Old fashioned dating and the modern breakup

Well, I’m back – not that I’m entirely sure that anyone but my best friend noticed but hey let me pretend for a moment longer that someone (I do not personally know) reads my little ramblings. So let me start:

SATC-breakup-post-it
At least Carrie got a note…

In many respects I find myself rather old-fashioned, I do not have wi-fi in my home, facebook nor do I subscribe to any television networks or dating websites/apps which render the dating world a whole lot more accessible (not that I write off the idea quite yet).

No, I am old-fashioned young(ish) human that enters the dating world first by meeting the person physically (bars, shopping malls, neighbours, gym, bumping into randomly), exchanging numbers (surprisingly a cellphone and not landline) and then pursuing conversations, meeting up a couple of times until we either end up dating (usually rather casually – hey that rhymed) or parting ways.

However, there is one aspect of modern dating that I cannot escape and, experience more often than I care to admit, and that is the modern break up. I find, on many an occasion, that when dating someone I believe everything to be going swimmingly and then no words, no texts, nothing –incognito. And the existence of your former flame seems like a foggy dream you once had yet struggle to hold onto or remember.

In my mind, I can’t help but wonder; do I not deserve the courtesy of being told I am no longer interesting, that you grew tired of catering to my company?

Hmmm I’m not sure I enjoy this modernity. Have we moved so forward in technology that courtesy, manners and respect have been out-programmed in our human nature.

Advertisements

Crossing International borders

A

It appears I have a weakness… A weakness for pilots,adventurers, game Rangers, anyone who travels… And travels a lot.

These type of men pack their bags at a whim and dash off for an adventure the minute their hearts get restless and their passports feel emptier than it did a day before. These men are perfect.
And in this I find comfort, as it caters to my commitment-phobia whilst also catering to my need for romance. Hence, my seeing yet another pilot at the moment .

My view to them is what happens over international borders is their business, so I never ask what misbehaviors they have experienced or entanglements they decided upon.

This got me thinking; does the same apply to me?

I’ve grown rather restless in the last few days and sense that another country may need my presence. So, I wonder if the pilot will take the same stance on international romances as I do?

In the dating game, what international boundaries can be crossed?

image

(Pictures: Pinterest.com)

Sparks, fireworks and a sizzle 


I sparked! For real! Now, a spark with someone is that cosmic moment where the world falls into utter chaos around you but you’re standing still and it all makes sense (I have a slight flair for the dramatic, I admit). In this moment things are infinite, problems are obsolete and the heart begins to thaw from its icy cavern.

This was the case one evening when I went to my local watering hole after a long and tedious exam period. He was tall, handsome and charming…and, of course, I dismissed him the minute he said hi (must be some sort of a defense mechanism). However ,my friend would not stand for it and somehow got him to join our social circle. We spoke a bit, laughed and danced. Add a bit of whiskey and I was smitten. But, this was nothing compared to the kiss goodnight; that parting moment when you’re unsure whether you will ever get to see this person again, and so we kissed. And boy! Did we kiss!

That’s when the spark turned into a freaking firework display of such a grand magnitude Gatsby would be jealous (wow, I’m full of cliches today – I suppose there is a reason they are cliches). We parted, and the thought of him lingers…. Hmmm, I wonder if I will hear from sparky ever again?

After the storm – 11 things I learned after a break up

1. I am allowed to be blonde 

1

During my relationship, no hair changes were to be made without the significant consent of significant other. Some called it controlling, I called it love (pssshtt). My hair was to remain dark and that was the end of discussion. As a singleton my hair changes as much as my mood, blonde today, pink tomorrow?

2. I am the master of my own body 

2

My ex-boyfriend was a part-time model and as occupational hazards had he was fit, athletic and gorgeous. In turn, I was to uphold a standard of my own, if I were a kilogram over the acceptable weight line he owned the right to call me “tubby”. I now have now learned I am the master of my own body , I can eat as many pizzas as I damn well please an dhow much I choose to dedicate my life to the gym- my body, my business!!

3. Where was this money at?

3

Often, after break-ups, many men have more money since they pay for two -BAH- wrong! I finally have money to spend on me and not shared dinners, popcorn at the movies, the dress he approves of…it’s mine, all mine!!! bahahaha (I feel I may be experiencing a slight heightening of crazy in my single days). …ooohhh shoes!!!

4. I actually have friends

4

I was so lost in the planning of “our” weekends that I had never dedicated time for MY weekends. I loved the time we spent together as a couple but now I appreciate that weekends are my own to spend with people who love me regardless of my flaws, my friends, who were often forgotten in the turmoil of a romance but still remain in the after-effects of the break up storm.

5. I discovered family

5

When heartbreaks are done and the world begins to be a little lonelier, there are a group of people who are a constant. My family. In my tearful outbursts and overly-ecstatic reactions they remain a pillar of my spirit and a building block forward towards the person I want to be.

6. Heels, glorious, heels

6

As a fairly tall individual, I often have to contemplate what shoes to wear on dates and whether my heels are too high or not. I now have the freedom to were stilts and not have to be overly concerned about whether or not my partner feel emasculated due to a pair of heels.

7. I may not know what I want, But I know what I don’t want

7

I do not have a boyfriend checklist – tall, dark, handsome etc. In fact, I often just like the person for an unusual reason and I don’t know what that reason is. I may not know what I want in a person, but I’ve learned what I don’t want and it is an important lesson to learn.

8. Wait!! Someone finds me attractive?

8

So long was I a girlfriend that the only drink ever bought for me was from my significant other. Nowadays every time someone buys me a drink or pays me a compliment, I am stunned… someone finds me attractive? How did that happen Pssht who cares? You have my permission to carry on.

9. I do not need your permission

9

In a relationship I often have to ask the permission of my significant other to do a great number of things, and I usually end up apologizing profusely if I had not. For example, if I decided I need to fly out to another country just to clear my mind a bit, I’d need to ask permission, discuss why I need to get away, fight about the relationship and my ungratefulness and then remain were I was to maintain the safety of my relationship. And don’t get me started on the addition of a new tattoo. NO MORE! I do not need your permission… for anything.

10. The freedom of my wardrobe

10

My exes favourite outfit on me was jeans, sneakers and white tank top or a LBD. Now while I like those outfit ideas I’m a girl of boho tastes, loose skirts, backless dresses and off-the shoulder tops – none of which was approved. I now have my narnia, a wardrobe full of possibilities and nobody to restrict me.

11. Not a plus one

11

No longer are invites addressed to me as “plus one”, I have learned I have a name! And it ends up on invites eeek. NO longer am I a nameless entity attached to another person. There is a joy in that, oddly enough.

* All images found on pinterest.com

You are A to Z of fucked up

Moo is confused by this?!
Moo is confused by this?!

I like being chased, and complimented, and being paid attention to, but sometimes the man’s affections for me are just not enough for me to reciprocate the feelings back to him… At which point *BOOM* the world explodes and the man that stood before me singing my praises almost to the point of pedestal proportions turns into the type of man who spews insults faster than he can recall his family member’s names.

Let me explain:

On a weekend away with some friends, and copious amounts of alcohol, I ended up kissing one of them and even in my drunken, almost sloppy state, told him it was a mistake and that I apologize but I just don’t see him that way (plus his reputation of wham! Bam! Thank you ma’am! Was not one I was ready to endorse). He then, in protest, gave me a few compliments, to which I smiled kindly and then told him I’m retreating to my own bedroom the way I intended to all weekend- alone.

Well, at that point, the magic transformation had begun – I went from being beautiful to “you’re nothing more than a hot body and cute face – an empty vessel otherwise”, ” you have more psychological issues than buffalo bill”, “your degrees of fucked up are so advanced that Freud couldn’t begin to figure you out”, “not everyone wants you, in fact, I’m surprised anyone does”…the list goes on (in fact I’m sure there was an entire encyclopedia dedicated to my many flaws) so, after his little rant, I did the only natural thing to do- I went to bed.

The next morning offered no apologies and I was labelled a bitch. Was this a case of fierce angst against rejection or was the split personality act I endured just a part of some circus show I’m blissfully unaware of?

freak show

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.

Desperado…or commitment phobia?

IMG_4381

There are men who just don’t get it, at all! And no matter how much you try explain they just will never.

I am not flimsy in my choices of relationships, in fact it takes a lot for me to even contemplate getting into one at all (in 99% of the cases I just don’t). Some call it commitment-phobia (because imagine a person who doesn’t have a phobia) but I call it not settling.

I don’t mean in the sense that I’m waiting for a man who completes a checklist from 1 to 19 but rather waiting for the butterflies (I know! Who would have thought I had a thing for cliches) : enter desperado (the nickname I gave this date)- the man who wanted more…

Why? Why is it when I clearly express that I am there for fun and a good time men demand attention, loyalty, and commitment … Did I mispronounce ; ” this is casual” ?

Every time we went out Desperado would try hold my hand, try introduce me as his girlfriend and then laugh and say he was joking. (With a wishful tone hoping I would accept that it simply wasn’t).

Silly how when you want a relationship you swim in a pool of playboy sharks and the minute you want a bit of fun and flings you’re playing a game of “it’s not you, it’s me”. Obviously, I no longer could go out with desperado, his need for me sent me running towards the hills and further… Is it a case of him not being the right one…or am I truly commitment phobic? *gasp*

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

One hit wonder

There are those men, my word, that are just perfect.

You meet them in a club/pub/restaurant/get together/whatever and you just have such good chemistry that it seems the night should never end and when it does…he asks for your number *insert insanely happy girly dance here (behind his back, of course)*.

Then it gets better, he texts. Even over the phone he has you actually laughing and not just LOLing (with a straight face), and all at once…it stops. That’s it. You never hear from him again. And if you do cave in and message him first (I have a no messaging first policy, but hey shit happens) he is as excited as a lamp post with no light… I name him the one hit wonder.

Guys? Seriously! What is that about?

I’ve entered the land of the ever more confused. As if this dating business wasn’t confusing enough already. moo2