Gendercide and a girl’s right to fight.

There’s a real problem in the world when a lawyer and a human rights campaigner believes the only viable option for attention and for action is a hunger strike for 28 days.

That problem is worsened when the world refuses to be an audience to the action, where passivity is preferred over action, where Kardashian is the word first spoken and a name like Nasrin Sotoudeh’s isn’t last, it’s unheard of.

On Monday, a collective of Iranian-Australians from the Free Iran Project joined in peaceful protest outside parliament house to bring the plight of Narin Sotoudeh to our attention and despite their efforts and the worthiness of the cause, few will listen. Most won’t even know about it.

But you will.

You’ll hear about how Nasrin was arrested on the 4^th of September 2010 for ‘spreading propaganda’ and for ‘conspiring to harm state security’ (meaning she refused to live in a world that impeded on her civil right to an education, to an opinion, to exist self-sufficiently and to challenge authority). This awarded her 11 years in prison and   a 20 year ban on her legal practice and foreign travel. Muted, molested and detained…all necessary precautions I’m sure to silence and still a national ‘threat.’

How threatening she is, to want to educate the women of her nation. How frightful it must be to a nation run by men, for a woman to have a thought beyond her domestic sphere. How destabilising and disrespectful to the ‘natural order’ to have a woman seek progression beyond her potato peeler.

Although Nasrin’s sentence was reduced from 6 years to 11, and the ban on her legal practice was halved, Nasrin has spent over 100 days in solitary confinement during her time in prison.

Broken but not defeated, Nasrin’s resistance had both her husband and children placed under strict governmental watch. They can’t travel. They can’t visit. Her two children are motherless because of her fight for freedom.

Nasrin reportedly wrote to her children saying, “ I know that you require water, food, housing, a family, parents, love, and visits with your mother," she empathised, but "just as much, you need freedom, social security, the rule of law, and justice." She is a revolutionary but without the world’s attention, her fight is futile.

She lives by faith everyday with a fervent belief in the bettering of a nation that has ostracized her and demonized her thoughts but she perseveres knowing that living by faith includes the call to something far greater than the very human, and very common but (comparatively) cowardly goal of self-preservation.

Iran more than funding, and even more than food if Nasrin’s hunger strike is anything to go by, needs political reforms where power shifts from the Ayatollah and onto the democratically elected representatives. These representatives need recognition of their mothers, sisters, aunts, grandmothers as equals, as humans and as deserving of civil freedoms that we take for granted.

It’s so easy to create an “us and them” in a nation with no reverence to the opposition (women).  It’s easier still for a man to call himself such, when fighting with a woman, but genitalia should not give the illusion of strength or superiority. It’s so easy to deflect attention from your own shortcomings by pointing the finger elsewhere or silencing her and placing her in prison. 


Winning the Sakhorov Prize for ‘Freedom of Thought’ with film maker Jafar Panahi, Iran has shown Nasrin that her castle is also her prison.

The fight for human rights should mean freedom .

They should never mean the right to shoot 14 year old Malala Yousafzai. The irony and the hope is that her wounds will also be her healers. Ignorance bred violence. Education would ideally mean peace.

Education would have prevented Mohammad Zafar and his wife Zaheen from pouring acid over their daughter’s body and murdering her for simply glancing at a boy.

This is more than just a Pakistani issue. It is bigger than Iran. It is not religion. It is not faithful. It is ignorant and just as we shake our heads at global atrocities, just as we cry foul at the denial of civil rights, we too need a reeducation. We too need a global conscience. We too need to speak up for every mother that can’t see her child.

For every child that will be subjected to the enslavement of the Middle East’s archaic governments, we should speak up.

For every mother who is removed from her child and like Nasrin, abused, tortured and exiled for her belief in human rights, we should speak up.

For every honour killing.

For every beating.

For every child-bride.

For Nasrin.

We should speak up.

Gentlemen and the Gym.

I read this great article in the Sydney Morning Herald about women’s fear of entering the weights section of a gym (you can read it here http://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/diet-and-fitness/blogs/chew-on-this/gender-and-the-gym-20120827-24w32.html).  It detailed how for no real reason the gym tends to split its’ space into a female/male division as if to say, women shouldn’t be near weights. Bollocks!

The journalist who wrote the article, Paula Goodyer, admitted to going to the same gym for a decade before getting the strength to walk over to the weights. It’s ironic that she needed strength to go where strength is built.

I will admit I too had this same trepidation about treading where testosterone dominated… and then I joined Crossfit, where the only way to look like  this is to get amongst it and GET LIFTING.

Anyone who knows me knows how absolutely besotted I am with this training and if you don’t know about it, let me tell you, it gets ugly! I simultaneously look my worst while feeling my best every day that I do it. I never would have believed that I would unmask myself and expose that vulnerability to a room full of shirtless men if anyone had told me I would a year ago. It is truly one of the most freeing things I have ever experienced.

In my previous life, my insecurities would have me run to a dressing room before I even contemplated a dead lift, I’d sooner die than part ways with my eyeliner and I’d bury my pride in cosmetics before attempting a bench press - until I finally got to experience what it meant to be a part of this great team, to be encouraged by some pretty fabulous and fun-loving men and to work out in an environment that harnessed growth rather than stifled it with judgement.

The first time we were given a team workout to complete, my heart sank. I knew I’d be letting the team down. I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t fit enough and the fittest guy in the room was going to be frustrated by my deficiencies. Not so.

He encouraged. He cheered. He was even impressed at how hard I was trying. There was no judgement. There was no condescension, only camaraderie and respect. He gained mine that day too.

Stepping into a Crossfit gym meant my ego was left at the door but all other team members had to do the same and that’s the thing about jumping in with the boys - we all become equals; united in shared struggle and nobody sees gender.

I know it’s an admission that most women will hate and maybe judge me for but many of us love to be validated by a man’s attention. Yes, we should hold our own. Yes, we should have the personal strength, self-belief and security that we never need a compliment but unlike you (who are obviously very intelligent and sophisticated and friendly and attractive and perfect), I like to be told on occasion (particularly when out of my comfort zone or working hard) that I’m doing great or doing the right thing. That’s where the fun and fabulousness of mixing with the macho men of a gym comes in.

When I’m done with a workout, there’s usually a boy who will offer to pack my weights away (they may not do this at home but the gym is a domain where they like to flex their domestic muscles and occasionally I’ll let them and enjoy it). When I’m too puffed out to run another metre, there’s a male cheer squad telling you to keep treading the road less travelled. This is a huge perk.When you’re on your last round of repetitions and the uber fit and super-hot and occasionally shirtless tell you that you can do what you thought you couldn’t – you’re doing that rep dammit!

Great friendships have been formed amidst weight plates where I work-out. Amidst our struggle while I sweat enough to end a drought, while my frizzy hair channels Diana Ross’, while my heart beats so fast I can barely breathe and while my cheeks are a lovely shade of beetroot, somehow I still feel beautiful, confident and strong and since it’s neither cosmetics or clothing that inspire this, I’d have to put it down to the people that surround me and that make the place a platform for my best self to step forward. Thank you ladies AND gentlemen.

While I’m first to say I can’t when someone is doing a handstand pushup, a pull up or a range of other movements, what I’ve learnt and what both the men and women around me have taught me is that there isn’t a thing a woman can’t do unless she says she can’t and at my gym there isn’t a man who would (or should) dare stop her.

One of our coaches is thinking to tell the men that sign up to the gym that he’ll in fact “make a woman out of them” (his words not mine). He says this because he believes women are far stronger than men and that it’s the men that could do with a lesson or two from us – he knows what he’s on about and it’s time you realized it too.

Real life has both men and women walking similar paths with only a few small differences. The gym is a microcosm of that. People overcoming tribulation. Together but alone (in that it still requires you to give it all you’ve got to pull yourself through).

While you’re worried about sweating in front of them – when they see it, it somehow earns you their respect.

While you’re worried about not being in your best outfit – they’re more interested in the body you have without clothes.

While you’re worried about that bit of fat wobbling and warding them off, they’re thinking how strong you are to do something to get rid of it.

The quickest route to confidence is in knowing how to do something. The only way to know is if you try. The only way to try is to step out of your comfort zone and before you know it, that comfort zone will be redefined and will have a few fit bodies strengthening that foundation.

Is Love Ever Enough…

The titling of this blog is already wrong. You see, I’d never grab pompoms and cheer on the side of love and blissful ignorance. As idealistic as I may be, I’ve never believed that love alone would be enough to sustain a relationship – but recently I’ve been forced to see differently. Bring it I say.

The rule books have been thrown out of the window, women are courting, sleeping around, dating and loving like men and men are relishing it – or are they?

I have a friend who has been positively whipped by the woman in his life. He used to have a long list of essential criterion to qualify a woman into his heart, his psyche, his love bed. Then he met lady love, let’s call her, Lolita. Lolita is a 21^st century woman, forward thinking, flirtatious, in control of her sexuality, beautiful, career focused and in a word, fabulous. She was also besotted with my friend. His love duly followed.

It was only a matter of time that love would strike his seemingly asexual, unfeeling heart. I know that sounds harsh, but he always struck me as the man that would flirt with the idea of love but never fall in love, he was a little bit too in love with himself to let anyone else in. As a friend, his vanity was hilarious, his transformation was even funnier (shocking and stupefying too).

 She no longer needed equal proportions in breasts and booty, she no longer needed a chopping board for abs, she didn’t need a manicure, she didn’t need a degree, she just needed to love him, as he was. She was “just a girl, looking at a boy, asking him to love her,” (thank you Notting Hill). He did.

I’ve often argued that we need to be complete to be our best selves in our relationships, so we’re not too reliant, not too needy, not high maintenance and ultimately not going to lose a guy in ten dates or less. (I never got that movie, why would anyone want to lose Matthew McConaughey if they had the chance to have him at all)? Anyway, I’ve always thought that we did our best to be complete so the flashing ‘vacant’ signs on our foreheads didn’t wreak of desperation and emptiness….then I was challenged to think differently.

Another (worse written relationship blog so don’t go searching for it) said that perhaps we had to be vulnerable to find love because that was when we were most likely to allow our figuratively naked selves out. Only then would we subject ourselves to the hurt, the heartache, the hysteria and the hyperboles of love.

My mate has completely mellowed, he’s been stripped of his bravado (*except when speaking about how he would protect her, in which case he is a stoic handsome , muscular Greek godlike soldier on a white horse – he  practically becomes Old Spice guy). Feminists please do not go comment crazy, speaking about how women do not need to be rescued. They certainly don’t. This is not a fairytale but if I’m going to be in a relationship I want to know that my man is a man who can pull his weight ,uplift me when I’m down and tell me I’m beautiful daily (or else what’s the point – I’ll make exceptions for the latter point…maybe).

The above was true for my mate. His heart was incomplete until completed by his woman and in having her love him, warts and all, he found happiness incomparable to anything he had experienced. He was thankful that of all the toads in all the town, she'd chosen him to be hers. He felt like a prince and placed her high above himself. She rescued his heart. Love was enough.

The same is true of another friend of mine. She is busily planning a wedding. She is a woman who has dreamt of her big day from the womb. She even dreamt this fiancée up and weeks later he manifested – something is to be said of her clairvoyant abilities but we’ll get to that later. I asked if she could dream me up partner but her premonitions weren’t working that day (of course). Wedding planning is when the cookie cut relationship crumbles for many. Church or no church – white dress – red dress – reception – honeymoon – bridesmaids – dresses – flower girls – guests – invitations – bombonierres – the list is so long (and so well-rehearsed you’d think I’d done this before) and so tedious to work through that it’s bound to burst a few dream bubbles and potentially erupt into emotional lava that spills, boils, bubbles and destroys you dream day. Not so for my friend. In her blissful bridal mental waltz, she is happily dancing around her fiancée’s requests for a chance at true love. I think they call this compromise. Her level of compromise grew proportionately to the love she felt and the love she was given.

The man made the wait worth it. She is in love and at the moment it suffices. It is everything. It is all that matters. He filled her in a way she couldn't ask because before him, this love was unquantifiable and she was thankful for him and she would do her utmost to keep this joy (and this boy).

Love is so profound and when we have it we want to believe that that version of love is the greatest we can give and be given. Love needs to be enough because we invest so much of ourselves into it that for it not to be enough is an assault on our uninhibited expression of it. Charles Dickens said “men want to believe they are the first person to have ever loved their woman,” maybe even when we’ve dated others, you can be the first men to love us in the way that you do. Dickens continued to say “women want to be a man’s last romance,” easily fixed with a ring or a promise to commit. If all we are seeking is companionship and exclusivity, maybe love is all we need to complete us and then all of our petty criteria becomes just that…petty.

High Maintenance Men

A lite half soy, half skim, decaf caramel Cappuccino is on the menu and it hasn’t been ordered by your girlfriend…

Your wannabe David Gandy in his chinos, leather lofas and Ralph Lauren shirt has a little bit of a problem and his problems are becoming yours.

(This is David Gandy in case you have been living under a rock)

I’m fine with compromise (especially if you are David Gandy and staring at me like that) – it’s essential to any relationship, and my shameful subservient admission is that I actually love Destiny’s Child’s song “Cater to you” because I adore the concept of giving yourself so completely and wholeheartedly to the person you love (insert feminist bra-burning uprising here). I play it on repeat as I drive around the burbs believing I'm Beyonce. Just like Beyonce, I think it's o.k for Girls  to "run the world" while 'catering to you' and telling "nasty to put some clothes on." I think it’s o.k to be feminist and to love and since love is giving, it’s also o.k to do the washing, iron the shirts and cook for him  (provided he shares the load in equal or greater proportions than me). I think you’d love your man even more for valuing your equality which would mean a greater willingness to do more for him. All feminism is, is an admission that women are humans too. Sorted and a little bit off track.

But what of our actual roles in relationships?

How do you take to a whiney male? Not to say that women are whiney but perhaps to say, it’s more o.k for women to nag than for men to. Yep, that's exactly what I'm saying.  

When I think of the man that I want – I envision a man, not a baby who I have to burp and breastfeed. Sorry for the visual. I hate poo so I don’t want to be elbow deep in his. Again – happy to carry the load but I’d rather a man who can carry himself and carry me in the process. Isn’t that the whole idea of being with one; that they can support you, protect you, be that backbone you need when YOU feel weakness?

I know what the Germaine Greer’s of you are thinking. Why are women painted as weak? We can hold our own, we can manage without men and if we are equals then we don’t need rescuing etc…and you’d be right. Congratulations, we have the same thought process. Smart minds think alike (it must also be because we are female and amazing).

HOWEVER…. in a relationship, I only want what is better than what I already have and if it is not better and it is not enhancing my life in any way, then I simply do not need it and will ask to be excused while I examine the room for the nearest Exit.

I’m always told relationships are more work than fun but I want my work to be like Richard Branson’s or Oprah’s – fun, thrilling, adrenalin-charged and while sometimes exhausting, it should always be rewarding.

So what happens when you’ve been seeing someone and while they are wonderful in many areas, their insecurity is all that is ever projected onto you?

If you’ve just started seeing someone, are you expected to uplift them right away in one month of positive adjective filled conversations about how much you love them and how they’re enough when you don’t really even know them yet?  I think this is the reason that I’ve always argued that you should feel complete as a person before entering a relationship so you’re not constantly projecting the same negativity repeatedly onto the person. Be ying and yang, be Ren and Stimpy, Be Beavis and Buthead for all I care, just be enough for yourself so you don’t seem less than that to your partner.

I know this post is hypocritical of me because I’m a sucker for both praise and attention. I love attention so much that I imagine my name in headlights, my own talk show, my own empire, songs written about me, you name it – I’ve dreamt it. As much as I love compliments is as much as I give them; frequently and fabulously BUT when I’m in a relationship I want to praise when I want to but be praised constantly. I don’t need them, but I do really enjoy them; however I am female.

Irrespective of my love for being loved; I wouldn’t ever believe it existed in the first month of dating someone. So I wouldn't ask for praise, I'd wait for it. As such, I'd take issue with him forcing emotions out of my mouth before I even felt them. So if he’s asking:

How much do you love me? I’m answering as much as won’t get me hurt.

If he’s asking what it takes to have my heart? I’d answer  his.

If he’s looking for a compliment? I’d tell him the mirror was enough praise (and the fact that I was with him)

and if he was looking for a bootycall? I’d tell him to hang up.

Tough love? Maybe - but I’m always going to be on a woman’s side in saying that behind every bitter woman are a few men who have broken her heart so please excuse the wall we’ve put up while you’re wooing us with potentially empty words. Prove it and everything will be reciprocated.

 

I want my partner to feel like the luckiest man on earth for being able to court and captivate me. I will feel infinitely luckier for having found a man that feels that and I hope that that will be enough. I don’t want to constantly need to reassure him of my love because he will feel it and know it. I don’t want to have to tell him he is handsome if he asks because if I didn’t love being with him, I wouldn’t. Simple.

Nobody wants a cry baby or there’ll be dummy-spits on both ends.

The dating manual is easy to read and goes a little like this:

1. If someone is going to cry it’s going to be the woman.

2. If someone is going to wipe tears away it should be the man. Mine not his.

3. If someone gets flattered it should be the female,

4.  If someone is to give it, it should be the male.

5. If "I love you is said," the man should initiate it.

6. When he does that, know that everything else will surely follow and gentlemen, that’s when your lady friend will step in and step up.

Compliments will come wherever they are deserved. Love will hold hands with shared experience and walk its way up to your heart but false and futile flattery is a waste of words and time for both of us.

Love is what we’re waiting for, anything less is a high-maintenance lie.

Short stuff and his Napoleon Complex

Napoleon Bonaparte was a short French Emperor who compensated for his lack of height through war, conquest and a starvation for power. A Napoleon complex is when you are vertically challenged and you spend your life making up for it…or trying to (while onlookers attribute it to your deficiencies in height).

I've got a Napoleon in my life. His philosophies are as archaic, he sees himself to be just as grande and his starvation for superiority is sickening and a bit exhausting. He has an epic case of short-man complex and boy is he mad about it.

He is rarely challenged. He tears you down for his own elevation and he revels in proving himself to be the smartest, wisest, strongest, most handsome guy in the room. NO he is not my boyfriend (and thank God for it because I think we’d kill each other) but he does get under my skin in the same way a boyfriend might because he’s always got something to prove and I am often compelled to prove him wrong.  Most of us know a guy or two like this too – they are not always small in stature but they are always small in our view of them. He’s a jockey on a pony – their isn’t even a prize-winning  horse (you know where) to boast of – although he’d say differently.

If snow-white were a real person and her fairy-tale turned reality show she’d have renamed the seven dwarves. There’d be Stupid, Imbecile, Cheater, Liar, Napoleon, Prick, and D***head – and they wouldn’t be her friends. Friendship with these dwarves never works.

Before you write me off as a cynic – let me explain….

My friend was cheated on this week. I don’t know how tall her ex-boyfriend was but I do know he is a very small man.

If a mirror, mirror on the wall was sought for advice, I’m adamant it would have called out the aforementioned names (Stupid, Imbecile, Cheater, Liar, Napoleon, Prick, and D***head) at him and it would have been justified in doing so.

I’m not just saying this because she is my friend, but my friend IS snow-white: the fairest of them all. She is truly the sweetest person I’ve ever met. No one could ever say a bad thing about her. She is what every man dreams for himself in looks, health, education and heart but this man made her life a nightmare. It will always puzzle me how a man so small, could get a girl so great and then be the one to sabotage his own happiness with her. Sadly, it’s not the only story of heartbreak I’ll meet with – she’s not the only sweet girl to be broken and he’s neither the first nor the last of men to tear a woman’s heart apart.

This man was the guy that TLC would have sung about. He was a scrub in all sense of the word. “Always thinking about what he wants, he just sits on his broke ass.” So she launched herself into a protective, providing and almost maternal role that nursed him back to a testosterone fuelled future….without her. She knows it’s for the best but the days ahead will be filled with questions of why, if she was so great, he could not see it.

The problem with these little men is that in their weakness, they don’t search to rise above their status or give thanks when they are punching above their weight, they redefine masculinity through cheating, through abuse, through verbal taunts that are aimed to assert to those around them that they are still “men.” Wrong little boy….so very wrong.

These men are rarely challenged and are a little bit Veruca Salt without her ‘golden egg’ when stood up to. He didn’t even apologise when he got caught.

Thank you Napoleon for giving us a phrase to categorise these dummies but my God why is there no other solution than being slapped around before ditching them or being ditched by them?

I’m someone who likes to give people the benefit of the doubt so like my friend, need a house to fall on my head before I realise the errors in my judgement. I’m not calling it stupidity, or naivety, I’d much rather label it kindness and understanding.

Obviously these small fellows are uncomfortable with having their heads that much closer to their backsides. I’d be cranky about that too.

A lover from another brother...interested?

How do you feel about dating your friend’s crush?

There’s an ethical dilemma on my friend’s hands. She has a huge crush on a lovely lad that appears to be courting her but her friend is a tad into him as well. The problem is, she didn’t realize her compatibility with him at first glance (few people ever do), so while her friend called dibs on him, she happily stood aside until they got talking and before she knew it she was falling for him too.

She asked me the other day. Is it worth pursuing when her friend had liked him first?

This is very tricky businesses when loyalty is tested but any rational woman would agree that you can’t call shotgun on a man who isn’t yours. Generally, it’s up to the gentlemen to make men of themselves and to pursue the girl that interests them. It’s not that I’m not a feminist. I am. I do believe in women’s rights but it’s because of the value that I place on women, that I think they should only be with men who appreciate their value (shown by them asking YOU out and not the other way around). Just like that, I think my friend’s question might have been answered.

If this man she is interested in is truly interested in her, then her friend should graciously step aside. After all, why would anyone want to be with someone who didn’t want them just as much?  On the flip side, why can’t they both step aside and ditch the male? Simply, because as a single person, I know it’s tough out there. You don’t come by decent guys often, so when they do pop up in your life and are just as infatuated with you, you’ve kind of got to hold on to that good thing. Your friend’s crush will pass.

Sounds simple in theory but it’s absolutely gut-wrenching in practice.

My friend is torn. Devastated. Losing sleep even.

I’ve seen two couples emerge out of broken relationships. In both situations, love was found; in one of them however, a friendship was lost. That brings me to my other questions….is it more important to hold on to a friendship that might not last or is it more important to give love a chance, in hope that it will outlast the friendship? Can your friendship be forgiving, open-minded and honest enough to withstand that sort of test?

When I first heard the story of a friend stealing his best mate’s ex, I was outraged, repulsed, stupefied. Essentially it was cheating on your best friend. After all, if you could callously switch off your sensitivity towards your friend for a moment of selfishness, how could you ever pledge loyalty (with meaning) to anyone again? It would seem that in this situation their word on loyalty would become void as a result of their disloyalty. I couldn’t be with someone like that. I would also struggle to befriend someone like that. It’s not even about being judgmental; it’s more about having the ability to respect someone enough not to pass judgment on them. This is the type of thing that would make me disrespect someone. I don’t like liars and I don’t like cheats.

The ethics of friendship and romance is murky however and always open to interpretation.

Since opinions are malleable, shades of grey exist, and definitions are subjective, what if all of the above happened to a pair of friends who:

a)     weren’t that close

b)    Only had crushes on these guys (and neither actually dated/kissed/marked territory in any way)

Would the rules change? For me, they do a little, especially considering the flip side of the argument.

Another of my friends is being courted by a couple of mates. They aren’t besties. They are both attractive and attracted to her. Both are pulling out all the stops to win her over. She is being coy, is enjoying the attention but is careful not to jeopardise either of these potential relationships because friendships are at stake.

If both boys don’t mind playing the same game, then there’s no harm in my friend putting her best foot forward and picking herself a winner. She’d also have to brace herself for a bit of heartbreak in case these boys choose friendship over her (unlikely situation as far as I can tell). I don’t think these boys subscribe to a bro code.

It’s a lesson we know and all agree with; hate the game and not the player. There are always casualties when love is played. You may win, you may shoot or you may be shot down. Brace yourself and don’t say I didn’t warn  you.

Alexithymia – do you have it?

I was complaining to a friend about a lack of material for my blog recently and being the devoted reader and loyal friend that she is, she alerted me to a problem I’ve regularly encountered but never knew how to name until she introduced me to Alexithymia.

Alexithymia is not a person, he’s not Greek but the word does have Greek origin. It’s a term that psychotherapist Peter Sifneos came up with to describe “a state of deficiency in understanding, processing, or describing emotions.” He sounds Greek too.

 The word comes from the Ancient Greek words λέξις (lexis, "diction", "word") and θυμός (thumos, "soul, as the seat of emotion, feeling, and thought") modified by an alpha-privative literally meaning "without words for emotions."

I wish I knew this when I first met my friend. He’s lovely and I don’t think he has this problem but funnily enough he is Greek also, and every time we’d come remotely close to having an emotional chat he’d break out into song and in the tune of the bad boys theme song, he’d sing “deep talk, deep talk…whatchya gonna do, whatchya gonna do when deep talk comes for you, deep talk, deep talk.” Just like that, I would end up in a fit of laughter and he would end up dodging the chat. Clever kiddo. Really clever.

Boys if you want to avoid D&M’s humour is the way to do it. Generally this is something that would enrage, frustrate, aggravate and annoy women…but not my friend. She’s found humour in her boyfriend’s alexithymia. He hasn’t been formally diagnosed but she has happily accepted this as the explanation for their verbally unaffectionate relationship.

She describes him as a gentleman, “old school chivalry and new school avoider.” She is verbose but not expressive of her emotions either (except towards me) so somehow the partnership works.

Her reflection on his better qualities got me thinking however…. are we being foolish in our expectations of men? In wanting a man who can eloquently express his love  are we denying ourselves time with the gentlemen who can show it rather than recite a Hallmark card?

I’ve dealt with both kinds of men. We all have.

Time and time again I have fallen for the wordsmiths, the William Shakespeare’s, the Will-you-marry-me-men who very quickly (every time) become the Will-you-stop-playing-me-men, the Will-you-shut-up-men and the Will-you-disappear-promptly-men. With all of these will’s that I won’t do a thing with, I’ve learnt that when he talks the talk, he stumbles in his walk (and I want a man who struts not stumbles).  

My friend’s newfound happiness (however much she chooses to downplay it) is admirable in its maturity, sweet in its sincerity and beautifully loving in its understanding. I know she would have gagged reading that sentence. Sorry my love but it was worth complimenting you and congratulating you on.

Mum has always said if words were free boys would never pay to use them. Sure enough, mum is right. She always is.

Another friend of mine has been through months of emotional torment because of the trail of  kind words that the guy she was seeing lay out . Initially, it had her following and wanting more. Although she knew he was toxic, she continued to drink from his poisonous cup. His words were alluring but ultimately soul-destroying. His words were cheap. She isn't.

All along though she knew he would hurt her, she bought into the sweet talk and ended up with a root-canal. Yes there was routing involved, yes when it was over it hit a nerve and yes, the pain of being played was a lesson not to dine with the devil – but when his words were beautifully presented, she keenly unwrapped his armour everyday. Everyday a new man was revealed. She became disillusioned. Everyday, he was less desirable. She kept unwrapping till no words were left. They were no longer good enough.

 We like words because they are kind.

We like words because they don’t need to be said and mean the world when they are.

We like words because they imply that we’ve been thought of.

We like words because they appear sincere, but what if people looked like their personality?

Would their words still matter?

How long will you allow yourself to be fooled by the man with the chivalrous shroud?

Be shrewd in your choices and believe in actions, not words. Many can talk, few can deliver -and the gamble seems to be working for my friend.