New Year, New You, New Men, New Me!

 If even Jennifer Hawkins can be dumped, the hope for relationship stability seems slim – even slimmer than her! Make no mistake she was dumped by retail giant Myer not her hunky boyfriend Jake Wall. Myer gave Jen Hawkins the boot (Read the article here: http://news.ninemsn.com.au/entertainment/8190557/hawkins-dumped-from-myers-la-show) and not the fashionable kind, giving her the ‘it’s-not-you-it’s-your-agent’ line. The agent declined to comment and so far on the last day of 2010, Jennifer Hawkins hasn’t said a word in her defence. Their’s a lesson here….their always is; to put an end to unhealthy relationships in 2011. New Year’s Resolution # 1

The second lesson to learn is not to accept being treated as less than what you know you’re worth. Whether or not Jen Hawkins is the diva that some speculate she is we can all identify with a situation where in a relationship we were undervalued or underappreciated. Not in 2011!

The reason why we won’t settle for anything less than perfection is because the trusted news Gods at CNN have forewarned us that the universally iconic midnight kiss may pave the way to a year of good fortune or bad luck.  They warn against drunken and thus blind, lip-locking. Kissing experts tell us if we act swiftly but unwisely that lack of intelligence will follow us through 2011. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to force stupidity’s hand just because you were stupefied by that hazily handsome man at the New Year’s Eve fireworks would you? (Watch the report here: http://edition.cnn.com/video/#/video/living/2010/12/30/collins.kissing.in.new.year.cnn?iref=allsearch)

In Sydney, the New Years Eve celebrations are themed around big changes; they declare to New Years Eve revellers to ‘make their mark” – not just on someone else’s face but on the world, and no one ever did the latter, blind drunk. Resolutions # 3 and 4 – don’t kiss frogs, only princes and make your mark – don’t deny what is pre-destined because of pre-mixed drinks.

If it is true that love comes when you’re not looking for it then this year, ‘make your mark’ on the world, in your family, in the office even, because, as your changing the world, all eyes will closely watch you and in the corner you’re not looking, will be that person waiting for you to notice their adoration for you and you don’t want them looking on while your kissing a New Years Eve mistake.

Yahoo released a Top Ten list of what we were most obsessed with this year and Jersey Shore sat comfortably in the Top 5. While I will admit to subscribing to this side-splittingly funny, mind-numbing show, I’ll suggest that we let Mike “The Situation” make our stupid mistakes for us while we look on in awe and relief at the fact that we know better and in 2011, do better. (http://yearinreview.yahoo.com/2010/us_10_obsessions#10%20Obsessions%20of%202010 )



GRADUATION: PLUS DEGREES, MINUS THE HEAT

I graduated last week and ended a significant chapter of my education. I joined the ranks of Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens, Andy Lee and Megan Gale, Scarlett Johannsen and Ryan Reynolds. We all learnt our lessons and stepped up in life and away from a significant chapter of our youth. I ended my love hate relationship with university. They ended their love hate relationships with each other. We all graduated. These ends to what appeared to be long paved futures got me thinking about endings and the way we commemorate or celebrate them. 

Last week’s triumph was about the end of study, the completion of two degrees, a tick off my life plan, an X on my to do-list and a chance for other priorities to be pushed forward. I was reminded of Carrie Bradshaw’s book launch party where everyone from creationism’s Adam to Zac Efron was invited and not one of the guests was her plus one. She asked with sorry sincerity, why amidst all of one’s achievements, one’s success, does a minus one, always equate to zero? I’m no mathematician, but I do know it takes two to tango and I too, amidst my triumphs couldn’t help but think of my relationship status – tragedy. Single! There was no Danny Zuko from Grease to end graduation, to jive out of University jail, to spend ‘those summer nights’ with or to tickle me pink with his T-bird. Instead, I was cruising for an emotional bruising while checking out the PHD students at graduation, in search for the most eligible bachelor in the room.  I Failed. No A grades or High Distinctions in that assessment. 

As I walked down my graduation aisle, adorned in my academic robes, I royally realized that I hadn’t settled down because I was not willing to settle. There’s my thesis. On the honour roll this week, sharing the same philosophy was: Vanessa Hudgens and Zac Efron; muting their High School Musical melody. To make things difficult for the rest of us on planet single, Megan Gale and Scarlett Johannsen also pulled out their To-Let signs as they split from Andy Lee and Ryan Reynolds respectively. As a single girl, I’m thrilled to see both Andy and Ryan back on the market but am a little devastated to be in the boxing ring with the bold and the beautiful Scar-Jo and Megan. This week proves the beautiful are also the damned. I’ll happily place myself in that category too. Drama class of 2010 is now in session. 

In drama, high school sweethearts, model misfits and the acting elite were all minus one.  Zac Efron graduated from high school into a dynamic acting career, Megan Gale hoped for children while Andy Lee hoped to stay one and Scarlett Johannsen and Ryan Reynolds …well that’s an equation I can’t quite fathom. What I can conclude however, is that the single life, at least in the celebrity world appears to be a celebration, an emancipation – even a reminder that life is their to be lived. Successes come and go, relationships do too and with each phase comes a new lesson, a better evaluation of yourself and a narrower list of what to search for. 

Graduation I learnt, did not mean the end to schooling, it was the start of dating academics. It was entry into the CBD and eligibility to mix and mingle with the learned men in suits at the nearest stock exchange. 

Graduation was worth celebrating because me, plus two degrees equaled greater belief in what I could achieve. The star students of 2010 famous and not, have all ended this session with a sense of accomplishment. They, having trod, having conquered and having self-evaluated have discovered their potential for promotion and graduated with First Class Honours and as Masters of their future. Now that’s an undeniable plus!

Flatter, Flutter, Flee

By Miriam Eryan 

They say good things come in threes…the same rule applies for confusing things. The object of my confusion is mankind and his brotherhood. Men claim to be simple so I’ve simply categorized them in a tripartite division.

It’s the flatter, flutter, flee syndrome where one man will flatter you just because he can. This breed exists merely to remind you that some men have their vision and values in check. They keep you optimistic about finding that rare gentleman who will look without touch, who sees and believes and who will testify to the choir. 

The other man has your heart a flutter, your eyelashes batting. He ‘gives you fever’ but he that speaks idle words has a loveless heart and lustful agenda. This one is most cunning because he keeps you wanting more; key in ignition, he revs your engine but has a short battery life and once he’s taken you for a spin or two, you’re ditched on a sidewalk negatively charged. 

The third flees BC – that is before charming you or having the chance to be charmed. He is also known as the taken man, the gay man or as much as we hate to admit it, the uninterested. 

Last week, I had encounters with all three and my column was inspired by a scene from my much beloved Sex and the City. It’s where Carrie meets Berger the charming writer with a girlfriend (the latter fact omitted from his conversation). He was your typical ‘Flatter Man’ – sweet, charming, courteous, taken! He flattered, fled and the fireworks though seemingly undeniable where hastily put out – hindered by his missus. 

I’ve met a few Bergers in my short existence and increasingly, biting into an aged burger is losing its appeal as the subject fails to satiate the hunger for a relationship. Having reached expiry, the situation wreaks of desperation so while I maintain friendship, I’m almost certain, I’ll NEVER have fries with that!

The second type of man, I met at the gym. I’ve never quite understood why men find sweaty, smelly women attractive so when I’m attracting the primordial male at my ugliest in my track-pants, I’m always expecting someone to jump out and tell me I’m being punk’d. Cynicism aside, the askmen article (http://au.askmen.com/top_10/dating_100/134b_dating_list.html) rings true and with every drop of perspiration comes a man with flirty conversation. This of course is to our horror because when you approach we have panda eyes, red faces and sweaty hair – not quite pageant material. This man, I believe approaches because his carnal instincts see a woman work hard, sweat plenty who presumably, will play, work and sweat in satisfactory proportions. He; muscular and ego injected attempts to inflate your sense of self with his flattery as your steroid. Your heart muscle goes into overdrive. Be weary though, neither heart attack nor drug addiction was ever positive outcomes of a crush. You turn to perve on the quieter, more desirable, less approachable guy beside him. 

This guy is the one not interested. He doesn’t catch your gaze, he looks for beauty elsewhere and he doesn’t see you. He flees or you flee from embarrassment because the idea of unrequited love is a) repulsive b) disappointing but also c) promising because some men have eyes only for their partner and no adrenalin charged flattery, gym induced sweat or flirty banter will seduce him into slipping up. He’s the one you’re after and also the one you can’t have. The sayings are always true – you ALWAYS want what’s out of reach. 

Clichés as common, tried and uncreative as they may be, exist because they resonate with us. In keeping with clichés, happy endings are the clichés that happily end romantic comedies and that’s what this life is – a tale of funny flirtations with a happy ending that is luxurious in feeling as the velvet curtains that follow our final bows. 

Shakespeare knew exactly what he was talking about when he called the world a stage. He valued play and gave us midsummer night’s dreams to act out and see comedy in our dating errors; fleeing from each scene that threatens our happiness. 

With this in mind, learn the script, know the characters but remember to improvise and shock into sincerity – that’s when truest selves are revealed.

The F Word

It’s that word that every woman dreads. It’s the word that compartmentalizes your fantasies, storing them in the Do-No-Open section of your brain, attempting to arrest your dreams and keep them in its protective custody. The angel of freedom guards this room and puts a padlock on the thoughts insisting you let the sentence be served while you roam free. Your thoughts however, are like Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton are to prison – temporary fashionable visitors with bad habits. You sign the release and put your thoughts on parole and as is characteristic, your thoughts stray. Those alarm bells ring rampantly and then the angel flaps its wings as you sift through the shoulda coulda wouldas. 

The word that drives you to this institution is the word friend; where no girl wants to be unless you’re slipping a girl in front of that. We young, confident, desirable women are confused at how after all we’ve done to gain someone’s attention; we end up in the can’t-touch-this file because you’re the buddy, the friend, the mate, the pal. Please!!! This is what our girlfriends are for. Surely you know that we don’t want to discuss you and how poorly you read and receive us with YOU. 

Some men would argue that that in fact is our core problem…that we conceal our emotions and then worry about honesty but the fact is you’ve admitted to liking the chase and a forward woman, while sexually liberated to her gender is less sexually attractive to yours after a while because he masculinity is more assertive than your own and that is emasculating to you and your egos. We stay silent on feelings for fear of rushing you to the f word. You flirt and give off signals and we reciprocate the code but more often than not we’re speaking different languages, reiterating the notion that men are from Mars and women are from Venus and collectively, we’re confused. 

I’m in this situation now – the friend with a dream of more…never directly placed there but my behavior marked the spot and my ‘mate’ – not in the copulating sense of the word, danced around the spot till his footprints created a divide. Before we knew it, we were standing in different places. From where I stood, there was only one view, as an onlooker to his life. Stuck in my circle, I could spin around till I got dizzy , dip my toes in the murky water around me or charge through the mud. 

We’re the makers of our own destiny and I often feel we’ll cling to a fantasy for fear of exploring the unknown. If we don’t like X then whatever will our brains do with all of that downtime? The answer? You’ll think of you. That of course is your greatest investment because loving yourself, not in the vain type, but being comfortable in your own skin is your most powerful ammunition. So load that ego!

In every situation you are given two options; to sink or swim.

These days’ drowning in illusive love is not the tale I want to tell about myself so I’ve opted to swim. As dirty and damaged as the mud may make me, I’ll emerge as the heroine of my own story – not like the drug/addict more like the hero and we all know the wonders of a mud bath. After a nice long cathartic mud wrestle and shower, I’ll have fabulous skin and an attractive ‘friend’ that notices.

Summer Lovin'

It’s summer in Sydney and the heat is on and my question while the sun is shining and our skin is bare is; how safe is it to play with fire? That old flame is lingering, dancing (very well) in your mind and twirling up a disco inferno. 

You know the type. 

He’s that man you’ve held a penchant for for weeks, months, years even. He’s always charming, ever-friendly and never flawed – so you can’t catch him up on anything and the saucy news is he’s at a party near you, salsa dancing with your friend. This man enjoys the chase but you’re unsure if he’s still running after you because if he is after all this time you're thinking what great endurance he must have to be running this marathon.  You keep waving that finish-line-flag in a desperate bid to stop the games. 

In the silly season that we are in do we run with it, let our hair and guard down, enjoy the festive flirt and then lament our loneliness later, or, do we stay sensible so there’s no damage control or heartbreaking New Year’s resolutions to remake and possibly re-break?

My disco-dancer is footloose. He just can’t stop toe-tapping around me. He is a round the clock thought, a year round whirlwind and no weatherman could have ever predicted the natural disaster that would become of me. I play it cool these days, I played it smart (I thought) back then and he just played…everyone and everything around me. I'm persistent - a great strength and weakness - so I waited and smiled my way politely into friendship territory and now I’m stuck as the BFF when all I wanted was to be the GF….. and subsequent wife (but that was in the fine print). 

There’s my issue. 

It’s the so far eternal struggle to find the man who will keep his pants on, his hands out of his pants and his arms happily around me without an upward or downward slide. As a girl saving herself for marriage (we’re a dying few) and unwilling to compromise, it’s difficult to find a man who’s happy to love you for you, without ‘bed-loving’ you first. That crush of yours predatory and unable to wait, taunts you with his manly charm and primitively delivers his mating call. He appears EVERYWHERE as your forbidden fruit. 

As complex as it may be, it's not rocket science. We all know summer fruits are best had in their season. 

If they’re overripe they don’t satiate your desire and if they’re pre-season, they’re sour and unwelcome. BUT... in summer – they’re sweet, refreshing and can be shaken or stirred in a cocktail of your choice. 

I think I’ve just answered my question and resolved to let this fire burn, baby, burn. 

The worst that could come of this is that a cute fireman will come to my rescue and we ALL love a man in uniform!

Supermarket Seduction

You know that Michael Buble song “I just haven’t met you yet” that all unfolds in a supermarket aisle, that had you apply your lip-gloss before you stepped into Coles or fix your hair when that cute guy brushed past you in a shopping aisle, even though you knew, in real life things didn’t happen that way? Well they do!

I had my Michael Buble moment about a week ago, but my guy wanted boobs (and to get) laid, rather than the Buble romance I was hoping for. The event got me thinking; how do we single girls weed out the gentlemen from the germy ones and when is it safe to take risks on romance? 

This man was seemingly everything perfect from a superficial stance; he was tall, muscular, in a suit, a Financial Adviser at the Commonwealth Bank and a suitable age; the Corporate Banker however, was a corporate wanker (excuse the French) and I had my hands tied, so we were never going to work out. 

Was it desperate of dateless me to accept a date from a stranger in a supermarket or should we wear our hearts on our sleeves hoping to meet a cardiologist to restore it to its original place and keep it beating? 

Love is something that perplexes all of us – lust is easy, but love is ‘what the world needs.’ About 1,830,000,000 results explode onto our screens from a google search of the word ‘love,’’ 

how to tell if a guy likes you’ yields a whopping 27,400,000 results and of those millions of tortured hearts, I bet all are still searching for an answer, to that one person who is the exception to every rule book. 

I believe nothing valuable comes easily, and the gain of love is worth this seemingly futile struggle. With Jane Austen in my hand, Celine Dion on my Ipod (don’t judge) and Cinderella on my mind, I’m going to be the bastion for happy-endings, and you hopeless romantics will continue to read my blog for the musings on where to find our Romeo or Juliet….with a happier ending I hope.

In the meantime, I’ll blame Disney for my high expectations of men, and my male audience can blame Mattel. 

Let the search for perfection continue; believe and be. 

Yours sincerely (for now),

Miri

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AJmKkU5POA (Michael Buble's song - where the delusion began)