GOSSIP GIRLS – YOU KNOW YOU LOVE IT XOXO

The movie ‘Cruel Intentions’ introduced children of the nineties to a sordid type of human; one that is self seeking, sexually driven and unashamedly envious of any and all competition; this repulsive type of person is quite reminiscent of today’s female. Interested in success, envious of other women, a stumbling block to themselves and sadly, sometimes also to their friends. In this movie, they said ‘keep your friends close and your enemies even closer,” and we do.

This week I was chatting to a friend about how much easier it is to be nice to people, how much less energy is exerted when you smile rather than snob off someone and how if everyone embraced this attitude, we’d live in a much more harmonious world. Her response illuminated another perspective, that being nice to everyone was fake, was two-faced and too one dimensional. If nobody spoke their mind, everyone would be nice, nice was boring and therefore nobody would be making headlines and we’d have nothing to gossip about and nobody to make us feel superior over other ruder beings. She had a point.

Painful as it is to admit, women love to have a bit of a gossip. We are leeches to any information that will expose weaknesses of another person and although we all participate (and I’ll admit I gossip too) – the practice itself is disgusting and destructive – not just to the person’s self esteem but also to ourselves as supreme beings. We stoop and become the enemy, thriving off the exclusive access to information that we have.

Women follow a pattern in such situations. They will fake a smile to the girl they are judging, cling tight to the girl dispensing the gossip and at an opportunity to socially climb we will wisely dispense that information to another, for access to a new friendship, to fill time, sometimes consciously, other times just because, more often than not it is rarely justifiably…or is it.

Before I chastised everyone who shares in my crimes, I searched to understand the psychology behind it….and in the process found an answer that suited me.

Nigel Nicholson, Ph.D pins gossip down to evolution and our natural instincts to survive in the animal kingdom. He explains that there are two sides to every story (der!) and with gossip there is the heart warming emotions linked with the forming alliances and finding belonging within a social circle, the second is that gut-wrenching rage when we are placed on the receiving end of the gossip, realizing that we will be damaged in some way through this means.

Nicholson claims that we are evolved to talk.  That makes sense I thought, after all, Eve was created as a companion for Adam and as such, since the start of creationism, two were always better than one. Two could not form a pair however if they were mismatched and this is why we network; to find like minded people who share our loves and hates and in doing so form exclusive cliques that keep out  the outsider. Once the outsider is spotted we influence each other’s decisions to maintain our standing within a group and in doing so form alliances that protect us from the scorn of our friends.

The dark side to this is that by gossiping we exclude others, we are more likely to be gossiped about and as we fuel the fire, many get burnt (think the late Princess Diana and the paparazzi’s fatal pursuit of her private life…of gossip).

However, the often paralleled pursuit of Kate Middleton may have led her to the altar today. As the gossipy tabloids labeled the Princess-to-be, Waity Katie, Kate was reminded of her worth and demanded of Will, that she wait no more…and that’s the thing about gossip…. as toxic as it is, it somehow, it acts as a code of ethics; reminding us of what is acceptable and what is condemned and gives us an option to choose to wear our halos, horns…or Sapphire engagement rings.

And just before my male audience, label us women venomous and vile, my trainer revealed this morning that you men do it too. You just disguise and re-label it. As he chatted to me about who was sleeping with who at the gym and which men was an accessory to two affairs, one formerly attractive man, became the elephant in the room and in gossiping I was spared from scandal.

My trainer revealed that while we call it gossip, men call it character assessment.

Call it what you will, I thought…gossip is gossip and according to Nicholson, essential to survival. Armed with the knowledge that gossip is innate, I will work to only positively analyse people, to be inclusive (not just to people like me), and will try to keep my friends close and make friends out of frenemies......right after girls’ night tonight and the necessary gossip we’ll have.

No More Mr Nice Guy....or is there?

It’s a question too often pondered among women; where have all the good guys gone? It’s easy to generalise and to categorize the chivalrous with the dead but for fear of becoming cynical before my time or generation; I thought this week’s mission was to search for Mr Nice guy and to document his good deeds.

My first shock encounter came in the kitchen at the office. After having just celebrated a colleague’s birthday in the boardroom, one other male colleague had taken all the dirty glasses to the kitchen and cleaned up the area because he couldn’t stand to leave it for the cleaner. His exact words were “the cleaner, didn’t get to enjoy the party, so why should he have to clean up after us.” I was awe-struck by his sensitivity, his modesty and the empathy he had for a complete stranger. This man did not parade his good deeds nor act in pursuit of praise; he acted with kindness simply because it was kind to do so.

This same person made it very easy to write this blog and continue finding material. On a day I had the chance to work next to him, I saw a consideration for all of his colleagues; unlike kindness I’d ever seen before. One girl was hungry so he went down and bought her food without her asking. Another was about to embark on a long road trip, he gave her nibblies to prevent the munchies on her way and another, he gave bars for her children to eat, keeping nothing for himself. Kindness was instinctive, automatic and agenda-free. I was starting to feel very inferior by comparison.

This lesson was not just demonstrating that kindness existed but that in fact, the good I saw far outweighed any good that I had shown.

But wait there was more (writing infomercials is getting to me).

Rather than set my sights singularly on one man, I opened the window to let in all mankind – they didn’t all make it through the narrow gate but, when judgement day came, I was happy to pass and fail some. Preferring to remain optimistic about the good I didn’t know and the greatness I’d one day meet, this was a reminder to me and all like me to believe in better because better was out there and is sometimes staring you in the face.

His peer proved an equal saviour; correcting my errors on a day I was put on trial in a new position. Without making a complaint, making a point of proving my incompetence or gratifying a want to prove he was better, he was heroic in that in his attempt to right my wrong, I was not cockily corrected, just kindly shown how to improve; he was courteous and considerate .

While at the gym this week, I was in cycle class and through the sound-system blasted, Bonnie Tyler’s ‘Holding out for a hero,” but this week as I pushed on through spin, I realised I had nothing to spin on the good deeds I’d seen.

Tyler in her ballad for all of woman-kind, cried;

Where have all good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?

Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and turn and I dream of what I need

….but this week my sleep was uninterrupted, because I had an answer to rival Tyler’s rant. This week I learnt, the good men are still around, are exceptionally better than me when I give myself a chance to notice and though they’re yet to win my heart, they’re hearts proved a credit to their gender (or upbringing). For now, just knowing the good ones exist, is all the hope we need and that hope is timely too….there’s a royal wedding imminent.

Single, taken then dead for catching the grenade.

We all know that Bruno Mars song and every one who has loved swears to being the victim of relationships past. We are single, we are taken, we are taken by love, we give our all, and we end up broken. Love always hurts if you let it and if you don’t.

The hurt that the young girl in my story knew this time around was not love, it was delusion. For a moment, she was single, was taken by a man’s charm and was shell-shocked when the truth about  his character detonated in her face. The news exploded into her world and her faith in someone she once cared for was shattered. She was not entirely the victim this time though, because I believe that in love there are three central themes upon which the success of a relationship depends; choice, chance and change. In making the choice to give someone a second chance while expecting them to have changed, she was at first unlucky, but the second time was a fool.

This is how the tale unfolded. Once upon a time, there was a young girl; naïve and with a heart wide-open. She fell for a thief masked as a prince and had her naivety stolen from her. For years she had focused on finding a prince and one day, just as she planned, the prince had found her. It was a fairytale. She made a choice to trust him because chance had brought him in her life and her earnest hope was that life thereafter would blissfully change. What changed however was his attitude towards her. Afraid of commitment and embroiled in scandal, he sought sex appeal over sincerity, many women over one, freedom to be a boy over assumption of a predestined role to become a man. Very quickly the fairytale failed the young girl who thought love came once and without difficulty or heartbreak. She was blissfully ignorant till he came along and while first time around she mourned the loss of him, the young man continued to live happily ever after. This is not one for the kids.

The second time around the man returned; changed, seemingly reformed with new charms and greater sincerity. It appeared his former mask was removed. He had new things to offer so the young girl with an open heart, let him in again (because it seems they hadn’t sufficiently hurt each other enough the first time). Flaws in his new plan to court her surfaced as each line came without promise, each compliment came with a catch, each good deed was overshadowed by a bad one and then the final straw…he was seeing someone else while MAN-ipulating the young girl’s heart. Shame on him for tricking her once but shame on her for allowing him to trick her twice!

Sound familiar? Good girl meets bad boy, bad boy leaves good girl ,bad boy moves on to break more hearts, bad boy occasionally returns to validate his ego and confirm to himself that if he wanted the good girl, he could have her. Bad boy needs a naughty corner.

The sad truth is, the good girl will always compromise for the chance at love. In keeping with the self-sacrificing Bruno Mars theme, another song I was listening to of his was called ‘The Other Side.” Great song!  It was all about a straight-laced girl falling for a shady boy and all she had to do was make the choice to cross the road and submit to his debauchery. Life, lust and a chance of love were all choices that the girl had to make but if she dared cross the road, there was no guarantee of exclusivity or of a happily ever after.

At long last, an answer I thought – all things ‘relationship’ before finding love are about making choices when chance encounters tempt you. Expecting change is the error that most good girls will make when faced with the chance to choose. What we all know is that a leopard never changes its spots, so we mustn't expect it to. While animal print is always alluring, it is only a seasonal trend.

Armed with the experience of the choice/chance/change effect, the little girl in this fairytale made a new choice. She decided she’d give no more chances to those that needed to change. She'd no longer expect a change in others but would make changes in herself and the choices she made. She admitted that the prince she once knew was just a thief in a prince’s clothing. She didn't try to change him but choosing to believe that he could have and giving him a second chance is a choice she'd change if given another chance. Ignorance may have been blissful in her adolescence but knowledge this time around was power.

After being single, after momentarily allowing herself to be taken by a bad boy, she knew that this bombshell was a lesson to not toy with explosives. She’d leave heroics for the boys she’d meet in the future and just like that, she emerged a hero. She may have been single again, but this time she was better for it.

International Cougar Week - Little boys beware

In case you hadn’t heard, it’s International Cougar Week and that means a calling for the Demi Moore’s, the Goldie Hawn’s and the Susan Sarandon’s of the world to take out their predatory claws and allow them to grip onto their willing younger prey. Only twenty two but already considering the merits of being one if I’m still single at thirty, upon observing the successful women around me, I see the merits in women allowing themselves to be taken by their toy boys.

Demi Moore married husband Ashton Kutcher, fifteen years her junior (that’s a little too much for me), in 2005. A whole six years ago and their marriage is still stronger than ever. The reason? I credit it to inferiority complexes among men and their constant desire to prove their manhood.

A man will step up and make an honest woman out of his partner if and when he a) wants to keep her as his own and b) recognises her superiority and knows that if he is slow to act, another will take her. There’s a great line that Ashton Kutcher funnily enough says to Jessica Alba in the movie, ‘Valentine’s Day.’ He says in his proposal, “my father told me that when you meet the girl that’s better than you, marry her.” Life imitated art when he found, fell in love with and married Hollywood dazzler Demi Moore, better than him and now married to him.

Mariah Carey is expecting twins from her boy toy anytime this month. With a vocal range as broad as Mariah’s you’d hate to get into trouble in that household – it’s no wonder Nick Cave is quietly satisfied.

Perhaps the power anthem “I am woman hear me roar” had subtext of female’s being the one’s who court men, of women powering through predefined gender roles and using their prowess to court and conquer hearts; younger more obedient, more giving, less complex men.  

Since Stifler’s mum in American pie we learnt the power of a semi-attractive woman over the growth of a young boy. This is to Sir with Love but reversed – To Madam with lust if you will. “How do you thank someone, who has taken you from crayons to perfume?” What you give in return is commitment, gratitude…or better yet, servitude.

Fountains of Wayne flowed their love and admiration for “Stacey’s mom (who had) it going on” in the 90’s and called upon their carnal desires to be satiated by a cougar.

I remember when I was younger an old friend was enamoured by an older, mutual friend of ours. I never understood it being the younger more attractive one. Now I do. It was forbidden therefore it was desirable. I wonder if cougars became more available would they then become less appealing?

When Mark Philippoussis starred in the reality hit series- “Age of Love”  he was given the option of love with a forty something year old woman or with a twenty something year old. The twenty something cheerleader ultimately won but he seemed genuinely conflicted in making his choice. The show featured ten forty something year old women who competed with ten twenty-something year old women for “The Poos” affection. All were open to falling in love with him. The Poo explained their appeal (many men share this sentiment) - that they know what they want, they go after it, they are more confident with themselves and therefore are more assertive in the relationship – it is love without complexity (I didn’t know that even existed).

The answer then I guess was not in seeking love in a younger male, was not in contributing to the cougar convention, was not about wearing the pants or having a man that acquiesced to all of your demands. It appears that the secret to a successful relationship was a combination of honesty and confidence not age and power play.

Too young to become a cougar and with little need to venture into that arena just yet, I take comfort in the fact that men will want me when I’m old and that I can still have their desirable qualities without the wrinkles in my youth. When love is found, the wrinkles won’t matter because it all looks the same in the dark but if you’re a cougar, you’ll have a toy boy who’ll look good in daylight too; perfect as long as people don’t mistake you for his mum.

Beauty and Booty - In the eye of the beholder

Everyone’s a little bit of a pervert – few will admit it but all partake in it because most of us are visual creatures happy to analyse, attract or aspire to look like the aesthetically supreme beings that fill this great earth. This week I wondered if there was more to a stare than just the instant thrill of feeling attractive?

My job this week was not to judge the perverts around me but rather to character analyse their gaze. This was inspired by a recent ploy of two New Zealander girls living in the United States. These actresses and models, conscious of the attention they attracted sought to see what no eye could but every woman’s eye desires – their rear view. By discreetly placing a hidden camera in their denim back pocket, they captured those enraptured by their bottoms. (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1357939/Girls-install-camera-jeans-catch-men-ogling-bottoms-LA.html)

These women were already attractive – models even so I imagined they’d have no junk in their trunk but that didn’t stop men from oggling and the rest of the world from Googling and hitting up YouTube for a bootycall.

Without the technological means/ desire to play butt camera-dominos – I spent this week looking at the way men look at women and I guess became a pervert in the process (I suffer for my art).

This was my hall pass if you wish to look at men looking at me looking at them and looking at others. If eyes are the window to the soul then this week’s assignment was not about perversion it was about soul-searching. I learnt a thing or two.

Where else to start but public transport…

The learned game player – this man reads on the train, with full knowledge that every woman appreciates a literary man. He skim reads each page, I wonder if there’s any text in it like this new bestseller labelled “What Every Man Thinks About Apart From Sex”. The book has a cover and then is filled with 200 blank pages, outselling ‘Harry Potter’ and ‘The DaVinci Code’. This book has soared in sales, reaching number 744 on the Amazon bestseller list and retails at an affordable $7.95. It’s a cheap thrill, but cheaper than $7.95 is staring at a passersby for FREE!!!

 With each turn of the page he glances up to see women biting their lips, flicking their hair, curious about this Mr.Darcy and wondering if they can be his Emma Woodhouse. Suddenly every woman in the carriage is Jane Austen writing their future in her head. This boy does read, he reads women and with each flick of the page he glances over to a different woman – a place to rest his tired eyes from all of that intense concentration.

Lesson 1 # Women in suits like men with books. Boys pick a book, ANY book and guarantee yourself a look!

 Next is the predator – not in a criminal way, this man is just the king of his jungle. With precision and prowess he circles his prey, maintaining a watchful eye. The woman blushes a little but is first to look away, this is the first indication that she is yielding to his power, alternatively, she was well taught in the school of etiquette and gets that it’s rude to stare – but if she chose to, she’d have great reason to - this man is quite the looker, tall, dark, handsome AND in a suit in the CBD – oddly he just stares and circles.

You may bump into this fella a few times, he floats wherever single ladies flock, he plays his game well and certainly has your attention, and the only problem is you only have his attention for a fleeting second. He craves more than just your cushy tush.

Lesson 2 # Ladies beware of the predator, he looks to fill his own desire, an egotistical ploy to assert his reign over your kingdom but he is always looking for the next big thing…that means, like all women, to him you are just a phase, so be UNPHASED by his fleeting flirtation.

Next up is the feely pervert. He leans on your hand as you hold the railing; he ‘accidentally’ puts a hand over yours as you grab the nearest pole to avoid falling. Any excuse for a chat. The girl I’m looking at seems a little hot and flustered. He uses this discomfort to his advantage. “Life can’t be that bad” he sympathises. She half-smiles, unsure whether to succumb to his charm(or lack of from where I’m sitting) or shove him off. He looks a little defeated. The whole train is watching - me included.

As pitiful as I find his ploy, their’s merit in all of these people’s efforts to catch the gaze of the opposite sex. It’s been said that ‘you’re nobody till somebody loves you,’ so maybe amidst the shy flirtation, the half-smiles, the literary pursuits and the blatant stares, are people looking for purpose. The suit does not make the man as far as I could see, it’s more the woman suited to him that does.

Core shakers, rattling romance and searching for a soul-mate.

From birth we are attracted to things that shake us – we are given rattle toys and we are bemused by the ease with which they shake and the noises they produce – the novelty wears out and then we transition to music shaking our hips rather than our rattle toys, we may thrive off the adrenalin rush of roller-coasters or allow ourselves to be shaken and stirred by dodgem cars or go carts - we sometimes leave with battle scars, but we almost always come back to be shaken again. As we grow up, we allow ourselves to be shaken in many forms, sometimes by worldly tragedies, sometimes because we’re premenstrual and other times (and our favourite kind) we are simply shaken by love. We’re always searching for the next big thing to move us because we are addicted to the feeling.

This week, I’m surrounded by love, observant of lust and curious about soul-mates. Are we capable of falling in love at first sight or seeing past the lust to feel core-shakingly connected to someone or is love a one-off occurrence that can only be known through shared experience and the growth that comes from that? 

I was at my friend’s engagement party last week and both saw love and in a separate instance reflected on the absence of it with old friends who had new things in common with me. My friend who got engaged looked radiant and you could both see and feel the love shared between both fiancées. My friend, in love was angelic, after meeting the man that moved her heart, she was inspired to become her greatest self.  She stepped up and brought heaven down to earth for her new love. Without divulging too much of their private life, I can say that qualities I knew existed in her were never put to the test until love knocked at her heart’s door and toed the doorframe  and saw her selflessly, unreservedly allow love in. She became more loving in the process of giving it. She had found her soul-mate.  Others in her situation may have run away for fear of being hurt.  Some may have tested the waters but found it too bitter to digest. She however dived headfirst into cinematic romance, with the full knowledge that this love would shake her. It struck me that this was what finding a soul-mate was about, accepting a love that not only connects to your soul but moves it, after which you can never be the same as you once were. You can only be better. 

A dilemma amongst the rest of us was how one rids of misconceptions of love to be sure of taking the risk with ‘The One.’  I’m told it’s an overwhelming feeling. I’m told that when he comes you ‘just know’ and until then you just know that everyone else is not-the-one; that answer for someone who has not experienced it is the most infuriatingly vague and unfathomable response possible.  Such a response is even worse for friends who have once been burned and are now too fragile in their rehabilitation to grasp the idea of playing with fire without a rulebook and a fail proof plan. In hope of encouraging risk-taking, I’m going to attempt to explain what every woman is searching for so we stop wasting time with those who fall short.

For most of us, it begins with a smile. It intrigues us as it is the first seeming act of sincerity and unashamed display of weakness to us. It is complimented with kindness, best seen through his stare. The way he gazes at you is very telling of where his mind is and when his eyes distractedly look away, you have permission to disgustedly lose heart. A dialogue begins and while his words are important his actions are the most telling of his ‘manhood.’ 

Many can speak. 

Few can deliver. 

We love-longing females learn this lesson time and time again. The clock ticks and it’s as if no time has passed at all. He feels the same. We’re shaken and stirred– and that’s just infatuation!

Dates continue, secrets are shared and his loyalty is tested. Then the drama begins as you jump through hoops to please each other, as you fight for your love and prove it is worth fighting for and that is when you really know. 

He may be kind, he may be giving, he may be honest even when it hurts but amidst the fighting and throughout the tears do you always believe that to him you are exceptional and supreme?

Oscar Wilde said “never love anyone who treats you like you’re ordinary.” He knew a thing or two about life and love. Finding your soul-mate is extraordinary, miraculous even, so while it may mean you know from a feeling, you also know from experience. 

You’ll experience a new rattling that you celebrate with child-like exaltation – it is innocent yet mature, trusting and responsible yet freeing at the same time. It is a heavy load that somehow makes you feel light and it is more honest and kind than you’ve ever been to yourself. It is liberating yet protective and almost effortlessly puts a smile on your face, even when it stirs you.  When you are in it and feeling tidal movements of your heart, ultimately, it is that feeling that will extraordinarily shape you. Then you’ll know you found your soul-mate and your search for the next distracting rattle toy will be over.

Recycling men and coats

Last week Myer and David Jones launched their autumn/winter collections to fashionable A listers across the nation. The frenzy got me thinking about seasons and how some things are only meant to last a little while before we are forced to wake up and smell the roses (or be pricked by the thorns).

The Morning Show aired a segment where gossip columnist Shelly Horton, interviewed guests at the Myer fashion show on fashion faux pas – the do nots and the please-don’t-mentions of fashion mistakes from today’s fashionstas. The segment had me wondering, what other forgotten trends did we wish to keep buried in our closets or to donate to someone else.

If one man’s trash was another man’s treasure, was giving old loves the boot an act of kindness and goodwill to the universe or was it a blunder on our end for not keeping something that may be valuable in the future? When is foresight an investment and when is it delusion?

As I started thinking of fashion trends for autumn/winter, I was surrounded by friends with relationships reaching the end of their season and that’s when fashion met relationship. While retail therapy is always in order, at a less superficial level, I wondered about how many couples nakedly reveal the truth in their relationships, how much truth can a relationship handle and does the removal of our cool (mostly fashionable) exteriors bring chilling change to a couple that moves them from summer loving to an autumnal period where leaves fall and are eventually replaced with new ones?

One friend took the end of her relationship to be an investment; like a Burberry trench – the end of her relationship meant the shedding of girly trend-pieces and the start of classic-cuts. These cuts would hold her better than her last trench, support her shape as she grew in her new career and hopefully (for what you pay for a Burberry coat) would last a lifetime.

It’s trench warfare! Except on this battlefield, new wars (sometimes just as mental battles) begin with each season because every weather change sheds new light, forces us to rid of old trends (sometimes the enemy) and if we're wise, inspires positive changes towards new changes that fit better.

My other friend told me about facades that both she and her partner were wearing for a period of time. They were both wearing the same coat: the we-are-fighting-but-smiling-through-it-and-maybe-if-we-fake-it-long-enough-we’ll-convince-ourselves-we’re-ok coat. A passive rage was building between them and an inferno of contempt for each others neglect made the coat too hot to handle – it had to come off. With a step away from a fad that had long phased them, a little distance and a new perspective made the coat look ugly and unwearable. Time to donate the coat to the needier or the less fortunate (however you choose to see it).

This is where curiosity stepped in about trash and treasure. If everyone was ditching an old love, this would set new people into the single-sphere and men and women alike would have a few more options to choose from. Sometimes antique is attractive, vintage always seems to travel back into our wardrobes but others find no substitute for what is shiny and new.

If new is better then we’re all screwed, because everyone is an old love of someone else. What is good about what is old is that it is also matured, experienced and every season it’s given a fresh spin.

My love and fashion lesson suddenly took a turn I wasn’t expecting it to – I learnt that everything comes to an end, that what we learn from each relationship is similar to what we learn from a fashion faux pas – what not to do again...but when we recycle that knowledge we learn what we should do, then new coats look better, feel better and eventually become trans-seasonal and among the recycled, we might find a classic piece worth keeping.