ‘Goodies’. I’m sure that if they were edible, they would be sweet and soft and buttery. But they’re people and so I we hesitate to bite them; should they find me us trying to eat their elbow, they may be mislead into thinking I we are a little weird.

I think there’s much to be said in the way we choose to approach the particular subject of emotional stress or pain. Here are the four recommendations I have to offer…

First: Ring up your 4 best friends and cry on the phone without saying a word. I know that no one told you this, but this is really what friends are for. That and for buying you birthday gifts. Maybe in the shape of Crack. Ultimately, no one wants to cry alone and so it’s best to ring The Girls and weep. The occasional moan is also highly recommended. By the end of the day, your eyes will be a beautiful shade of red – were they rouge, they would be sold out – and they will be super tiny and you may even have the appearance of a different ethnicity which is always fun. Even cooler is that your hair will be extra frizzy; something you can’t buy in a bottle. Your sinuses will be clear and you will have a new found respect for the capacity of your mobile to function while drowned in tears.

Second: Accept and live the Regular Pain that comes with any sort of mourning. No matter the trauma, allow yourselves to mourn for three days and wear white, or if white doesn’t suit you, make certain to wear bright colours that reflect sunshine. Ultimately, people drop dead and we can get over it; surely we can get over anything else that’s thrown our way, n’est pas?

Avoid and do not let entry into your hearts and minds the self-inflicted Super Dooper Pain. We like to self-pity because self-help books and therapists and today’s values teach us that it’s okay to self-pity. It may even make us pretty. Frankly, there's nothing sexy about self-pity and it offers no self empowerment and no ability for movement, growth or self realization. When you ‘oh woe is me’ your life away, you’re placing yourself in a position of spiritual and emotional paralysis and stagnation. Stop it. Cut it out. Oh woe is you is unacceptable. It’s meaningless and detrimental to your beautiful self.

If you really must, then do it for no more than three days (I'm not kidding!). Then get out and go for a long walk and brush it off. If you have a friend who is Oh woe is her/he-ing, let them mourn for no longer than three days and then pull them out of their funk and force them to take a walk. Take them to a park, to a café, a restaurant, a movie…whatever. Don’t let them sit at home in isolation unless you want them to fall into a state of depression. Seriously, yo, this is not a joke.

Third: Self empower your a**. No one caused you heartache. Someone may have contributed to your sadness, but that’s it. Look at you; look at your actions and ask yourself what steps you took to bring this home to you. When you’ve seen that, then you can really work to dig yourself out from the hole in which you sit.

To me – because this is my blog - self empowerment means that I never stand by and let things ‘just happen’. I don’t believe in that sort of nonsense. If you’re the sort of individual who willingly and passively stands by and lets someone or something run amuck with your life, then you need to refocus and get perspective where you had none. Immediately. Blaming others for the circumstance of your life is a weakness. It’s a copout and a cheapening of who you are; even worse, it’s your perfect excuse to never grow.

My friend Al recently told me that when people invoke the “but I love him/her” clause, it causes a break in the conversation. He's absolutely correct; it serves as an excuse to justify misbehaviour and all emotional self-mutilation which ensues.

Before you next find yourself sobbing and blowing your nose at an unprecedented rate while declaring “but I love him/her”, please make certain to remove that statement and replay the conversation. This exercise will force you to see whether or not the actions are acceptable on their own merit. Don’t invoke the “but I love him/her” clause because it won’t do sh*t but turn you into a slave to your emotions. When all is said and done, you want to rule your emotions, becoming the master of your emotional domain, and not vice versa. This is what it means to have an elevated character and it is to this elevated character that each and every one of us should aim.

I will be the first to admit that I'm not there yet. I don't know if I ever will be, but I owe it to myself and to my heart to aim higher than my current station.

From this vantage point you can now open your eyes to your own actions. You’re at an impasse here and you can either choose to bemoan your state or to rectify it in no uncertain terms. If you choose the latter, then carefully choose the materials you will use to build who you are as an individual. The materials you use should be materials that will, as already mentioned above, elevate you instead of allowing you to regress.

Just remember; we can always ask more from ourselves and we can always deliver if we so choose. Nothing can come to fruition unless we want it to, and the only way to want something is to want it with an unshakeable heart filled with conviction.

Fourth: Remember that God never gives us more than we can handle…and the greater the challenge, the luckier we are. The greater the hurdle, the stronger we become. What may feel like a disaster today will be the hope that you use and on which you build your future.

Please note: None of this is meant to belittle the pain and trauma caused by the a**hole Meanie cheating on their partners and children.

Away...

I will be away from here for a while. I won't be responding to emails, either. Something in my heart has been broken and I don't know how to fix it so until I do, I won't be around. Please be well, each one of you.

Strawberries!!

M: "I love strawberries."
A: "I think I'll plant some, then."
M: "They grow beneath, right?"
A: "Beneath...the sky...? Yes. They. Do."
M: "Nooooo. Beneeeeath..."

A staring at me, as though I were mentally challenged, which, perhaps, I often times appear to be.

A: "No. You're thinking of potatoes."
M: "Ooooooh", while laughing hysterically and nearly falling out of my chair.
A: "You are perfect."

I must really brush up on my farming. Because growing strawberries amounts to farming, n'est pas?

Are they good enough for you?

Most of us believe in Karma. I believe in it without prejudice and so hope that any actions I put out there are done in the spirit of bringing the good of her my way.

I recently heard from the best friend of someone who I thought was, a few months back, somewhat important to me (not important in the earth shattering way, but important enough to enjoy the moment). Unfortunately, he decided that it would be acceptable - nay, necessary - to treat me in a manner not befitting the treatment of any person. What that means is that he was a complete sh*t who did something that really hurt my ego. At the time, I would have told you that my feelings were hurt, but the reality of it was that it was my ego that took the hit.

I should’ve known something was amiss when after the lie was told, I couldn’t cry. And let me tell you, just as I Am Canadian, I Too Am A Weeper.

It was the first time something like this had happened; heavily unusual because I’d never dealt with that severity of immaturity and disrespect and because I try to make certain that my ego does not rely on how others perceive me but rather, on how I perceive myself, how well I treat others, and what I’ve achieved by way of my own hard work.

To put it bluntly, he didn’t have the capacity to Man Up about something and so instead chose to tell me something deeply hurtful in an effort to place distance between him and I. Nine days later, I discovered it was a lie and the reflection of it on his character was so immense that Trish - who never says a peep - responded with "That's not rad. In fact, that's so not rad it's shameful".

He was pathetic and a coward - and if there's one thing any man needs to know about someone like me it's that I don't particularly like the company of a chicken sh*t. If there is even a hint of cowardice, then he's just not for me. Needless to say, both he and the situation became a joke between The Girls and I and he is now and forever referred to as The Pink Lady. (This potential to become a ‘joke’ is the chance one takes when behaving in such an incomprehensible manner. Consider yourself warned, both men and women.)

Fast forward and find your BlogMistress facing the following conversation with his best friend:
“…bla bla bla, you’re making him out to be such a bad person when he’s not. He’s my best friend and I know him bla bla bla and he regrets bla bla bla and wants to try bla bla bla and I know it’s been months but he can’t stop thinking about you and I bla bla bla…stop making him out to be such a bad guy, it’s not fair.”

The long and short of it is, he wants a second chance because I'm a Ferris Wheel and you can take me out for an unlimited amount of spins.

You may have already guessed this if you live here and pay attention to my stupid entries: I’m not a big ‘second chancer’, even though I am a big ‘forgiver’. I am this way for one simple reason: No one who wanted a second chance originally ever meant enough to warrant it. Of note are two men to whom I would afford a ‘second chance’ but only because it would technically be a ‘first chance’. Although that may read as code to you, they would understand it without problem, and that’s all that matters in terms of that sentence.

Back to this boy. After hearing out his best friend, I said something which I’d not thought about or planned or fantasized about or ever considered because after the above mentioned nine days, life had returned to normal and I quite literally never wasted another moment thinking of him. He was a stranger before I met and dated him, and he returned to that category relatively easily.

Although the hurt was felt by my ego, what I said came from my head and was said with the utmost calm because it remains to me the equivalent of saying “my eyes are hazel”. It wasn’t meant to be vindictive or hurtful, but rather the truth of where my head was at post nine days of lie, and where it remains today. I said:

“It’s not that he’s that bad of a guy because I’m sure he’s capable of being lovely…
it’s that he’s just not good enough for me.”

…and although I’m neither the vindictive sort nor the sort to ever ever ever enjoy the potential hurt of another, I couldn’t help but smile a little when a few steps after closing my mobile, it dawned on me the sentiment of my sentence.

& with that, I’ll say that I hope you too understand your worth and value and never stray from your incredible potential, be it alone or with another.

There’s nothing ironic about losing your heart

.1. On Sunday, my heart took a hike. She flipped me the bird and left.

Do think she’s gone to the Azores to visit with Hannah and Charlie and I shall leave her be until she’s ready to come back to the comfort of her home. There’s never a point in forcing her to do anything because she is as stubborn as a mule and will always win out in a fight if I challenge her to change her mind at my whim.

.2. Recently, someone said to your blogMistress: “I have something “ironic” to tell you…”

Under different circumstances, I would have cut this person off and offered:
“(A) Misuse of the term ‘ironic’ because you are not telling me the opposite of that which I expect. You really mean coincidental, or interesting, or mind-boggling, or funny or neat. You do not mean ‘ironic’.
&
(B) Ill use of the finger quotes. You are not emulating a written quote. I understand that Hemingway used the word ‘ironic’, properly, but there really is no need for you to use your fingers and make little bunny ears at me in this way.
&
(C) Pick up a book, please.
&
(D) Maybe just stop talking altogether.”

Only instead, I let this individual proceed because I was quite literally having a panic attack and was left with no choice but to smile wide and feign both happiness and interest.

.3. Nanno’s wake is this evening.

.4. If any of you have ever feared that your actions and/or words may be misconstrued as bitter, please take a moment to absorb Liza Minnelli’s following statement, in which she expresses her hopes for ex-husband David Gest (who is to do a reality-type show in Australia): "I hope he gets f*cked by a kangaroo and eaten by crocs."

.5. Rock is in Arizona studying his a*s off in some special homeopathic schooling thing. Upon his graduation in four years, he will be a chiropractor, a homeopathic doctor, an acupuncturist, a super masseuse, a rock star and Heidi Klum. I am really quite excited for him…and for me, as he will be my free “homo doctor”. He doesn’t know I call him this thinks it funny that I call him this.

Of my entire family, he is the one who understands me best and who reads me like an open book. Yesterday was his birthday and I rang and left him a very brief message. In his ‘thank you’ email, which he will kill me for sharing with you, he wrote: “ You seemed a little all over the place on your message and I'm thinking you need a vacation yourself. (…) So who's giving you grief? (…) I can schedule a trip down there and break some knee caps if you want me to. I've been throwing the big f*ck you around to anyone that rubs me the wrong way lately so you can try that approach too. I've got numbers in my phone down to 8 now. I figured I've got too little time and way too much sh*t to get through the next few years to have negativity brought into my world, so I warned people not to f*ck with me. I'm an asshole though and you’re a princess so if you want I could be your ambassador of a*s whippings. Let me know.”

Aren’t you in love with my cousin, then?

I believe

in love stories, actually.

Even with everything I've just written about keeping myself so totally guarded.

Do you?

Mr. Adjective

What follows does not stem from any particular experience I have had, but rather, it is from observing dear girlfriends go through what I am about to describe and reading emails sent from girls living at this blog who have also gone through the same thing. Am hoping that this entry may help some girls either avoid or let go of their own 'Mr.Adjective'.

Every once in a while, I post a personal opinion on straight men and the straight women with whom they interact.

Tonight, I’ve decided to discuss one such caricature of a man.

Society at large calls him A Player.
Women call him The Love of My Life.
Men call him Stud.
I call him Mr. Adjective.

The man with the thesaurus
Mr. Adjective doesn’t have to be spectacularly beautiful, but he does have to be charming. He needs to know how to work a room and everyone in that room (male, female, straight, queer, undecided, fetishist, child, etc.). For the most part, Mr. Adjective does this by making every single person in said room feel like they are the very centre of his attention. This is often done by his undivided almost creepy concentration on and awareness of you when you’re in his face. He’s heavy with eye contact, will ask you intimate details about your life and may even share intimate details with you. (In hindsight and when you revisit his words, you’ll recognize that he didn’t really give you much of anything, let alone something honestly intimate.)

Mr. Adjective will tell you you’re ‘innocent’, ‘childlike’, ‘fragile’, ‘delicate’, ‘breakable’, ‘exposed’. Lines that are well practiced and well placed in Mr. Adjective’s game of seduction. He’s smart enough to understand these words evoke a need for protection, and who better to provide that protection than the very man seated before you telling you how strong and sexy you are. ”And yet, how oddly ‘fragile’ you appear to be.”

It’s relatively simple: He’s a predator, and he’s supreme at what he does.

I’ve been lucky because I’ve had one such experience which I recognised immediately and so was able to avoid (as it was being executed rather poorly by a man I am inclined to call a mental handicap).

A small aside to any women currently suffering the aftermath of Mr. Adjective: What he doesn’t know yet is that he’ll peek and then drop as soon as he hits 40, due to the repeated intake of antibiotics used to fight his many S.T.Ds.

Your role in Mr. Adjective’s game
The problem with Mr. Adjective is that whereas he may be playing you (& recall: “Players only love you when they’re playing”), Mr. Right will also throw adjectives around because he means it. Whereas the former is somewhat of a loser in need of validation received from throwing his d*ck in anything that moves, you will genuinely enthrall the latter (how could you not?). You have to learn to differentiate and to hold Mr. Adjective at arm’s length. For the most part, Mr. Adjective will make a killer friend because there’s a lot to learn from him in terms of male/female interaction (just as there is to be learned from Ms. Player where men are concerned).

Unfortunately, there’s no equation here. There’s no simple word or moment or indication that will help you differentiate between Mr. Adjective and the nice guy; it’s a matter of trusting your gut instinct & your intuition and ultimately, of learning how to be a good judge of character. If you’re Ms. Player, it’ll be easier for you to pinpoint Mr. Adjective, understanding his game and seeing his tactical moves before he does. Ms. Player will play it back in spades. (e.g. evoking what every man wants to hear about himself: strength, alpha, provider, protector, etc.)

Be the smarter woman and know what’s happening as it’s happening. While doing this, permit Mr. Adjective the illusion that you’re falling for his every word. Essentially, let him think you believe what he's saying to you (because being seduced by Mr. Adjective is really quite lovely). Then move on.

The aftermath of Mr. Adjective
If you fell for the seduction willingly or otherwise, your interaction with Mr. Adjective will be short lived. When all is said and done, he’ll do one very particular thing: he’ll insist that you call him. Over and over again, he’ll insist that you call him. This happened to F and I had to sit back and watch it without saying a word because she wouldn’t allow any of us to ‘slander’ the boy in question. The fall out from that situation was devastation where she was concerned, but she’s a better woman for it today.

Understand that he’s not asking you to call him because he wants you to call him. It most definitely is not because he wants any sort of a relationship with you. It is his way of pussying-out. And by ‘pussying-out’, I mean he doesn’t ever have to call you. You may call five times or maybe even ten times. Every time you speak, he’ll tell you how happy he is you called; he’ll tell you how great it is to hear your voice; he’ll tell you he’s sorry he’s not called but he’s been so busy that he’s not had a moment to “even” shine his ego. He’ll never commit to calling you, not even at the end of that conversation…instead, he will ask you to call him again.

Mr. Adjective never wants you to think ill of him. He never wants you to discover he's an asshole, and so he always wants you to walk away thinking he still wants you "if only". "If only" he had more time. "If only" he didn't have such a busy schedule. "If only" he got that rash cleared up. "If only" he wasn't such a gigantic enormous leech on your emotional well-being.

That’s his hook, because it validates what you were looking for: That he wanted to hear from you, and you can’t be angry with him because he was happy to hear from you. Wasn’t he? I mean, why would he ask you to call back if he wasn’t happy to hear from you?

There are two things Mr. Adjective can't handle: (1) you discovering that he's an enormous d*ck; and, (2) a woman sharp enough to know what he's trying to do. Re the former, if he showed you he really wasn’t pleased with your call, you’d think he was an asshole. Re the latter, he will immediately back off, not even attempting to pursue Her because she's not good for his ego. He won’t be able to seduce Her, and that would be a huge defeat where Mr. Adjective’s concerned.

He feels good when he seduces you.
He feels good when he wins at his own game. (He's a winner!)
He feels good when you call him.
He feels good because he never has to feel guilty.
He feels good because you pay him way much more attention than he ever deserved.

In closing…
If he wanted you, he would have come after you and nothing in the world could have gotten in his way. That’s the bottom line with men, and if they’re incapacitated and incapable of pursuing what they want (you), you don’t want them anyway. Don’t kid yourselves about Mr. Adjective; he’s a messy variation of ‘p*ssy’ because he doesn’t have what it takes to play you and walk away from you like a real woman. Instead, he half-asses it and plays you while still wanting you to like him and think he’s a nice guy. I actually can’t help but feel sorry for Mr. Adjective. But I’m arrogant that way.

Never believe that you’re the exception to the rule but always know that were he lucky enough to bag you for the long haul, no body else could compare.

Don’t sit around waiting for him, because he’s not thinking about you. (Sweetheart, he’s too busy trying to find an acceptable adjective for ‘underage’.) Believe what he says to you in the moment because you are all those things, including fragile and sexy and sensual. Because Mr. Adjective may have been lucky enough to hit the nail on the head thanks to his bedside thesaurus, it doesn’t make it’s reality any less true.

It’s very nearly Saturday evening and a nice guy is waiting for you to step into his life as Mr. Adjective sits at home and applies his ointment. Get out there and have some safe fun…

A Man In Need of Validation: War of the sexes part 2

You can find part 1 here.

I wasn’t going to write about this until the shit hit the fan quite recently. A few of The Girls and I were out and ran into two of the three people I discuss in this entry. They’re the two individuals I dislike.

Recently, one of our dearest girlfriends was overlooked by a man for whom she deeply cares. No matter what we say or offer, try to understand and make sense of, she sees none of it.

All she sees is that: he chose another over her.

Unfortunately, and bypassing all of the excuses we try to make, we tend to agree. We were witness to their interaction and to the energy and chemistry that resonated from them when they were together. From the moment they met, their chemistry was instantaneous and obvious to all of us in that room.

This is a woman who is brilliant and gorgeous, witty, educated, elegant and dangerously fun. She has a smile that brightens any room she walks into; a room she immediately owns even when she knows no one. She’s also confident, sophisticated and isn’t easily intimidated. And therein lie the rub(s), which I will get to in a moment.

I won’t deny that he too is an attractive man, intelligent, worldly, well read, and extremely engaging. They made a handsome couple.

All The Girls can manage is a small fib of: He’s just not that into you? I hate this sentiment because it renders men 1-dimensional, and although it should be helping her, it’s not because we all know it’s a lie. We just couldn’t understand his actions…

Until we saw him with his new girlfriend. Unfortunately, our girl wasn’t with us; unfortunate because she would have walked out of that restaurant disappointed but understanding her real worth.

I write the following with the full recognition that we were only witness to their interaction for one evening, and we were in public.

The one thing that screamed out at me was that his attraction to Her is solidly rooted in the validation she gives him. Until that moment, we’d known nothing about Her. Watching them interact was like watching, in slow motion, an episode of How To Disgrace The Sisterhood. I also watched how she moved and walked through the crowd, how she interacted with others and her reaction to attractive women.

Naturally, I was also eavesdropping. Look, the restaurant is so small that they were both practically sitting on my lap. It was astonishing to note that she had no opinion, there were no questions posed, no challenges made, no intelligent remarks, but rather simple “uh-uh”, “oh wow”, “oh my god” peppered among the “you’re so clever”, “that’s so smart!” and of course “you’re so funny, tee hee.” My fu*king ears almost started bleeding. I’m still flabbergasted, and not by any stretch of the imagination am I a woman who is flabbergasted easily. Oftentimes dumbfounded with the appearance of stupefied, yes, but not ‘flabbergasted’.

I was also so completely disappointed in him. What a shame that this is the boy he turned out to be, when I thought my girl had given her heart to a man.

Because I’m the bestest best friend in the whole wide world, I immediately rang his best friend (who remains a relative good friend of mine) and told him what I’d seen. He agreed, and not reluctantly, he confirmed that she was a Yes Girl. Not very confident or terribly smart, simple, not a challenge and most definitely not someone his best friend was taking seriously or contemplating committing to.

My best friend, on the other hand, was all of the above. Granted, ‘unsophisticated’ does not necessarily mean it’s a situation from which one can’t experience pleasure…it just means that for me, I’d get bored much too quickly. My attention span and level of patience are severely short and so sophisticated is what engages me. If we were in a craft store, I’d be haunting the Logic Puzzle aisle, while He would be in the paint by numbers area.

This incensed me because I sort of went through this once (but nowhere near the same degree). Another of my best friends went through this and she was – physically and emotionally – ruined. I watched my mother go through this when I was 13. I watched her try to make sense of losing the only man she’s ever loved, I watched her fall apart as my father packed and left. At one point later in the timeline of each of these stories, the men regretted their actions and asked to be let back in. (Mine, moments before he announced his engagement to another woman.) Unfortunately for them, we’re not cut from the same cloth as the ‘simple’ ones; with us, the door is open only once, and when it’s closed it disappears completely as though it never existed. Simply stated, women like us don’t wait around.

Validation comes not from men, but rather from our achievements. Men, although still a necessity in terms of intimacy and love, strength, protection and all wonderful masculine qualities offered, are a bonus. This I truly mean in the most complimentary way possible. Ultimately, I believe that to be wanted when you’re not needed is much more satisfying and heartwarming than to be wanted only because you’re needed. There is a level of desperation in need, something that’s never served me as an aphrodisiac. Compare it to free will; I choose, rather than I need. Which would you rather?

Are a boy’s insecurities so great that he can’t see this?

All of this I raised with baba when we were dining the other evening; he was very forthcoming with me because he was once a typical boy. I guess that, for the most part, I think that my dad’s right about boys. I think he’s spot on…and I like men because they’re confident, aggressive, proud individuals who demand only the best from their partner because they return it in kind. But I really don’t want to date a 60 year old. So what do I do?

Conversation with baba: War of the sexes part 1

I will provide you the context of this within the coming little while…

(Meet my dad, the feminist.)
“How could he possibly be interested in a woman that’s so obviously there ONLY to feed his ego? He’s so smart, dad.”
“There’s a reason why the female archetype is ‘The Blonde Bombshell’.”
“Times are a changin’ baba! Blondes are out.”
“(laughter) Ok, Maha, but it’s the sentiment that still exists. At the end of the day, men within a certain age group don’t want a terribly sophisticated woman. They need someone who will validate them, someone who will make them feel stronger and smarter and the best thing in the world.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. A man doesn’t want to be challenged.”
“You didn’t. That’s why you left mom.”
“That’s right. I can admit that now. I needed a different sort of woman.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m nearly 60, Maha. Now, I know the only sort of woman I can be with is a woman who challenges me. Through challenge, I become a better man.”

(Meet my dad, the guy who forgot my 31st birthday.)
“So where does that leave me?”
“You’re going to be 32.”
“No way! When?”
“October 16”
“Rock on.”

(Meet my dad, my number one fan.)
“Maha.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m being serious.”
“Yes. Of course. Sorry. I like pink.”
“(laughter) That’s part of the reason you’re having trouble finding a good and worthy man. You’re surrounded by boys who are intimidated by you. You’re too much for a boy. You need a man.”
“So what do I do? OH MY GOD, I should date 60 year olds like you?”
“No. You have to find a man whose not intimidated by your beauty, wit and brains. You have a rare combination and you don’t know how to tone it down. Nor should you have to.”
“(pause) I like pink.”
“You’re a strange kid.”
“Like a goat?”
“Maha.”
“I like goats, baba. But not as much as I like pink.”

A Banana Tree & The Invite to NYC

As mentioned earlier today, I am redecorating my room. I decorate from the corners and work my way out, and so I started with my favourite intimate corner which has always struck me as a little exposed.

In keeping with the theme of Occupied Bombay, I knew I needed a Banana Tree. Banana Trees are quite underrated, folks. Apparently, they’re also a rarity. I hunted everywhere for one, and finally found the perfect Banana Tree for my corner.

Please say hello to Tilda, my Banana Tree:



Isn’t she beautiful?

My outstanding list of items is now narrowed down to:
- Wire backed chair
- Reading chair
- Ottoman to match the reading chair
- One large tapestry
- A chandelier
- I’ll be removing three massive panels behind which resides my wardrobe, because I’ve decided to instead hang very heavy drapes in their place (shades of reds & golds)
- Miscellaneous items such as candles, frames and at least three mirrors to slip above my headrest, to reflect the proper light.
- That’ll leave me with one wall empty, a space I’m as of yet unsure how I’ll work with…

I wasn’t joking when I wrote “42 years”.

&

I’ve accepted an invite to NY for my birthday. Only, I won’t be going on my birthday but rather the weekend following.

It took me some time to make up my mind, but now that it's all made up I’m terribly excited & consequences be damned. My heart's a mess, anyway.