Boys will be boys

Every girl knows too-creepy-too-forward-guy who doesn't know the difference between flirting and gross disrespect… or pretends not to know for his delight.
 
There was one colleague I once had who brazenly asked another colleague's mother if his workmate (her son) had been circumcised...and he's straight! Why he'd need that information is beyond me.

Friendly or inappropriate?

 I don’t know what dinner table topics he was taught were acceptable but most of us didn't have a Meet the Fockers’ type upbringing. He laughs about that night now but I don’t think he ever learnt his lesson.
 
And we shouldn't be surprised.

Clichés exist because they are repeatedly used. So history tells us that, ‘boys will be boys,’ ‘old habits die hard,’ and that ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,’ which after this week, I’m pretty sure is talking about men and their inherent inability to learn, to
change or to be bettered. I can’t be mad if it’s just in their genetic makeup.  
 
Knowing this should have dictated my actions last week when I honestly approached a boy who I thought was a man about the inappropriateness of his conversation with me. I wasn't China imposing censorship laws against his every word, I was a decent girl speaking to a friend who I thought respected me enough to accept my opinion and was man enough to appreciate my honesty. Despite his intelligence, a mutual appreciation for each other's conversation and an acknowledgement that we enjoyed the challenge that each brought to the friendship, his ego couldn't handle a simple request from me not to be spoken to discourteously. Was this for a love of vulgarity or was he simply too proud to accept that on this one occasion he might have been wrong?

If the situation was reversed, a woman would phone the person, apologise profusely for the indiscretion and vow never to do that wrong thing again. I would at least… but men and their ego’s are no new thing.
 
This week, a man we have loved to hate over the course of the Amazing Race, Chris Pselletes fronted the crowds that hate him in a live interview. Pselletes was labelled an "abusive, hot-headed misogynist." Appearing contrite in a Daily Telegraph interview, he said he was ‘disgusted’ with himself and would work on earning the high opinion of the people around him to prove that he was respectful. (You can read about it here http://www.heraldsun.com.au/entertainment/confidential/racers-shame-over-treatment-of-partner/story-e6frf96x-1226073590038 ).  He has a colossal task on his hands.

Although I know I wouldn’t be with a man that spoke to me like that, and Australia thinks his girlfriend Anastasia should take the Amazing Race out of that relationship, at least he grasped the concept that  respect was something earned, not established.
 
My friendship was platonic so neither of us had to fight it out, but this intolerance of being shown up struck me as typically male and I was curious as to why things turned sour when there was a threat to a man’s power?
 
An ‘inferiority complex’ is what most psychologists put this erratic behaviour down to. In 1912, a psychologist by the name of Alfred Alder wrote a book titled The Neurotic Character. His research in this book founded a popular area of psychology known as the inferiority complex which is a term used to describe a sense of inferiority an individual feels about oneself towards other people. It revolves around social status, power, ego, and dominance. You will have an inferiority complex when you feel inferior and think that other people are better than you.

Aha!…Light at the end of the tunnel…Chris yelled because he was unworthy of Anastasia’s forgiveness or partnership on the show and in life. He reacted angrily as a way to assert to himself that he was in control, and in his rage, spiraled out of control instead. Anastasia tolerated the anger, perhaps out of pity, perhaps out of love. Definitely, because she was better than him.

Although I was upset about a strangely sour end to a friendship, I’m not going to fight for someone who refuses to respect me. However, I will delight in the fact that he responded so illogically because he thinks I’m better than him….then proved I was.

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.

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.