System failure! Trouble in paradise.

There’s a common problem among women that details the noticeable decline in performance when a woman moves her man from boyfriend to husband territory. If perhaps we were to make marriage a computer, then it is safe to say, once the husband upgrade is made available to the boyfriend application, the husband application begins to corrupt the romance folder. He does however help provide love and finances for bills. Where the boyfriend application was once free-flowing with flattery, the husband application continues to fail the female application user.

The Husband while in your life uninstalls passion, slows down performance, wipes out housework and installs sloth in replace of the aforementioned applications to your life.

This app is a common trend among many married women in my life. Where romance was rife once upon a time, once upon a time remains just that. In recent times, love exists but actions desist. The security coding ensures longevity in partnership and thus both folders remain permanent fixtures in each other’s lives. Not always happily so.

What many men find is that nagging to fix these technical difficulties adds to the system failure and while this computer crash damages the hope folder, there is no Tech nerd who has been able to fix it to date.

Desperation abounds and women everywhere struggle with the technical failures in their marriages. The Husband upgrade is a rude shock to the system and though the desired outcome is to shut down and reboot, most women admit to having caught the incurable commitment virus, so they stick around in hope for repair. Too many cherished files exist in this hard drive and so they’d rather salvage those files than start anew.

Women everywhere for years to come will complain of this problem. The answer however is in the acknowledgement that the boyfriend application was merely an entertainment package. He was there for theatricality, joy, outings and gallivanting. Husband is the upgrade for the woman wanting an operating system; a handyman if you will.

In the “Manual of Marriage According to Me,” it is written that to repair this system failure, a new command must be entered into the system. If the command is entered with passwords; guilt, tears and mother-in-law, husband is sure to operate.

Do beware that installing Mother-in-law will result in a Husband virus that may lead to a crash. If mother-in-law creeps in undetected it will affect the running of all of the programs in your home folder. In such a case, all unsupported files will fail you and you’ll be a sad system.

Do remember that while Husband fails in some areas, he’s worth the purchase. He has minimal mental storage, but optimal stomach storage. If you cook, he will run, if you run, he will remain attracted and while there is limited multi-tasking ability at least you know whatever he is working on is one task out of your hands.

If you clear out exes, work and miscellaneous rubbish from his files, he’ll have more room for you and is likely to perform at an acceptable pace.

Maintenance of your looks and your love will ensure a performance worth your purchase. A good lippy and a bit of lingerie might help too.

Keep this for the archives folder when the system fails in future.

Happily ever after…when never is more in sight.

I have been incessantly listening to Adele’s album this week; putting me in a happy/sad/love-longing/depressed/elated/fantastical mood. It pulls on every heart string and stirs every emotion – much like a break-up. I’ve been continuously listening to stories of them too (but that has been less of a choice).

The one track on replay has been ‘hiding my heart,’ about the inevitable heartbreak that comes from a transient relationship.

One friend I have knows all about this. This week I felt, saw and attempted to help her heartbreak as she dignifiedly watches on as an old flame, passionately prepares for his wedding to a new love (less than a year on from their break up). The girl he’s with also experienced devotee devastation when her former five year relationship crumbled. One woman’s treasure, was another woman’s treasure and woman number one was trashed instead. Love had to be cruel to be kind to her and though we know not to play with fire, sometimes we need to be burnt to move on.

It won’t make much sense to her for a while but there would never be enough love, or enough joy to fill her in a relationship where the love she had was unrequited.

I’m no expert on why one girl gets chosen over the other and what makes a man commit but I do know that if he hasn’t committed to you, then he’s simply not the one. I am all for shades of grey… but for healing’s sake, this is one truth that will always be black and white to me. If love exists it finds a way to conquer.

What gives me hope and assurance in this is a friend who has newly found love. Love even visited her in her dreams before she met him. True story.

I love this tale so much because this woman confirms that the right man is worth waiting for. Good things come to those who wait. The cliché is true.

She however is anything but cliché. She is vibrant, intelligent, beautiful (in and out), hard-working and very successful. I can’t fault her on anything. She is everything most women would hope to be (me included).

Women used to be told to downplay their intelligence so as to avoid intimidating the opposite sex. Her intelligence attracted a mental and emotional equal and the prospect of finding something like that thrills and delights me.

This young beauty was single for a while but was a champion for love. I’d hear her talk about meeting a man that brought her joy most days that I saw her. Perhaps her positivity powered this new romance. God knows she deserved that happiness. Everybody does and most people will get to experience it, but not without a period of loneliness first.

I think the secret to this is that in order to appreciate the love you have, you have to experience what it means to live without them so when they walk on set as an extra in your life, you quickly realize that you’d prefer them as a regular cast member with the scenes of romance on replay.

The real stuff is good too. The fights and the way you overcome them. The dark moments and the days their light rescues you from that misery. The moment when simply seeing them where you are is enough to satiate your hungry soul. Hearing their voice will do that too. Then their’s that day it unlocks happiness that was previously foreign to you. It’s this love that I’m waiting for.

It’s also this love that I hope soon comes to my friend. Heartbreak has forced her to hide her heart, but I hope that when the grieving is over and the healing begins, she is able to reopen her heart to find love that friend #2 in this story has got to know.

While love songs do nothing for my patience, they do plenty for my passion. and remind me that that fire is worth waiting out in the cold for. There’s a positive in everything.

Searching for Fabio

I’ve spent the week searching for Fabio, not the love-god of our imaginations, but Fabio Lanzoni the world-renowned, Mills and Boon, face of I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-butter. He’s the new face of Old Spice and I had the hard-hitting journalistic task of looking at all of his sculpted body-shots for ‘research.’ Tough gig.

In my quest, I came across a quirky webmaster, the founder of his website who had spent her working life, serving Fabio, she even wrote a book on Amazon titled; ‘Adventures in stalking Fabio.’ I laughed at first that even at 69, this woman was still fascinated with Fabio’s fine form, it even inspired her to write erotic romance novels (what menopause?!), then the greater message emerged, everyone’s looking for love or at least, lust, somewhere.

I think I found my great love on Ready Steady Cook this week. Patrizzio Buanne was a guest on the show, proclaiming the three words that every girl wants to hear, “I am single,” he said. Thank God! He can cook, sing and sweet talk and with looks like that, even mum would be impressed. He doesn’t know it yet, but we’re getting married. Patrizio if you’re reading this, I’m single too. We should really give this a go.

It seems good looks and gourmet chefs were the new formula for romance this week. Perhaps the way to a woman’s heart was through her stomach also, or maybe it was just in giving her a seat at the dining table rather than having her stand around and slave away in a kitchen. We loved to be fussed over.

Take for instance, the new dating show on channel 7, ‘Dinner Date.’ On what is a regular date night for many, those desperate, dateless or just desperate for drama, tuned in on Tuesday night to watch Simone Cunico’s quest for love as three eligible bachelors vied for her heart, through conversation and their culinary skills. She perused a selection of menus and agreed to date these men based on the food they had promised to prepare for her, no photos of the men were provided. She went with an open mind and open heart that naturally let the tall, dark, handsome fella in (even if he was a bit arrogant, he was macho and that was an alluring additional dessert to the menu).  She was happily being romanced and is still dating Mark; the man she chose to take on a second date on the new romantic dating series. It was lights, camera, and plenty of action for this attractive duo.

Most viewers criticised Mark on Twitter for his egotism (I’m stupidly a sucker for it). Some tweeps said that this proved that women always go for the jerks, but all boys have their moments so it was worth looking at his other finer traits.  His redeeming qualities were those that feature in most women’s checklists:

1. A winning smile
2. Kind eyes
3. He was family oriented
4. Great physique
5. Passion

Described like that, he sounds a bit like Fabio and that’s my point – we’re all looking to be rescued by the alpha-male. We’ve lost our voices protesting for women’s rights (somewhere between the office and motherhood), our feet are sore from the power-heels that elevate our self-esteem but rarely our pay and at the end of the day, we just want a gentleman to sit us down, treat us like a princess and who is built to save us from the day we’ve had.

Lucky for me, I found Patrizio. At last! I can call off the search.  Good luck in yours…. I have no idea where you’ll find him.

Weiner and Woods get women wondering about love.

This week, Congressman Anthony Weiner’s private life was exposed because his private parts were exposed to women other than his wife. The Weiner’s and the Wood’s (Tiger that is) have something in common, where balls are involved, games will be played and the first ladies are put second to the lustful sport of adultery where little men in powerful positions gamble love for garbage.

It’s no wonder women are constantly losing faith in the male species. I almost did this week until scrolling through my twitter feed. A subscriber of all things loving and romantic, one person I followed tweeted ‘don’t say there are no good men left, say I go to all the same places expecting for the scenery to change and to meet new people,” (I’ve paraphrased but that was more or less the point…and WHAT A POINT IT WAS).  Here I was wondering where Mr.Right was when I was hanging out on Dormant Drive – there would be no volcanic, earth shattering romance here – I had little option but to keep walking, keep searching…anywhere but here.

Then a funny thing happened….Mr.Right-Now came knocking at my door. Now I can say with certainty that he is not right for me, but he is present in my life, this minute. He came…also on Twitter (and yes, it is fall of twats) with another perspective on what it would take for me to give him my heart. He said, ‘an intelligent man opens your mind, a handsome man opens your eyes and a gentleman opens your heart.” How nice I thought. I want a combination of all three.

While he claimed gentility, his words when not attempting to court me suggested otherwise and as I questionned his inability to maintain the myth he'd portrayed, alas, an answer came through Lara Bingle. Also trending on Twitter, she said, ‘women fall in love with what they hear and men fall in love with what they see…that’s why men lie and women wear make-up.” Who knew Bingle could speak with such profundity? Experience educated her – her beauty reeled Cricket Captain Michael Clarke in to love but her scandalous photos and foul play made what was visible less desirable and so Clarke’s sweet-nothings ceased to be whispered, making Bingle single.  

Some couples are able to weather any storm though with Weiner’s wife pregnant in her first trimester, she has (as far as we’ve read) promised to stand by her man, seeking guidance from none other than Hilary Clinton on how to wipe the slate clean. I guess the lesson from Hilary for women is, when your man doesn’t know how to conduct himself in public, keep him private… and then wear his pants.

Edmund Burke (not on Twitter) said “the greater the power, the more dangerous the abuse.” These men, clearly unable to prove worthy of their power and abusing it when they have it, need women like Clinton and Beyonce to ‘run the world’ to keep them from misbehaving. Clinton wears the pants and Beyonce doesn’t wear any – perhaps finding a happy medium between the two is the secret to good governance of MANkind.

Crazy little thing called love.

Your palms are sweaty, you fix your hair, apply your lipstick and stick your boobs out a little (it’s no secret that boys like them… and you know it). Game on! If you’re male, you stand a little taller, act more obnoxiously, flex a little, and talk louder but deeper making that voice of yours a weapon of mass seduction as your vocal chords strum a few sweet nothings on the heart strings of your crush. It sounds ridiculous but those attracted to another dabble in the ridiculous to experience the sublime.

After getting in contact with a long lost friend and having a great chat on the crushes we’ve had over the past ten years, we quickly got on to the stupid things that we have done to attract the opposite sex. My friend (much braver than I…than most actually) dived head first into a dumpster to help find her crush’s lost possessions. He was too afraid to go in there himself so she chivalrously dispensed all of her inhibitions and gambled hygiene for love – somehow, believing the act would overpower the smell when she emerged from the bin for him. It’s one of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard. She didn’t get the boy (bad smells will do that to a person – but she also no longer wants him).

It got me thinking, what if there were full proof plans we could follow to ensure the affection of the one we have eyes for? I found answers in the animal kingdom (please note they are not necessarily full(or fool)proof).

There are many varieties in which animals compete with each other to attract a mate. Some animals attract through pheromones. This is disgusting! By producing a hormonal scent, females respond to this and are able to track the male. In the human world, those scents are usually kept secret till a couple is locked in love and less repulsed by the odours a man will emit. Women of course, never pass wind in case you were wondering.

We humans do, do a similar thing (I think more for us than for the opposite sex, by drowning ourselves in cologne or perfume). It is this animalistic notion of courtship however that has inspired advertising campaigns like the lynx effect. The men in these ads only require a simple spray that tickles and delights the senses of alpha females everywhere.

Colour display is another dating strategy for fish and our cousins,’ the chimpanzees. The colour change is used to illustrate an animal’s 'availability'. We imitate these primates by changing an outfit, dying our hair, applying make-up or pulling out our most alluringly coloured dresses to grab the attention of the men we’ve set our sights on. Men I believe, also work in colours, but internally. When their light is switched on red, they are occupied, taken and unavailable to your green light signals. When they are unhappy in relationships, tied up with work, committed to other things and not people, their yellow light comes on – it indicates that you can enter with caution. This light preemptively warns you that his situation is a changing one and as a woman you may enter but only at your own peril knowing that he may soon become unavailable or free up again for you and finally there is a green light that allows traffic to freely flow in to his life. A man with his green light on is the one you want to look out for…he’s the committed type, ready to date but also, just like a traffic light capable of putting dating to a stop and coming to a standstill with you.

I’ll happily admit to having done many a thing for attention and for love, I’ve written love letters, poems, made books, sung and have even done the neurotic sticking of post-its on cars, some have scored me brownie points, all are appreciated but not all have been reciprocated.

A big fan of grand gestures, I’m thankful for the insanity that overcomes us when we allow ourselves to become stupefied by love. It makes the crazy excusable and to that special someone, even adorable. Enter “The Notebook” and the famous “Say I’m a bird”…“Now say you’re a bird” line.

“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird,” the charming Ryan Gosling says in the movie.

Katie Melua labeled love “the closest thing to crazy (she) had ever been,” but she like most women wouldn’t have it any other way as she concluded ‘now I know that their’s a link between the two…being close to craziness, and being close to you.”  

I’d never ask for an end to the games, because amidst the craziness and the crush induced courtship, you meet a person that loves the way you smell, never asks you to change your colours but loves you with every change. If you’re a bird, he’s a bird and he’ll fly you to the moon and back.

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.

Delirium and the Accompaniment of Babble

I don’t know much about science but I do know that when biology is at play, chemistry can ignite. This week I learnt a valuable lesson in it, when a new equation; me + another = delirium became another algorithm I struggled with. It’s not rocket science but it’s just as difficult to figure out. The way you identify the creation of a new formula are fireworks and the insufficient supply of Carbon Dioxide when Biology kicks in and Chemistry bubbles, fizzes and overflows out of the flask that you thought you had a firm grip on. The flask is placed above the Bunsen burner, is well lit and it emits toxic gases that rush to one’s head, cloud one’s judgement and create the new formula; delirium. Delightful!

The equation comes together in grand gestures and the solution for heartbreak prevention is one part heart, two parts brain. The only cocktail allowed when emotions are fragile and waters are being tested.

The concoction is magical, groundbreaking and a medical phenomeonon – both a killer and a cure. 

The diagnosis is that it makes you clinically insane. 

The life expectancy is determined by a combination of things; 

a)      Is the other factor to the equation promising eternity? If yes, then follow your heart and you may have him for that long

b)      Is the other factor to the equation promising entrapment? If so, cute him loose

c)       Is the other factor only interested in the here and now? If so drop him, here and NOW!

With delirium at play, you will find your mind playing games with you, your heart beating a little faster, your mouth talking faster than your brain would ever allow it, but the illness has a cure and it’s entirely dependant on your will power. A friend of mine discussed a plan of action with me months ago on the way to counter prolonged symptoms; setting an expiration date at which point you stop questioning, stop wondering and re-start living, minus the other and thus minus the delirium. I hope you’re following. 

The idea behind setting an expiration date is that unless the end to delirium is a diamond, then the lack of oxygen that you are experiencing when the ‘other’ is around is a medical condition, in need of treatment. 

If this has all been too hard to follow then I’ll put it down to you having a stable relationship or a stable mind in which case you need no diagnosis, no oxygen mask, no cure. If you are at the start of new conquests, new shades of grey and are taking the road less travelled by then let expiration dates be your destination and your brain; your navigator – your heart will send you into delirium – the only formula they neglected to teach in science class.

You always want what you can't have until you get Facebook!

You always want what you can’t have and when what you wanted comes back begging for your attention, its desirability disappears. That’s my current dilemma but I’m also not the only one looking beyond what I own.

As I was writing this column, I opened up on ninemsn and stumbled across an article from a men’s magazine.  I don’t endorse that type of reading so I won’t post the link but it introduces the push-up bra for men’s packages. The idea is that you wear this wonder-wear and it enhances the appearance of your member, size-wise (it’s not a miracle worker). I can see a lot of willing consumers subscribing to this gimmick. In 2011, it seems women are not the only ones who are optically illusive with their bodies. We all own a pair of spanks, a body shaper, we gel, blow-dry or keratin our hair. We always want what we can’t have and being au naturale is sometimes a little bit too daunting for both players in the courtship game. 

My dilemma of wanting what I couldn’t have then suddenly not wanting it all, came in the once desirable entering the pornography trade; or close to. The ever damaging facebook revealed intimacy with other women. We all facebook stalk. It’s the easiest way to do a background check and the easiest way to be disappointed in your latest infatuation and even though he is roaming the streets carousing, gallivanting, Hugh-Heffnering around the place (although with women his age) he still finds time to check up on me. He would. Men like him are never satisfied with just one woman. Enter Oprah with my ‘aha’ moment. I shoulda seen. I coulda seen. I woulda seen had I taken off my blinders but we all know the cliché is true and ‘love is (in fact) blind.” 

A study in Cleo magazine found the saying to be true. In a test to see how men and women responded to their partners, it was not a photo that stimulated the heart but a memory, as “feel-good” transmitters floated through their pools of romantic, emotional bodies. That was sweet I thought because it meant these loved-up couples were in it for matters of the heart. How promising! (read it here http://www.cleo.com.au/men-and-women-from-same-planet-romantically.htm ) It dispelled the notion that men and women are from different planets and told us that love was what made the world (our same world) go round. Lovely!

 Madison magazine’s February issue reports the same. It chased several couples that chased love and believed they found it in different parts of the globe. Some fought till their love conquered, others (these are the ones I paid attention to this week) let their senses conquer. Good for them!

The one story that really struck me was of a young woman who harboured a love for a man she met at a conference. Love-struck and in romantic euphoria she held on to the penchant she had for this man for years. She believed that if they could be in the same place at the same time and rid of their state-divide, they could be happy. Time passed, distance in kilometers decreased, they moved on with their respective lives but every so often, this love would creep back into her life. She waited for that spark, but the fireworks were out upon discovering that he had married, moved on and was just looking for an affair the second time around. She realized she loved the idea of him, but the reality was repulsive, bland, disappointing. She moved on. She grew up. She found him on facebook and her latter perceptions were confirmed.

I’m still a hopeless romantic, just a little more cynical this week and just as I was about to give my old crush another go and hold on to the idea that I could be the exception, I logged onto facebook and saw he’d face-booked himself with a few online loves, r.s.v.p.d to a few more parties and signed his youth away to superficiality. Love is the deal. His lust for others is the dealbreaker. 

It’s true you always want what you can’t have but sometimes, if you’re lucky, what you want eventually comes back for you and that’s when you realize what you wanted is not really what you want at all. Phew!

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!