Category Archives: Love

A letter to my hypothetical boyfriend

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I don’t know what your name is, but I am secretly hoping it’s Kyle. I always thought Kyle is a sexy name for a guy. If your name is Amadeus, then we’re off to a good start. That means you have cool parents, because seriously, who names their son Amadeus? Only cool, creative parents, right? And if your name is indeed Amadeus, please, allow me to call you A.

I have no idea what you look like. Are you even taller than I am? I’m too short to begin with so I am guessing that you are. But height doesn’t really matter, unless it matters to you. Do you have a crooked smile? How about a scar on your arms? You probably have deep, brown eyes. Am I asking too much questions? I’m sorry, I’m just really curious.

If your guess is as good as mine, I’m sure I have never met you before. I don’t even know if you actually exist. Perhaps you’re just a fragment of my imagination, which is why I refer to you as my hypothetical boyfriend.

But there is nothing more I want than to talk to you right now. I’m here at the bus station alone, waiting for my bus that won’t come until two in the morning, and the clock just hit midnight. Wouldn’t it be nice if you’re sitting next to me right now? We could be planning about things we can do on this three-day holiday by the red sea.

We could be teasing each other now–I will brag that I’m a better kite surfer than you are and you will desperately attempt to prove me wrong. We can play bets! Like whoever is the better kite surfer gets a kiss, and in a way, that is win-win situation for both of us.

Or we could be sitting next to each other right now–me with my Nick Hornby book, and you with your iPad–we won’t be talking, and that’s alright, silence isn’t awkward between us because we know we have tomorrow ahead of us.

However, you are not here to convince me that I won’t be having breakfast alone tomorrow. I don’t have you around to remind me to pack my tooth brush and yours. See, I just found out I left my tooth brush in my flat and that is all your fault.

I spend most of my days waiting. Waiting for my coffee, waiting for my turn in any line, waiting for the movies to start, and all the waiting wouldn’t have been that excruciating had you been telling me the most funny jokes. I hope you can beat my sense of humor!

A seven hour bus trip would have been delightful if you are here right now. We will be talking about which Asian restaurant we will try when we get there, we will agree to dance salsa tomorrow night even if no one else is dancing. Oh, boy, I am already looking forward to it! Or we can just close our eyes and sleep in comfort in our locked arms.

I need you to be here to keep me grounded, to remind me to stop when I am close to crossing the line. I know that if you are here, I will feel so much safer and braver. I know you’ll be beside me if things go wrong, and more so when things go right.

I need you to remind me when I am being snotty, when I am being bossy, or when I am acting like a child. I am sure that you will be honest with me because you only want me to be the best version of myself.

I am really bored without you. Where are you? What are you doing right now? It would be better if we meet now rather than never. You could be one of these guys in this waiting room. Maybe you’ll be on the same bus as I am. And if I’m lucky, I might even get to sit next to you.

Maybe I’ll find you in the same hotel that I’ll be staying at tomorrow. Or maybe you’ll see me walking around the beach. When you see me, please don’t be a stranger. Just let me know that you are my hypothetical boyfriend and we can both cut the crap and just make up for our lost time.

I’ll make you muffins! I’m a great cook! I hope you like eating because I do. Please have a big appetite! Tell me what your favorite dish is and even if it is something I’ve never cooked before, I’m sure google will give me a decent recipe.

Do you like watching movies? I’m guessing that if we are going to be together, that means that you do! I’ll watch a horror movie with you, only if you promise to watch a romantic comedy flick with me. We will play your favorite songs in the car, even if it’s punk rock or hard metal, but you will have to learn salsa and dance with me! I’m sure we will work it out, that’s what compromise is for, right?

There are so many things I don’t know about you and I just want to know everything right now! I want to be able to look at you and tell myself that finally, I know what it feels like! I want to make you laugh. I want to be able to make you trust me. I want to look straight in your eyes and thank you for being with me. I want to be in the company other than myself. I want to be in your company.

But no matter how much I would want for you to be here right now, I can’t just pull you out of a magic hat. I can’t order you from eBay, and I don’t have a genie to grant me three wishes. The only thing I can do is try to find you and I’ve been trying to look for you for a while now.

Maybe that’s what I’ve been doing wrong. Maybe you are also trying to find me and because we’re both looking in the wrong places, we keep missing each other. Maybe I should just stop looking for you. Maybe it’s time for me to stop making you muffins, planning for our future, and thinking of you, because you don’t exist–at least not yet.

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An open letter to all hopeless romantics

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The littlest things can shoot the biggest whammy in your throats. The most ordinary gesture like a simple hello or an unassuming smiley off an sms can play so much riddle to keep you guessing the entire day. You try to put so much energy in deducing 101 hidden meanings to a colon and a close parenthesis. You relish that feeling of anticipation. You start wondering when will you see that person again, and though there are no definite answers, at least you have something to look forward to.

When you meet that special someone, you have something going on for you–planning the next tryst, questions you want to ask them, information you need to know about them that goes all the way back to their childhood. You just want to know everything about this particular person and you want to know everything now! And if you haven’t met that special someone, you still have something to keep you going because you think that today is the day you will meet the one, and if it isn’t today, tomorrow’s another day.

Ah, yes, the one. You believe in the one–that that person might just be waiting around the corner, at your favorite bookstore perhaps, checking out titles from your favorite author. Ah, the romance of it is already making you smile with glee. You believe that you might meet the one on the way to the gym, or while you are waiting for your favorite latte, hoping that whoever that person is is right there waiting for his/her usual cup. Secretly, you have formed this idea in your head that the way you will meet that special person will be in the most canny scenario. Perhaps you will accidentally spill that latte on that person’s shirt, perhaps you will purposely spill that latte on that person’s shirt. And after the awkward apologies, you just know. You just both know that you are each other’s happy ending. Which brings us to happily ever afters. You firmly believe that there is an epic ending to every story, that love conquers all, which is why no matter how difficult, and complicated, and twisted it gets, thanks to your opposite ideals, contradicting values, cultural and religious gaps, you still manage to fight to the very last breath. You become the unnamed martyr. You become the biggest gambler, the greatest soldier. You believe that love is a battlefield and you will use all your energy and power if that is what it takes to be in love.

You hear people say that love is blind and you just roll your eyes because you are convinced that love is not blind. Well, there you go, you are blinded by your own hopeless romanticism. You believe that love is sweeter the second time around which is why you unreluctantly forgive, you irrevocably turn a blind eye to all the hurt, the pain, the drama that is turning you one or two bit insane everyday without you even noticing. And it’s ok because you are fighting your way to happiness. It is ok because no matter how it is crippling your every move, you still have something to keep you going. You have that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling that is more than enough for you to live on. You don’t care if everyone tells you that you are such a cliche because to you this is as real as it can get. This is your reality.

Now, I look at you and I am angry and envious at the same time. I see you and think how pathetic you are for believing such lovey dovey crap. You have turned yourself deliberately blind that all I would want to do is poke chopsticks on your eyes until it bleeds to nothingness. But heck, I am extremely jealous for your natural ability to feel feelings. I am envious of you because you are vulnerable and you are perfectly aware of your vulnerability, yet you are not afraid to be. You are susceptible to hurt and you are embracing it tightly, and deeply to the core.

I look at you and I see a fraction of myself. Or at least a fragment of who I used to be–naive, optimistic, always looking at the glass and seeing it as half full even if the glass is broken. But for one reason or another, something inside me has shifted and all the butterflies in my stomach are gone.

Meeting new people does not enthuse me anymore. I’d rather spend time with people I’ve known for a while than start investing time on someone who will probably break my heart in a couple months’ time. I am vulnerable and I am aware of this which is why I stay away.

I started taking things for what it is–a smiley face is a smiley face, nothing more, nothing less. A hi is a hi and not an invitation to share a life with someone. I have become literal, the kind that goes by what you see is what you get. I stopped reading between the lines and took comfort in knowing invisible lines do not exist.

And I am alright, I really am. I found a new way of looking at things and it is liberating in a no-nonsense, drama-free kind of way. But there are days, like today, when the hole that replaced the butterflies in my stomach becomes more eminent. And I am left wondering whether or not I will be able to find the place where hopeless romantics and indifferent people meet.

The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Dating a Writer aka Things You are Getting Yourself Into if You are Fool Enough to Date Me

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If you are reading this, most likely, you are so into me (or maybe you just don’t know it yet!) You are attracted to me and that is perfectly fine because I don’t see any reason why not. Who can resist the charms and eloquent wordplay of a writer, right?

Look, the first thing you need to know, should you date a writer, is that we are full of sarcasms. On the first date, we will not be caught eating with our mouths closed and/or speaking politely. Instead, you will find us talking endlessly, and loudly! Every conversation will be filled with irony and wry humor. In between munching our freshly tossed salad, we will manage to retell as much anecdotes from our childhood in full details. Usually, we will start the story with “when I was seven” which is a clear indication that you should prepare yourself for a long talk.

We don’t know about you, but we certainly don’t want to be on a first date with awkward, piercing silence, and the sound of crickets in the background.

Should you want to ask us out on a second date, (we are slightly impressed you would even consider that) please know that the three-day rule does not apply to us. For goodness’ sake, be considerate enough to know we have deadlines. And if we are in the middle of finishing a 1,200-word article, sorry, Babe. We will have to say no even when we might really be dying a little bit inside to see you too. Dating a writer means you have to understand that we can disappear out of your radar for hours, or days, even weeks, not because we are not that into you. We are just very busy writing the next best-selling novel, no kidding!

If, after sometime of seeing each other, it turns out that you still like us (hallelujah! We are taking that as a miracle,) please, do not be a chicken, and just have the balls to tell us. We don’t want sissy characters in our love stories. Tell us how you really feel about us so that we can be inspired to finish four chapters that should have been on our editor’s desk two months ago. Motivate us. Give us that sense of euphoria that will release our minds out of that dreadful writers’ block syndrome.

You have to know that we are eccentric, which is a fancy word for crazy. You’ll have to have a vocabulary that will keep up with ours. We want someone we can communicate with–someone who can understand us and who we can understand. One of the good things about dating us is that you’ll find yourself learning how to express (just in case you are the typical macho who contains emotions in your private, dark, empty cave.) Maybe you are the kind of guy who always starts every sentence with “I think.” Well, if you are dating a writer, you might catch yourself starting to use “I feel.” We don’t blame you. Writers are highly emotional and intensely dramatic beings. That is just one side effect from spending time with us.

Remember that we have this unique ability to string words to perfection. Sometimes, you will hear us using the words chauvinistic and creme brulee in one sentence. When that happens, show your support with a quick smile and a nod telling us that you get it–that it makes clear sense.

If you happen to read our blogs or articles that got published in some magazine, and it is against your liking, call it anything but stupid. That will turn us off to a degree that we might consider the idea of strangling your neck with our bare hands. Worse, it will be a lucid demonstration of your poor taste in literature.

Because we know that you are reading our every single blog entry (although, most probably, this is just all in our heads–we have a highly creative imagination just for you to know) to find out how messed up we are, we will not disappoint! We will fill our blogs with a parade of seemingly screwed up and downright depressing stories just so we can live up to your expectations. These blog entries might not be real, they might just be overflowing with hyperboles and exaggeration, and we will leave it for you to decide. We are sneaky and considerate at the same time in that way.

When you date a writer, everything is covered in chocolate-melted metaphors. You will never hear us say “I’m hungry.” But know that when we say “I woke up with an empty appetite” we are definitely not talking about food.

Dating a writer means you are at risk to being the subject of our piece 80% of the time. Even when we are writing about politics, or the latest designer bag, or Buddhism, or how cute chihuahuas are, we have the tendency to turn any topic to a reflection of you. (What? We changed your name!) For all you know, we have already started your autobiography the moment you asked us out.

Don’t worry about us publishing negative stories about you when our little thing fades. Unless you are an asshole, then yes! You should worry, a lot! Because in that case, there will be no changing names, and your full name will be written in bold, bloody letters from start to finish. Do not take this as a threat, we just want you to become a better person. It is for your best interest, really!

When you are dating a writer, watch your every move. We notice things that are not visible to the naked eye, like how you always roll down the window of your car on that specific curve on that specific bridge every single time. Or how you like sushi and hate wasabi. Or how you are keeping a dead body in your trunk.

If you really want to date a writer, tell us that you hate Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Convince us that it makes little to no sense how a cheap portrayal of puppy love and adolescent suicidal tendencies clamored in old english ‘thou art’ can even be considered an epic love story and you will forever hold a place in our hearts.

When you date a writer, you will always feel beautiful when we look at you. Under our scrutinizing eyes, you are the cunning Mr. Darcy, and we would like to be the remarkable Ms. Bennet. Past loves may have said something about your eyes or your body, but a writer who likes you just the same will notice the smirk on your face when you’re upset. Or the change in your tone when you’re down. We will memorize every single line that forms around your lips when you smile, every single scar, the length of your nails, even the deep furrows in your brow when you don’t agree to an opinion. We are creepy and romantic like that.

You must remember that when we are not writing, we are reading, and boy do we read between the lines! Every smiley, every punctuation means something more to us. An error-free text message can go a long way. It translates to how much effort you put in making sure your SMS will not get butchered down to a T.

On a serious note though, if you are reading this because a writer is currently crushing on you and you are not interested, just tell us. The nice thing about us is that we can handle rejection. Rejection is our middle name and we take it lightly. How many publishing houses do you think have turned us down before we got our first writing assignment? We’re used to putting out so much effort without getting anything in return. Come on, most of us even write for free! So, if you don’t like us, we’ll get over it. But if you do, we’ll appreciate you even more, and chances are, you’ll be one of the greatest characters ever written in an epic love story.

Should you decide to stick with a writer, there will always be meaning to every second, a thought behind every gesture, and climax to every situation. Though you may not fully comprehend the effort we put in, we hope that somehow, it will make you feel special and liked in return.

Now, dating a writer can be all of these things, or none of these things, and that is the riddle you’ll have to figure out on your own. It’s like your personal Choose Your Own Adventure kind of thing. The rest of the story is now up to you. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.

In a relationship with… myself

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To my closest friends who have become so worried about me being the only single girl in the group:

You guys are the best and you definitely know this. (I can’t remember how many times I have stressed this before!) I love you guys for always having my back and making sure that I am enjoying my time, and you know that I do! Which makes me wonder why, lately, it has been quite obvious that you’ve all started asking ‘what happened to me.’ As if I got an immune disease from a different universe.

Come on, it’s not like all of you guys are getting engaged or married, or was I sleeping when you announced the news? I’m pretty sure there were no wedding invitations in my mailbox the last time I checked. So, it’s not like I’m missing the boat or anything.

I know very well that you care for me just the way I care about you. You want me to be happy the way I always want you guys to be happy with your relationships. That’s what friendship is about, making sure that all of us are getting our ups when everything else is pulling us down. Believe me when I say that I get my daily dose of happy when I see your holiday pictures by the beach with your boyfriend/girlfriend. Even those cheesy banters you and your significant other exchanges on your Facebook walls seem cute to me when usually it would have made me irk.

I appreciate that you are observing and commenting about my love life (or the lack there of) as if I am a specimen under a microscope, but make no mistake–I am happy. Genuinely. And I mean every word.

On those Thursday nights that you are all bundled up in bed, cuddling with your babe/cupcake/honey/sweetheart/whatever-crazy-name-you-call-them while waiting for your pizza delivery, I’m not watching the worst ‘Lifetime’ movie, crying my eyeballs out, while I go hugging my cats. (You all know I’m not a cat person!)

On those nights, I’m out, smoking shisha, having a good amount of conversation with whoever you guys happen to be free, and if that’s no one, then I’m out, dancing the night away with my friends from salsa.


I know why I’m single. I know that there’s nothing “wrong” with me. (I’m perfect, the way you guys always remind me so.)

It’s just that the guys I happen to like are emotionally unavailable. And I wouldn’t just be with any guy who I am not attracted to and whose character does not appeal to me just because he is emotionally available (the bars are raised much higher now.) I am turning 26 this year, and here in Cairo, 88 percent of guys my age are already in relationships, getting engaged or are already engaged, getting married or are already married. The remaining 12 percent are guys who are most probably assholes, and if they are genuinely nice guys, I’m pretty sure we have different mindset and takes on life. Please don’t let me start talking about cultural differences, religious beliefs, political views and opposite mentalities. I have yet to meet a single guy my age living in Cairo whose definition of dating and/or relationship is equivalent to mine.

Being single at 26 isn’t something I should be worried about and neither should you. It doesn’t make me a lesser person. In fact, singledom is the major reason why my life feels so full at the moment. You guys of all people in the world would know how much of a workaholic and social butterfly I am. If I am in a relationship, do you think I’ll be able to travel when I want to? Go to the gym because I’m motivated to? Attend salsa parties because I love to? Write for three different magazines because I have the luxury of time to do so?

You can start worrying about me being single when I hit 35, (but you’ll probably be too busy worrying about your own family and kids then.) Until then, just chill and relax.



The bottom line is that I’m not actively looking for someone to share my Facebook relationship status with other than myself. (See how I have so much free time that I was actually able to create another Facebook profile because Facebook is too selfish to allow anyone to be in a relationship with themselves.) I am really enjoying my mid-20’s. I go to salsa parties every other night, I take myself out to expensive dinners because I deserve it. I have the time to read books and be inspired by the writers, to watch movies in an actual cinema, to spoil myself with presents and not feel guilty about it. I am taking this relationship hiatus as a beginning to a deeper relationship with myself. Everyday I am learning and discovering something new about myself. I challenge myself and feel proud when I live up to it.

Rest assured, when I meet someone who lives up to all my ideals and expectations, you’ll be the first to know. ‘Til then just be comfortable in the idea that I decided to give all the love I have to give to myself, and I don’t see any reason why not.

So, stop feeling sorry for me. There is no need to make it your personal goal to hook me up. No need to feel bad when you and your babe/cupcake/honey/sweetheart/whatever-crazy-name-you-call-them are out with me and I am not holding anyone’s hand, because I don’t need to be with someone just so I can hang out with you guys. No more double dates and enough of those blind dates. Instead, let’s plan our next group date, shall we?

Xoxo,
Jen.

Love sucks, for now

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Seriously, I am this close to blaming this wicked month for playing April Fool’s on my friends’ hearts–and the month hasn’t even ended yet!

I don’t know why I always find myself caught in between. It affects me when I get the news that my friends’ long-term relationship came to a halting end just like that–for the reason that it didn’t work out. (They’ve been together for practically over a year, and it’s only now they realized it’s not going anywhere?) Or that one of my friends got himself turned down by a girl he genuinely cared about, or that another friend caught her supposedly ever-so-loving boyfriend sleeping–with someone else–on her bed! Her bed! Different people, different stories, yet it all boils down to the exact, same thing–a broken heart.

They’re all recent victims, and the culprit is this deadly, four-letter-word we call love.

Oh, love, what have you done this time? Aren’t you supposed to bring happiness and contentment and all these butterflies-in-the-stomach bullshit? You were meant to make everyone feel high. Everyone assumes that whenever you are around, there will be nothing but passion, and romance, and lots of sex too. Instead, you started stabbing my friends behind their backs, leaving them bleeding for dead.

I am 101 percent positive that they are thinking that this is the worst break up/rejection/cheating ever, that nothing is going to make things right, that things won’t go back to normal and they will just be stuck here, in this black, depressing hole–for life. They’re also probably thinking that I need to shut up now because I have no goddamn idea what I am talking about, and they are right, until they aren’t.

No matter how embarrassing it is for me to admit it, I think that if there is one person who would have memorized every single, excruciating second one has to go through in a break up, everyone’s fingers will be pointed at me. I used to be that person inside that empty box. I was the one wallowing in sorrow. I was the girl who turned blind to any reason. My judgment was impaired. I used to be the one drowning in my own pain and thinking this is the end of me.

At the moment, there is absolutely nothing I can say or do that will make my friends’ pain go away. I can tell them that he’s an asshole, or that she’s a bitch. I can tell them that it will get better, that eventually they will be able to move on, that sooner or later they will meet the right person who deserves them and who they deserve. I can tell them that they will be able to love again, but this is a fruitless task because at this very moment, it will just be me talking in mute. Right now, they’ve all gone deaf to anything that I might have to say because right now they’re in the dark. There is no vodka, or pep talk, or feel good movie that can take away the hurt. For now.

Because for now, they are thinking and feeling and seeing things in grey. They’re all imagining ‘whatifs’, and asking that horrible question ‘why.’ Right now, love has stomped their egos so hard that they have been reduced to someone who has lost the person who meant most to them. They are grieving, and that’s perfectly understandable, for now.

Being cheated on, being rejected, or broken up with, I’ve been through all those hells before and I’m so familiar at how much it sucks. I know how terrible and terrified they must be feeling right now, and I can only hope that soon, they will realize that good things actually come out from heartaches. Experience, for one. Later, they’ll be able to look back at their previous relationship and know what went wrong. They’ll start realizing that he or she wasn’t really that great (I wouldn’t be writing this right now if those people who meant the world to my friends were actually awesome.) Soon, they will realize that they have the power to actually get out of a bad, unhealthy relationship. They will realize there is no point in being with someone who takes them for granted, or that it is futile to be in a relationship clouded by lies and mistrust. I’m sure right now, they feel weak and vulnerable, but it only takes some time for strength to come out of them, because the best thing about heartache, is that once they get their sanity back, they have survived it!

We are all fighting the same fight and we will not be defeated (no matter how much they think their life is over at this very moment.)

I’m sure that eventually, my friends will be able to move on, just the way I did. No matter how cliche I may sound, I’m a living proof that life goes on, that we can recover no matter how deep we are into sinking. That we can be happy (if not happier) again. That no matter how disillusioned we were at love, at one point or another we will find the courage to love again, and this time it will be much better because of all the lessons and experience from our challenging past. Heartaches make us know better–what we really deserve, what we want out of a relationship, how we want it to start and grow. We know that next time, we won’t be with someone mediocre who will tell us that it’s just not working, or who will end up half-assing our self-worth, because now we know that the next time we’ll be in a relationship (whenever that may be,) it will be with someone worthwhile.

I have a crush? When did that happen? Part 3

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This would have been part 6 if I wasn’t feeling so selfish.

I feel so oddly strange. I mean, whenever something good happens to me, I’m always the one to pool my friends together so I can tell them stories of what’s happening to me, what’s new (especially when it comes to my love department which, as of now, still amounts to zero.)

I like to think that better things (or rather a better bond or friendship) is happening between me and this guy I call my crush. But for some reason, I am not so keen into telling anyone (I can hear you yelling that I’m contradicting myself considering how I am writing this in a public domain.)

Maybe this is me being selfish in a way that I like to keep our friendship to myself. Or maybe this is me choosing to be on the safe side, not wanting my girlfriends to think or expect that it can potentially turn into something more when I am sure it is unlikely to get there, not even close. Maybe I am just thinking that should I tell any of my friends about this crush, the world will play another brutal joke and send all its hexes down my way to jinx my supposedly happy-ever-after. Or, maybe, I take pleasure in knowing that I have a secret that no one knows about.

I have a secret and it’s all mine! Boy, I love that feeling. For the first time, I have something (whatever it is, I’ll leave you to bits until you raise your white flag on this guessing game) that not even my dearest friends know of.

Do you know why Mona Lisa is such a phenomenon even though, realistically speaking, there are far more amazing women painted on a canvas? I think it’s because of her smile. She has that smile so coy that seems to trick everyone to thinking she knows something that we don’t.

Well, needless to say, I feel that I am having that Mona Lisa moment right now. I am smiling, and I will leave you to your imagination as to why.

Surprisingly, I still want to get to know him more, and deeper. It seems there is still so much to know about this guy, and so much to learn from him as well. Everyday, I feel that I am surrounded with people who are so consumed by themselves, but I get the feeling that he is different, he’s a breath of fresh air.

Often, I meet people who likes to please (or impress) me, who tells me things I like to hear, who agrees to everything that I say (not realizing that I am only testing where their judgments lie.) Or often, I meet people who are so stuck up, and full of themselves–who would enjoy a conversation only if it is about them and nothing else, but he is not like that.

He doesn’t tell me things I like to hear. He is outright honest. His opinions are his, not copied from or influenced by anyone. He tells me when I’m wrong, and he will blatantly say that I am being mean. That, in itself, keeps me grounded.

He is very realistic and detached, two qualities that are the total opposite of my idealistic and emotional take on life. I look at him and see this person who is not feigned, even slightly, by the littlest or biggest problems of life.

I am envious of his pragmatic sensibility. It is something that I have always successfully fail to master. Sometimes, I wish I could care less. And when I meet someone who makes me reevaluate my take on life, I know he is someone worth knowing.

As much as I’d like to make my crush sound like a battery-operated robot, I hate to break this into you, but he is everything but that. There are no on and off switch buttons. Sometimes I think he likes to think that he’s the most serious, non-expressive guy in the world, but he doesn’t realize he can be one of the funniest too. I don’t think I’ll be able to put up with someone who has a non-existent sense of humor.

Our inside jokes? How riveting! Our dialogues will fall on the lines of ‘Five-second Tom, you are tramposo, but good night and happy new year.’ I’m not sure what other people will make sense out of that, but it does make perfect sense to me. It’s something distinctly him and I. He gets me, and I get him.

He surprises me even when he doesn’t know it. When I am so certain that he is just a dull guy with a huge science background, he comes surprising me with his sharp wit and creative side. That’s what he does, he takes the right turn when I am so convinced he will take the left. He proves me right, he proves me wrong.

There are still a lot of things I want to know. I want to know what ticks him, what sends him off. I want to know things that is not common knowledge to everyone. I want to know how his week went, not because I am a crazy-creepy-stalker. It just gives me a sense of relief knowing that someone I care about is doing well. I want to know how he got that scar (oh, wait, I forgot I already know how!)

I want him to let me know him, but for this to work, he has to let me cut him open and trust that I will not accidentally hit a nerve. And I hope that he will, because when I look at him, I see someone who makes clear sense. I see a blip–someone who understands my jokes, who corrects me when I’m wrong, someone who makes me smile the way Mona Lisa does.

It’s all fucked up, why make it complicated? And everything else that makes/breaks it

Standard

I have a friend, let’s call him Tarek (not his real name.) The girl who told him she loves him recently just told him that she is now in a relationship with someone else.

Go figure.

I asked Tarek how his heart is (although we all know it’s the oxytocin hormone and pituitary gland in our brains that’s damn responsible for feeling love and other emotions.)

He said he’s ok. He said he likes the girl but it still hasn’t grown to love at that point.

I asked him if he was hurt when she told him the big news, and I was blown away with Tarek’s answer.

“I would have been hurt, but she made it so easy for me not to be hurt.”

Whistles and cheers! Way to go, Tarek!

I don’t know anything about the girl, but I find myself in deep thinking about the situation.

How is it possible to tell someone you love him and take it back the very next day?

Ok, maybe I can still deal with that, but what I refuse to deal with is someone telling a guy she loves him and then telling him without even a pause of a warning that she fell in love with someone else.

And to make things worse, that someone else is also another good friend of mine (at least I warned you that it’s all fucked up!)

Let’s call this other friend Samy (not his real name, of course!) I spoke to him recently about the messed up situation he is in. He started liking this girl and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. What is wrong about his feeling of liking is, perhaps, the timing.

I told Samy that there are a few possibilities in this situation (which now seems like a laboratory experiment to me.) It’s possible that this girl fell out of love with Tarek and is genuine about her feelings for Samy, or she is just using Samy to make Tarek jealous and make him realize her importance in Tarek’s life. It is also a possibility that she is using her past friendship with Tarek to make Samy think that she is quite a catch–that there are other guys who can easily be interested to her. I told Samy that whatever is the case, it is a chance that he will have to gamble.

The interesting part in this story, is that in all this fiasco, I find myself having the omniscient god power. I know what is going on between the two men involved, I know Tarek’s version of the story as equally as I do Samy’s version.

I am standing in a neutral line though. I am not siding with anyone, but I listen and voice my opinion when asked. I am just someone from the outside looking in and I have drawn out a couple conclusions of my own.

The first conclusion I have is that this girl is lucky–there are two equally amazing guys who like her sincerely. Second conclusion is that I would never want to be in her position no matter how lucky she is.

I can’t, in any way, imagine myself telling a guy I love him and then telling him the next day ‘oopsy daisy, I was just kidding!’

One reason I know I will never trade myself in that situation is because our actions display the kind of person we are. What does that make of you? What does your action say about you? That you are extremely confused? Fickle minded? You don’t know what you want?

Why would we want to be with someone who is confused, undecided, and fickle in the first place?

When I hear stories like this happening, my beliefs in love slowly turns into a disillusion. The once statement becomes a question. All of a sudden you start doubting the sincerity of romantic love, even when it’s coming from someone who owns a special spot in your heart. It is unfair to love because stories like Tarek’s and Samy’s strip love all the enchantment and the romance it deserves. And you are left wondering whether love has been transformed to just a game adults play.

‘Make him jealous, put him to a mortal combat arena with a street fighter. Whoever gets a knockout wins.’

I hate mind games.

I am not someone who will wait three days after the first date to call that person (that’s just some bullshit cheap movies taught men about dating.) I am not someone who will make the guy I like jealous so he can realize how awesome I am by putting in his face that there are other guys who would break an arm to be in his place (in the first place, why would you like someone who doesn’t think you’re awesome, or who will only realize you’re awesomeness once he knows you’re almost gone?) I am not someone who will lead you on to thinking that I like you if I don’t–that goes to saying I am not one who will trick you to thinking I don’t like you when, in fact, I do.

Girls shouldn’t be with terribly mediocre guys the way guys shouldn’t be with terribly mediocre girls.

Stories like this make it seem that we all have lost our minds. What happened to thinking before we act especially when it comes to people we supposedly care about? It seems that some people can easily blurt out that four-letter word without putting a single thought to it.

Come on, I confess to being emotional and romantic but even I think that gone are the days of love at first sight.

Love is something that needs nurturing. It doesn’t happen overnight. You cannot fall in love with someone without knowing who they really are, the way you cannot fall out of love with someone in a snap of a finger. It takes time, and sometimes, you need to give time some time!

It always fascinates me how some people seem to rush in love. If it is meant to last forever, why rush? Forever is such a long time that you’ll start getting bored of each other if
you are speeding 160mph on the highway to falling in love.

What’s wrong with enjoying the now? What is wrong with enjoying the friendship you have started with someone for the time being? What is wrong with taking your time to really getting to know that other person? What is wrong with slowing things down and taking little steps into appreciating the girl or the guy you might (not will!) potentially fall in love with. Emphasis on might!

It makes me roll my eyes when I hear some girls talk about how they just want to be with whichever guy and they are just so eager to put that ‘in a relationship with’ status on facebook after only a few weeks of going out. It makes me roll my eyes because I used to be one of those girls. I used to be one to rush into being labeled as ‘we’ or ‘us.’

If there is anything I learned out of my previous relationships (and I swear I am whole-heartedly thanking all my ex-boyfriends for this) it is that there is no short cut or express pass to love.

It’s funny how, now, when I hear my friends say they are really, madly in love with this person that they just started going out with, I can’t help myself but ask them if they’ve already smelt that person’s fart. They would all give me the same disgusted look. It never fails!

Well, I’m just saying, you can only truly love someone after you’ve seen (or, in this case, smelt) their ugly and still decide you want to be with that person.

Like I said, there are no shortcuts. There are no fast forward buttons. You wouldn’t want to jump to the last page of a book to find out how it will end because you know it will only spoil the gratifying experience of reading a story from start to finish.

You wouldn’t demand to get in a roller coaster ride if you plan on skipping the loops and the thrill of screaming your lungs out.

It’s a long, tedious process. There will be bumps and crossroads ahead. And who knows, at one point you and that other person might decide to go the same direction or take different routes. It might not grow into love, but if you take your time, you can be sure it will grow into friendship, and that friendship will exist even when you’re both heading to different ways. So come on, stop speeding your way to the destination when you can enjoy the getting lost and the getting there (wherever that maybe.)