PMS: Beauty & The Beast

As if being a woman weren’t hard enough, we had to be “cursed” with “that time of the month” as well. And as if men didn’t complain about us enough, they have an extra reason to do that every month for the rest of our lives (or until menopause at least) – and by then we’d all be too old to bother talking, let alone arguing.
Since “rivalry” and confusion between men and women has existed long before the invention of the cheese sandwich, I decided to clarify (in my opinion) why women are monsters during the wonderful days of PMS (Pre-menstrual syndrome).

As much as women like to complain about it, I think that deep down we are all thankful for having a few days a month where we have a good excuse to behave as we please; and we can be as mean, angry, annoyed, and fussy as we want. A lady must act like a lady at all times (I try to keep it at a good 50-50, for my sanity’s sake); it’s hard work – especially when we watch men walk around topless, scratch their balls, spit in public, pee at the side of the road, burp, fart, smell bad, etc. And all though that type of behavior is absolutely disgusting (even for men), they are allowed to do it – for them, it’s justified. Although it will never be acceptable for women to act that way, and although we don’t care to act that way either, that type of liberation does create some feelings of envy in us. So when PMS-ing, we can complain from dusk till dawn, and although those around us may be contemplating how to kill us, they can’t do anything about it since our behavior is justified – it’s a privilege (and a curse) that can’t be taken away from us.

I have heard time and time again about how Ms. PMS is late, is cranky, has cramps, has cravings, is in pain, is tired, and wishes to stab her boyfriend or husband 5 times in the face (why? why not!). For the remainder of the month, she absolutely adores her man – the simple thought of him makes her smile; but during this time, his face represents all that is ugly and awful in the world. His voice makes her heart beat faster (and I don’t mean that in a good or romantic way), his actions (whether romantic gestures or routine behavior) make her want to cry with misery (or turn into King Kong and climb a building). Why? I believe it’s the price men have to pay (just for being men).

No matter how great you are as a man, stay away from a PMS-ing woman; or if you insist on being around her, simply ignore the beast and everything she says and/or does for that duration (although I must warn you – that will piss her off even more). How can you win in this situation? You can’t.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/lifestyle/cultural/la-wlooo-pms-beauty-the-beast/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Lazy "Lebanese" Ladies

I remember reading somewhere that the year 2010 would witness “the rise of the female entrepreneur”, and many of my friends and acquaintances have indeed lived up to that claim and proved to those around them that you do not need to have a penis in order to be hardworking and independent. This made me take a glance at where I stood in this: after graduating 3 years ago, I jumped right into the employment scene; slaving away 12 hours a day, 5 days a week for over 2 years until I decided I needed a break, just to remember what the sun felt like on my skin and what oxygen felt like in my lungs.

During my break, I decided that I wanted to become an entrepreneur as well, and that is what I have oh so slowly been working on for the past few months. Whenever I am in doubt or hesitant, I force myself to remember when I was jealous of all those unemployed girls I know that could go to the beach any time they wanted, travel randomly when their hearts desired, and stay up every night till the break of dawn until I became one of them and realized that it is not a privilege, but a curse; because laziness inevitably brings one thing: more laziness (and consequently, uselessness).

I also realized not many girls enjoy working . . . at all. Instead, some graduate from university and claim not to be able to find a job; and some graduate and start looking for the next best thing: a “rich” husband. They believe that it is only a man’s job to make money and build a career.

Me: “Why aren’t you working?”

Useless Post-Grad: “Oh I haven’t found anything yet.”

Me: “How long have you been searching?”

Useless Post-Grad: “I’m not (because I am a coward who is terrified of failure).”

Me: “Oh . . . OK (loser), how come?”

Useless Post-Grad: “I have a severe case of Post-Graduation Depression.”

Me: “You have post-what?!”

The worst part about lying is when you start believing it yourself. “Post-Graduation Depression”, Ha! I wish these hopeless cases would
stop searching for “smarter” ways to camouflage their actual problem; instead they should say “I am refusing to acknowledge that I am a lazy loser who is a waste of space and an even bigger ungrateful waste of my parents’ support, time, and money. I am also getting tired of searching for a rich man to support me financially (I need to get those new Gucci shoes or life as I know it, will end), so please God, help me win more time to come up with yet another lame excuse for why I am such a useless burden (or better yet, please find me that
rich husband, really fast!).” The saddest part is that when Ms. Useless Post-Grad was still in university, she bragged to everyone about how she will become a big shot when she graduates. Aah . . . she talks the talk but can’t walk the walk, tsk tsk.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/lifestyle/cultural/la-wlooo-lazy-lebanese-ladies

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Broken-Hearted Girls

Following last week’s “Broken-Hearted Boys”, here’s a little heartbreak insight for the ladies. I will only mention the top two scenarios I hear about the most (and wish to never hear about, ever again).

Scenario Number 1: The Slithery Slimy Rico Suave
You meet your “Prince Charming” – he is Mr. Perfect; the handsome (vain), sweet-talking (lying), charismatic (patiently awaiting sex), suave (sly), mysterious man you’ve always dreamed of (the reason he’s so mysterious is because he’s a liar – wake up women).  A few weeks into it, while you’re telling your friends he’s your boyfriend, he’s telling his friends you’re his “friend” (with a wink); and while you’re falling for the reptile, he’s busy finding a way out.

What he said: Absolutely nothing.

(Translation: He stopped answering your calls and started ignoring you because, a) he doesn’t care, or b) he’s a disrespectful and cowardly swine.)
What he meant: “Please don’t call me. Forget about me. I don’t like or want you anymore and I assume that by not calling you, you’ll understand and never bother me again.”

Your question is: “Oh my GOD! What happened? I need to know! Why did he leave? I need my closure or I can’t move on! Nag! Nag! Nag!”  (Seriously?)

Your question should be: “Why am I still sulking over a man-whore who dumped me in such a disrespectful way? He doesn’t respect me, but don’t I respect myself?”

The verdict: He wanted to have fun with you, either to forget an ex-girl friend or simply because he’s “just not ready for a relationship” (i.e. he is, but not with you). When he realized that you are so stupidly in love with him, he felt choked and decided to run away like the mouse that he is. There are two scenarios:
a) He wanted to have sex, you didn’t, so he left to find someone else to answer to his needs.
b) He wanted to have sex, you gave him what he wanted (quicker than you could say “Hi, How are you?”) so he got bored (no more “thrill of the chase”) and left.

Whatever the reason, it would have never worked out because he wasn’t in a relationship mindset. Forget about him; don’t call or stalk him – it’s called preserving your dignity!

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/lifestyle/cultural/la-wlooo-broken-hearted-girls/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Dates From Hell Part III: The Shakespearean Alien‏

The third and final installment for “Dates From Hell” is by yet another one of my dear girl friends. This one is more like “The Relationship from Hell” (or from outer space), but it is also sadly true. I hope you enjoy this true horror story.

 The Shakespearean Alien

When Dr. Jekyll (the jack ass) met Fifi, there were no sparks; there were no rainbows (or fireworks or music or butterflies or anything) – there was a suicide threat. Let me explain, when Dr. Jekyll asked Fifi out on a date, Fifi refused, so Dr. Jekyll sent her a suicide message that went something like this:

My dearest Fifi,
From the moment I met you (24 hours ago), something changed in my heart, body, and soul. You have changed my life. My very existence depends on yours. In other words, if you do not want to exist in my life, I do not want to exist at all.
Yours truly,
Dr. Jekyll

Fifi was quite freaked out, but being the good-hearted (naive) person that she is, she agreed to go out on a date with him so that he refrains from committing suicide.

After their first (boring to death) date, Fifi decided that she will not go on date number 2 – she thanked Dr. Jekyll and explained to him that she does not want to date anyone at the moment.
Dr. Jekyll responded with yet another suicidal, pity-inducing message:

Dear Fifi,
How could you be so cruel? I have lost my will to live. I have succumbed to starvation as I sleep alone in the garage of my village home. I have come across photos and objects that reminded me of my childhood (huh?!). I would like to share them with you. I would like to rest my head on your lap and weep (yes folks, the dude said “weep”). It is now evident that this will never be possible so I bid you farewell as I will be leaving this world soon (yeah return to your planet you freak of nature).
Best Regards, 

Dr. Jekyll

Once again, Fifi the fool felt guilty and could not allow Dr. Jekyll to hurt himself and that is how their boring, longer than life relationship began (and never seemed to end). Fifi, who was known as the life of the party, became the most boring person on earth (to better suit Dr. Jekyll). She slowly lost all her friends, and this nourished the beast within Dr. Jekyll, preparing him to transform into Mr. Hyde.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo/

 I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Dates From Hell Part II: The Loser, Loner, Wannabe-Ghetto Boy

As men are proudly patting each other’s backs for being players and “maniaks”, I am busy spending long hours on the phone with my girl friends, laughing and listening to their horror stories about the not so “maniak” guys. This is Dates from Hell, Part II (also based on facts).

The Loser, Loner, Wannabe-Ghetto Boy

Feeling lonelier than ever, Marsha decided to take a different approach to dating. This time, with Jimbo, a guy younger than her by 7 years, who faked having everything from an education and a job, to a social life and friends. In other words, he is the real life version of the 40-year-old virgin (except he’s much younger, much uglier, and way higher on the loser scale).

Fast forward to the end of their terrific (a.k.a. horrific) first date (possibly Jimbo’s first date ever), Marsha tells Jimbo that she’d rather not go with him to the beach the next day because she is at that time of the month.

Jimbo: “WHAT?!?! Are you insulting my intelligence?!”

Marsha: “No I am not. Just go with your friends . . .”

Jimbo interrupts her by covering his ears and,

Jimbo: “LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LAAAAA, I can’t hear youuuuu!”

Marsha blinks in awe as she holds back a chuckle.

Jimbo: “I don’t need to go with my friends, I don’t have or want any friends, I passed that stage already – you are my friend, Marsha, my best friend.”

Marsha is terrified at this point because she has finally realized the level of retardation she is dealing with.

Marsha: “Umm . . . ok, Jimbo, you’re going to drop me home now.”

Jimbo ignores her remark and drives her off to a distant remote area (possibly the ghetto where he was raised).

Jimbo: “Listen up YO, don’t you f*** with me now YO! I ain’t down with that, YO!

Marsha screams at the top of her lungs.
Jimbo finally drops her home.

Is it finally over? No.

 At a common friend’s wedding, Marsha arrives wearing a stunning dress, the venue is magical (like a Cinderella setting), and all that’s missing is the prince – that’s where Mr. Jimbo pops in. Marsha manages to drink herself into oblivion; Jimbo senses this and runs over to her to continue mentally harassing her. He introduces her to all his family as his girlfriend and future wife. At this point Marsha is brain-dead from intoxication and is susceptible to everything happening around her, including dancing with the butt monkey. Jimbo manages to steal the limelight and the first dance from the newly-weds, and halfway through the spot lit dancing, Jimbo begins to twirl Marsha. She truly enjoys this until she realizes that all the wedding guests are gawking at her butt cheeks, so she angrily asks Jimbo to put her down.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-dates-from-hell-part-ii-the-loser-loner-wannabe-ghetto-boy/

 

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Dates From Hell Part I: The Stingy Brad Pitt

Back by popular demand, I decided to write about some more “dates from hell” stories, but this time, as told by some of my girl friends and divided into 3 parts. (Based on 100% true stories)

The Stingy Brad Pitt

When Powerpuff met Brad, she found him to be quite the good looking charmer. On their first date, Brad decides to take her to a beach resort but he asks Powerpuff to pick him up (how charming) because his car is at the garage. As they arrive to the beach resort, they both proceed to pay the entrance fees. Powerpuff offers to pay her share of course – out of politeness. Without arguing, Brad takes the money from her (Powerpuff assumes that he is trying to avoid a public display of “take my money, no, please, bla” and that he would discreetly sneak it back into her bag later). Instead, Brad blatantly shoves the money into his wallet (Ahem, this is a FIRST DATE!! Who does that?!). After getting over her shock, Powerpuff decides that it is no big deal, and continues with the “date”, which mainly consisted of Brad yapping and bragging about nothing:

Brad: “I am so sick of my car. I want to sell it and buy a new BMW, What do you think?”

Powerpuff: “Umm…I guess your car is OK (and I don’t bloody care!!).”
*Attempting to change the conversation*
“Where did you go to school, Brad?”

Brad: “I studied in Europe (said Mr. Pretentious), and now I am finishing my M.B.A. at a university here in Lebanon.”
(Huh?! Isn’t it usually the other way around??)

Powerpuff: “…..”

After their enthralling “conversation”, Brad’s friend magically pops up and lingers around them for about an hour. Powerpuff can’t figure out what would be more torturing: listening to their boring conversation until her ears explode or staring at the sun until her eyes burn. Brad announces that he is starving and they all agree to eat. Brad’s friend recommends a certain restaurant at the resort because it is “affordable” – Brad is delighted. (Affordable: a word not to be used on a first date.)

As they sit down to eat, Brad’s brother joins them, and Brad introduces Powerpuff as his girlfriend. Brad orders a hamburger, his brother orders a jumbo meal, and Powerpuff orders the most insignificant sandwich on the menu. When their food arrives, Brad realizes that his burger is accompanied by potato wedges instead of french fries. He insists on calling the waitress and making her life hell:

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-dates-from-hell-part-i-the-stingy-brad-pitt/

 

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Man! Make Her Feel Like a Woman!

1. You complain she’s a gold digger, yet you take out a car loan to flaunt your expensive ride and live a showoff-ish lifestyle that you can barely afford because “that’s the only way she’ll ever look at you” – Ha! Well, what kind of girl were you expecting? The saddest part is, some men end up marrying these women. It’s simple, if you want someone true, keep it real!

2. You are NOT her father! You should never tell her how to dress, talk, eat, or laugh. Never tell her who she can’t talk to, and don’t smother her with constant phone calls when she’s out with friends. She has a brain of her own and knows her boundaries – if she doesn’t, then she’s not the girl for you.

3. You are not her bodyguard; if there’s a guy who is up in her business, she can take care of it – and don’t interfere unless she asks you to. There is nothing more vulgar than a guy starting a public fight to defend HIS macho ego.

4. A little jealousy is nice – too much is borderline psychotic. You have no right to accuse her of being a whore because she has male friends – it’s not like she is fornicating with them for Pete’s sake! When in doubt, hear her side of the story before transforming into the mighty Hulk.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wloo0-man-make-her-feel-like-a-woman/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

How To Lose a Guy in 10 Ways

To all you ladies out there who ever wondered why a certain relationship didn’t work out for you, I am sure you can relate to at least 3 of the following – sadly enough, I can relate to at least 5!

To all you men out there, I am pretty sure you’ll enjoy reading this more than the ladies, but it’s your turn next week. Read on:

1. You’re a part of your man’s life, you’re not his universe. He has friends and family that he’s known before you were born; so if you cannot accept it, go get the extra attention from your parents.

2. So what if he’s the guy? It wouldn’t hurt you to invite him to dinner every once in a while and offer to pay or split the bill a few times. Being a selfish princess is not sexy anymore.

3. If you’re a lady, he’ll be a gentleman – it is the simple truth. I do not see anything healthy about how couples here play dirty mind games on each other. It is tiring and definitely cannot last forever.

4. You are NOT his mother. If he wants to drive like a maniac, drink beer till he vomits, or stay up all night playing poker, it is not your responsibility to scold him about it. You can either accept him for the immature infant that he is, or break up with him and find yourself a real man.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-how-to-lose-a-guy-in-10-ways/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

And Then Man "Evolved" Into Ape

It starts with Harry meeting Sally. Sally is not very interested at first but figures, “what the heck have I got to lose?” (Well Sally, you are in for a lovely surprise). Harry detects that he is more interested than Sally so he tries his best to woo her by calling every day, talking to her on the phone for hours, picking her up, taking her out to nice dinners, taking care of the bill, introducing her to his circle of friends, family members, doing those little sweet gestures that would melt any girl’s heart, and then blah. 

By blah, I mean everything else that follows when Harry’s mask comes off. As Lana Turner once said, “A gentleman is simply a patient wolf”. Every man will pretend to be the perfect guy until he a) gets bored, b) gets what he wants (and this could range from sex, to falling in love, to getting it up his ass), or c) gets COMFORTABLE. Once Harry secures Sally’s interest and realizes that she is just as interested as he is (or maybe more), he will start to act comfortable (and by comfortable, I mean he will transform into a complete disgusting and inconsiderate slob/pig/primate). In this blog entry, I would like to emphasize on the signs of comfort – To state a few:

Harry starts calling less: apparently now, he has more work, less time, and has to sleep earlier – he will even give Sally the “my phone bill was too high last month”. (Umm, why wasn’t this a problem before?) My advice to Harry here is, maintain the same frequency from the beginning because Sally’s ears are never pleased to hear that a phone bill is more important than calling her. Further into the relationship, Sally requires more attention from Harry, not less (you morons).

Harry tells Sally to meet him instead of going to pick her up: is petrol the issue now? Not quite. He just can’t be bothered because he is not aiming to please anymore – he knows that silly Sally will get into her car and drive all the way to see his sorry ass. What Harry doesn’t know, is that Sally now prefers driving down in her car so that she can leave whenever she starts feeling like castrating or beheading hairy Harry.

Harry starts burping and farting in front of Sally: This is a complete NO-NO!!!  Although Sally is a burper herself and enjoys it, most girls DON’T. This brings me to FARTING; I am sure no girl on the planet will tolerate that, not even silly Sally.
For example, Jockstrap eventually started releasing gas in front of me and was certain that I should be honored to bask in the ambiance of his farts because I was one of the chosen few that he could be himself around (please do NOT be yourself in this case) – no girl is looking to date a Homer Simpson.
Sadly enough, Harry does think that Sally should be flattered when he does this because it means he is comfortable (Congratulations Sally, Harry is now a pig). Ok Harry, this may come as a shock to you, but horrible odors have never been and will never be flattering to Sally’s ego, you idiot. The boys may find this charming, but Sally is a girl – if you are aiming to charm men, please switch to dating them instead and make the world a better place.

Harry prefers staying in with Sally: Instead of taking Sally out to dinner and a movie, Harry prefers staying in to scratch his balls and ass, order food, and watch some boring as frick DVD. His way of saying it would be, “I feel like cuddling up on the couch with you tonight – no people around, just you and I” - Remember that anything with a penis cannot be this honest or gay. Sally personally loves staying in and renting a DVD and ordering food, but unfortunately, this scenario has only gone in one direction for Sally: Harry falls asleep, snoring, while watching the movie as Sally plays Sudoku, wishing that she were at the beach with someone that looks like Gerard Butler.
Harry complains about how Sally stopped fixing herself up for him when they reached a certain level of comfort. Well, Sally doesn’t exactly enjoy walking around in 7 inch heels all the time, wearing mascara, blush, and tight clothes – if Harry wants Sally to dress up, he should make sure there is an occasion that makes it worthwhile!

Harry’s actions don’t support his words: Harry probably watches too many movies so he learns a lot of lines and thus, says the sweetest words - yet he does the stupidest, most awful things (how comfortable/lazy has Harry become?). It’s very simple: Sally should never listen to a single word Harry says, she should pay attention to what he does instead. Men used to wage wars, invade countries, and cross oceans to win a woman’s heart – all we’re left with now are Pansies who think that a bouquet of roses and three cheesy words “I love you” would suffice (excuse me while I vomit).

Harry becomes the king of pathetic excuses: for every stupid thing he does, there’s an even stupider excuse for why he did it. Mind you, Harry is either genuinely stupid, or he is faking his stupidity because he believes that in fact, Sally is.
For example, I once called Couscous and he didn’t call back until half a day later. At that point I had semi-lost my mind and was sure that he was cheating. His excuse was, “if I called my mother and she didn’t pick up, I wouldn’t think she’s cheating, would I? Would I?!” (SERIOUSLY?!?!)

Okay now boys, there is one thing you must understand: if you want your woman to continue being a lady around you (and not become your mother) you must not turn into a child, and you must NEVER compare her to your mother. No woman enjoys babysitting and NO woman enjoys mama’s boys or Man-ginas (a man with a vagina).

After Harry has transformed into the infant that is himself, there’s no turning back unless he realizes that Sally has lost all her love and respect for him. Sally has unfortunately come to realize at this point of her life that the minute she starts respecting a man, he stops respecting her – and the moment she truly starts to love him, he will stop loving her.

T.I.I.R.D. and I decided to take things slow. According to me (and anyone with a brain), that involves taking baby steps in every aspect: whether it’s emotional or physical. After a couple of months of “dating” T.I.I.R.D., the phone calls kept decreasing, and whenever he called he would say the cheesiest, corniest, most sexual things (this is a very big Turn-off boys!) and I realized that he wanted to take everything slow except the physical part. (Here’s a word of advice boys, stimulate a girl’s mind before you start groping her with your crazy hands!). Naturally, I was so appalled and so I decided to have a little discussion with him to inform him that I’ll be staying away from his crazy hands from now on. His rebuttal was, “we are not on the same level and I cannot be one-dimensional”. If there are any retards that can translate that for me, I’d be very grateful because no guy is allowed to say something that stupid. After hearing that, I felt like I was 13 again in the play ground while my boyfriend’s best friend is trying to break up with me on his behalf. Mind you, T.I.I.R.D. is a genuinely good guy – so imagine my shock and disappointment. (What is this world coming to?!)

When I was younger, my relationships were a lot more successful than they are now simply because I didn’t care and had no respect for any guy I know. At some point, I decided that it’s disrespectful to treat men like dirt, so I started respecting the man I’m with and focused on giving and not only receiving. That backfired because I forgot one major fact: men love to suffer –they love bitches, whether they want to admit it or not. I have always made fun of the younger generation of girls that I know, but as King Kong once told me, these are the girls that are doing it right - they are beautiful, selfish, materialistic, superficial, and ungrateful. The biggest proof I have is that all the good girls I know are single and all the bitches are either in relationships, engaged, or married.
Whatever happened to being a lady and getting a gentleman versus being a bitch and getting an asshole?  . . . . (?!?!?!?!)
So, why do men love bitches? Simply because they’re dogs (or wish they were).

“As long as you know men are like children, you know everything!” Coco Chanel

From Dating to Darting

 

For many people in Lebanon who are searching for “The One”, the term dating is not so popular or should I say, understood. You are either single or in a relationship.

On the other hand, I, among many others, prefer dating first before deciding on whether or not to be “officially involved with the person in the eyes of the general public.” This process prevents you from being labeled as a jumper: “someone who jumps from one relationship to the next”, as Genius once told me after one of my break ups.

Sadly enough, the dating game has turned into a darting game for me, where I constantly find myself unable to resist darting out of the door the very minute my “Date” starts eating, talking, or trying to woo me. As excruciating as it is though, dating is still an essential stage to determine who is worthy of holding your hand, or who is remaining a name on your phone book.

My top three dates from hell (from the ones I recall) are as follows:

Once I was on a double date (that’s how hesitant I was) with Kung Fu Panda, and he was eating so fast and so furiously that he broke into a sweat! I could swear that I saw his neck pulsating and about to explode. I offered him some napkins and asked him to take a break before he chokes himself to death. The other couple could not resist laughing, and he could not resist devouring the last of his food. As disgusted as I was, I decided to finish dinner, simply for the sake of being polite – it was the correct thing to do after all, right? WRONG! After quite a few glasses of wine, he decided to make a detour instead of dropping me home to go up to a certain Monastery and pray! (Forgive me God) but what was he thinking?! As I stood there in shock, smoking my cigarette and trying not to crack up laughing, He gave me an evil stare that said “you are a horrible person and you are going straight to hell.” Yes, I was the one being judged after that wonderful evening.

During another splendid evening, I was having dinner with Jock Strap when he asked me to pick the wine. As I knew more about wine than he did, I began to browse through the wine list until I found the perfect bottle. To our dismay, the waiter informed us that the wine was unavailable and suggested another wine that should be to our liking. As I disagreed, Jock Strap insisted on trying that ridiculously over priced bottle because “his lady deserves the best”. To my lack of surprise, the wine was terrible. I continued my meal with a Coca Cola light, and did not even attempt to insult my taste buds with that sickening acid-like red liquid. On the other hand, Jock Strap made sure to finish the bottle down to the last drop while trying to convince me to drink it up as well – I resisted all attempts.
As the bill arrived, he pulled out his mobile phone and began calculating each and every item thoroughly and after a good 3 minutes of painstaking investigation, he uttered these lovely words, “you just had to order the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu now, didn’t you? Didn’t you? – Ha Ha Ha”. I was baffled, shocked, and horrified. I insisted on paying the bill and reminded him that it was his decision to order the wine in question, to which he responded, “I would never let a lady pay!” and there you have it!

Another horror story involved a colleague who I got reacquainted with. Tiny Tim picked me up in a very big car, and upon stepping out of it, I lost him. He was short to the extent that I could have probably rested my elbow at the top of his head. I was fresh out of a relationship and still in love/heartbroken so I made it clear to Tiny Tim that I am just interested in making new friends (he would have to be at least 1 meter taller to qualify for a potential boyfriend). During dinner, he started glaring at my watch and then said something that he must have thought was super smart, “That watch is from your Ex, isn’t it?” I told him it is, thinking nothing more of the subject.
Into the evening it seemed like he had something new and enlightening to say, so I asked him why he was turning purple and that was when he exploded. “How could you still be wearing a watch from your ex-boyfriend? Who do you think I am? I will not allow my woman to insult me like this. If I am important to you, you will throw it away now and I will buy you a new and very expensive one instead”, he blurted. Clearly I could not and did not react. I simply asked him to order the bill – anything I would further say or do would be of no significance because the psycho was apparently already convinced that we were soon to be engaged.
His final words to me as he was driving me home were, “WHY?! WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME? I am rich, good looking, and every girl I know would die to be with me!” I cried with laughter that night.

I have learnt that in the matters of the heart, taking things slowly and living each stage at a time will always provide better chances at succeeding.
Everyone is weird, and we each have a unique weirdness about us. Some weirdness is cute, even magnetic, but letting it all out too soon is just too much to digest. Self Control and Spontaneity both used in the right amounts result in magic - Every once in a while, we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, and “we fall into mutual weirdness”, and it makes all the bad experiences worth it.

“Slow but steady wins the race.” Aesop