6 Things I hate about you

Here is a list of six things that really do not gel with me on dates, or make the hairs at the back of my neck stand up straighter than they do after an episode of American Horror Story:

I'm not your damsel in distress
I’m not your damsel in distress

1.I’m not your damsel in distress
– not to say that a tall, dark, handsome stranger needn’t enter my life and fill it with glee (I’m still of the disney princess childhood fantasy clan, I’m afraid) but I don’t need you to do anything for me, I am more than capable of doing it myself. It’s true the thought of a tiara appeals to me greatly but bet your bonnet I can get it to sparkle on my head without you just fine. I am opinionated, contradictory, distant…and I don’t need you saving me from all my flaws. But thanks.

Ex-Talk
Ex-Talk

2.I don’t mind you talking about your ex on a date, but if it’s overly negative, I do
– don’t forget you once claimed to love this person and I’m in full belief that part of you, once loving a person, never stops- that part belongs to the memory of them -and let them, you owe yourself an amiable memory of the relationship no matter how badly it may have ended (yes, I know, easier said then done but I believe in it) and I’m aware heartache causes a negative reaction towards the heartbreaker, but speaking negatively about her only makes me increasingly aware of what I lack and what you will say about me should our potential relationship come to an end.

I'm not a bitch because some guy hurt me, sometimes I'm just a bitch
I’m not a bitch because some guy hurt me, sometimes I’m just a bitch

3. I’m not a bitch because some guy hurt me, sometimes I’m just a bitch
– when I go on a date and display strong opinions, primarily against commitment, I’m greeted with a free therapy session (oh bless! And thank your kindness) about what degrees of fucked up I could be and why – usually the answer in your mind is some guy “damaged” me…oh honey! No guy damaged me I’m just not the relationship type (until the right one comes along) and sometimes, I’m just a bitch.

Part of me is a hopeless romantic, the other part is, well, an asshole
Part of me is a hopeless romantic, the other part is, well, an asshole
4. Part of me is a hopeless romantic, the other part is, well, an asshole
– I’m a sucker for beautifully choreographed words strung together better than an orchestra quartet and gestures of affections that various magnitudes of literature have allowed me to fantasize about. However, I despise cliches, I’m not touched by your act of bringing me the same roses you bought your 30 previous dates, I want sunflowers. I will not be bowled over by a dinner with candlelight in a pricey restuarant that you know is a “sure win”, I like the hole in the wall almost nobody knows exists that serves authentic Italian. And I refuse to show you any sort of admiration if your idea of romance is a winky emoji in a text message – wink at me in real life at least!
I am not your trophy!!
I am not your trophy!!

5. I’m not the warrior race, tour de France, academy award or grand prix
Whilst I accept you like to push yourself and challenge yourself and your passion towards your favourite sports team is a turn on, I am no trophy. I am not a conquest to be achieved or a challenge to be taken up. The words “I like a challenge” in response to one of my views about you by no means appeals to me, in fact, it hurts. The truth is that once the challenge is completed, I have probably started to like you – a lot, at which point you have lost interest as the challenge is complete and congratulations you have another trophy stacked on your “girl-challenge” shelf … Thanks.

It's not your money, it's YOU
It’s not your money, it’s YOU

6.  She ain’t nothing but a gold-digger

On many an occasion I have heard various degrees and variations of the phrases ” you’re a gold-digger” or “high-maintenance” and when I ask why, the answer is a very underwhelming shrug accompanied by ” I don’t know, you kinda have that look” (well. Gee thanks for that clarification). But, I am not on my second degree in pursuit of being the most over-educated housewife in the history of housewives. It’s true I do like to be taken care of by a man, but just as much as I enjoy taking care of him. If you can’t, I understand, and don’t expect you to. It’s not your money, it’s you.
(All images sourced from: http://www.pinterest.com)

Ghost of relationship’s past

http://potd.pdnonline.com/2011/01/8043The dearly departed are often glorified after their deaths, where once he was a “drunk uncle” he becomes the “life of the party”, and where she was once “manipulating and lying” she becomes “creative, with a way with words.” Whether it is because we, as a human race, feel guilt, shame or our final respects, we do tend to make those who have passed away a shade brighter in their death.

This got me thinking; does the same phenomenon happen in the passing of a relationship? Do we glorify the memories of the relationship that once was in order to numb the pain of the events leading up to its annihilation?

Do we forget the ghosts of relationship’s past?

We insist on running back into the burning room of our hearts, our former relationships, and are adamant in searching through the ashes to revive something that no longer is. We fall asleep to dream of our dearly departed relationships only to awaken with the sting of a fresh heartbreak.

Is it an attempt to feel again, even if it’s an altered memory?

Personally, I think a part of it is that we glorify our former emotions and memories in order to remind ourselves that we did love, and sometimes loved intensely, and the part of us that allowed us to love another refuses to let go of the ability to do so in the future. Maybe, the holding onto our memories allows us to, somehow, let go of the heartbreak and remember things (or people) as they deserve to be remembered; in fairness and in love.

So, to the emotions I once felt:  promise I shall feel you again in all your glory when the time is right.

The “just friends” game

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I have this friend who I met and kissed under very drunk circumstances (the more I write the more I’m beginning to think I have a drinking problem) and soon after our meeting we decided we’d be friends (with the added benefit of kissing each other under aforementioned drunk circumstances- which actually only happened once).

We went out on “dates” where no hand holding, cuddling, affection or kissing were present, rather our conversations were laden with sarcasm and his constant surprise that I’m smarter than I look (in his defence I’m a blonde studying fashion, stereotypes don’t do me much justice). We became fast friends with blatant honesty towards each other, especially in the field of romantic tendencies. We both discovered that we’re selfish beings too wrapped up in our own lives to actively or fairly participate in a proper relationship.

We spoke constantly and then sometimes not at all, and I can tell you it was a much appreciated friendship. But then I had missed his birthday – I hold birthdays of little to no importance and often forget that people get sentimental about celebrating them, a fact I found out soon after. I thought it no big deal, naturally, and apologized for my missing but assumed more than enough ladies were present to keep his indulgences satisfied. (Apparently I was wrong)

Anyway some time had passed and we had both come back from our separate holidays (him with his friends and mine with a man-but that’s a story for another day) and he had invited me for drinks and a movie. On the night, our natural flow of sarcasm ensued and the movie was rather entertaining, however as the movie ended he kissed me… Unusual, considering neither of us were drunk and I was under strict perception that we were just friends.

Lucky me, he told me he was attracted to me and needed to have me- not in the romantic sense but physical. I giggled and told him we were friends, a fact I never hid or diverged from, and he agreed, that we wouldn’t go further as it would ruin our friendship.

Funny thing though, since then we hadn’t spoken. It has been months. I’m not upset as much as curious as to why the silence? but I accept it… But riddle me this; sex was going to ruin the frienship?

When I say we’re just friends, I mean it. Why can’t others?

The mystery of the pyramids…and the heart

http://www.hplyrikz.com/
http://www.hplyrikz.com/

When searching for a reason for most mysteries in life I often am disappointed with absence of an answer. I suppose that is the thing about mysteries: most will always remain in the black holes of time. However, from the mysteries of the Egyptian pyramids to those of the mind, none is more mysterious or unsolvable than the reasoning of the human emotion.

Love is a four letter word that has countless pieces written in its tribute. I think it is only fair that, in turn, I dedicate an entry to this almost unexplained sensation. The difficulty in writing this piece is not the lack of knowledge towards the subject but rather the lack of a decent idea on how to describe the emotion without a clichéd, cheesy description.

My love is a complicated one; it is filled with care, kindness and dependence but twisted on the outskirts with a hint of jealousy, a pinch of mistrust and a tiny dose of life’s betrayals. For me, to love is most difficult, but to love me, is even worse. With a somewhat warped and conflicted character I battle to balance the want for freedom with the need for a constant being. I’m attention-seeking yet distant, fun yet disconnected, but with all this I love. A constant tug of war between my hardness and softness, my want to enwrapped in the arms in another and my need for freedom, my insane fear of commitment and the fear of loneliness.

While reading over my description, one is almost drawn immediately to the sense of desperation while I try most hard to avoid it. You see, my love is real, my love is whole and my love is complicated. I cannot explain why.

That is where my mystery is given birth to and my curiosity for reason is aroused.

WOW! this is going to make dating easier...NOT
WOW! this is going to make dating easier…NOT

Is Christina Yang my spirit animal ?

There is a certain sentimentality that comes when one is with another human being. Except I’m not sure this feeling I am able to feel. Maybe the heartache of a relationship past is so severe that the heart/brain does not allow for any amount of attachment or maybe I’m simply not wired that way..

As I lie in the arms of my friend one night (side note: I have a habit of calling the men I’m involved with friends, although I kiss them…a lot. They are all well aware of the fact that I call them just friends, and that I give myself, and them, the complete freedom to see other people. How this functions? I don’t honestly know. But somehow it does)….anyway, as I lie in the Arms of my ‘friend’ one night I find myself completely emotionally unattached to him, while physically we have great chemistry I don’t find myself jealous at the conversation of another girl or on any level wishing that he were mine… I find this very odd.

Will I manage to care one day? Is it me? Or is it the case of just finding the right one? Or maybe I’m the Christina Yang of the world?

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(Ummm don’t cuddle me)

The curse of the bad kiss

Is there anything worse than a bad kiss? Now I’m well aware that this topic is not new nor is it particularly unheard of, in fact I’m sure if I googled bad kissing an endless queue of blogs, articles and pictures are bound to come up. The list of bad kisses is endless; from the over-enthusiastic tongues resembling washing machines, to the lizard like movements of another and then the gaping hole where nothing happens but the lips do not stop moving ?! All of which confuse me to endless bounds, how is it that some men just do not know how?!?! But the worst kiss of all must be the one you wish would work. Let me elaborate;

There was a man who I was completely in lust with, his features resembled those of a Greek statue brought to life by perfection itself. His thoughts were so intriguing that I was almost was completely hypnotized by his every syllable and while I thought I stood no chance ( I do believe he is way out of my league) he asked me to come away with him and I did. Tension built between the two of us and thoughts of unsure nature soon took over. An hour into our trip and the kiss was done… But something was off; his kiss.
Oh how I willed Our kiss to be that of the most romantic films, of stories untold and passions unfolded…instead it was average, completely and irreversibly average…and I found myself unsure how to feel. Although he still intrigues me and I think of him often I have decided That for me is the worst kind of kiss; the wishful one, the one that was meant to be electric that passerbys would feel it just as intensely

And it just isn’t.

Make love

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(Image from : http://steinerkd.tumblr.com/post/60300005294)

Just a little something I found browsing my endless list of articles, quotes and passages, and thought maybe, if I loved it, I would share it and see if you do too.

“Make love
Like you have no
Secrets
Like you’ve
Never been
Left
Never been
Hurt
Like the world
Don’t owe you a
Single
Wretched
Thing.”
– Warson Shire