A yellow jacket

She could feel his eyes burning holes on her back. All she had to do was turn around. And flash him a little smile, maybe? Her hands were trembling slightly. Her stomach in knots. She wanted to turn around. She wanted to stare back into his dark eyes. Feel the hypnotic pull of his gaze.

The store owner, a fat, pudgy man, was standing right in front of her now, explaining how the calf skin leather was so soft and smooth.

“It will be so easy to fold and put in your bag. Here lady, feel it” he said.

She reached to touch the jacket. It did feel soft and smooth. Was he still behind her? Why didn’t she just turn around and look.

“How much is it?” she asked the store owner.

“550 dollars” he said. “But for you, I give not 60 percent discount like I give others. For you lady, I give very special discount - 65 percent. So only 500 dollars. OK?”

He thrust the jacket into her arms. She held it up.

“Mirror over there. Come lady, try on”

She could have resisted. But she didn't want to. She wanted to stay longer. She wanted one more look into the stranger’s eyes. She wanted to know why her stomach was in knots.

She'd gotten off the bus and on to the dusty roads of Izmir with four other people. A friendly elderly couple from Australia, a short man who wore a light pink t-shirt that stretched over his beer belly - who said he was from the Philippines, and an unshaven tour guide who had a bad cough. When the guide said they were visiting a leather store on their way back, she was feeling too hot and sweaty to be impressed. But when they arrived at the square, orange building, she was thankful to be out of the sun and in the dark air-conditioned room. They were served apple iced tea in tiny Turkish tea glasses and made to sit in front of what appeared to be a fashion runway.

As it turned out, it was a runway. And the stranger with the dark eyes came on first, when the lights hit the runway and music came on. As he stepped out, she saw him scan the room briefly, then his gaze landed on her face. Her heart pounded as his gaze deepened, his eyes locked on hers, as he walked right towards her. She couldn't look away and she realised she was holding her breath. He reached the end of the runway, so close to her, she could have touched him if she stretched her hands. His eyes bore into hers, not a flicker of emotion on his face, not even a hint of a smile. She was dangerously close to a fit of giggles.

She had to look away. And the moment she did, he turned around and walked away. Then, the next model came on. And the next. And the next. And then it ended. Fluorescent lights came on and they were ushered through a tiny door into a bright room.

And there he was, the dark-eyed stranger, standing in a corner amongst some leathery things. Oh how she wished she'd had the borrowed confidence of alcohol in her blood stream. She might have walked up to him then and said 'hi'. But she'd only had apple iced tea, and it did nothing for her. She felt hot and sweaty. And felt a sudden urge to smell her armpits.

So she pretended to concentrate on a yellow jacket hanging on the stall in front of her. The store owner of course, took that as a sign of interest and came rushing over.

"Mirror over there. Come lady, try on"

Holding the jacket in her hand, she walked over to the mirror.

"Amir! Don't just stand about. Come help this beautiful lady try this"

She watched the dark-eyed stranger, walking over, taking the jacket off her hand and holding it up for her to slip her arms into. All the while, as she looked at the mirror, she saw his eyes never left hers. Not once.

I never do

"I don't get you... with her" I say shaking my head. "I really don't"

"I know you don't. You're not the first person to say that."

There is silence. I look down at the table. The bar is crowded, there is music but it's muffled because it's coming from inside the bar and we're seated on the outside. So all we hear is mixed conversations from the other tall tables around us. He gets a faraway look in his eyes, absently picks his mug of beer and gulps down a fair bit. The yellow liquid swirls around in the mug as he lays it down again.

"The thing is I can imagine my life without a lot of people in it. But I can't imagine my life without her."

He looks at me then. A quick glance probably to see how I would react to this revelation.

"That's probably the most profound thing you've ever said to me about your relationship with her. Why didn't you ever tell me this before?"

"I don't know. I think I just realised it myself" he says.

I just sip my beer and don't reply.

"But honestly, most of the time it feels like we're brother and sister " he adds.

I shake my head again. "Yes, that I've heard before"

"Sometimes though..."

He pauses. Takes another swig out of his mug.

"Sometimes what?" I ask.

"Sometimes I just want to grab her, push her against the wall and take her right there" he says looking at me again.

"But then..." he continues "I never do".

She's just not that into you!

Fine, I'm not that into you...

a) when I don't pick up my phone when you call. And no, I am not playing hard to get.

b) when I don't return your texts. Its mostly because I don't think it's necessary for me to report to you on my day and also probably because I don't have an appropriate response when you text me 'hey, how you doing?' when I'm in the midst of a meeting or I'm pulling my hair out trying to meet a deadline. But it could also be because I just forgot. Yes, that's how little you cross my mind.

c) and when I do return one text after your three incessant ones, it is only because I'm being polite and hate to see you be so pathetic. And if my text says 'hey, been busy. talk later' I don't really want to talk later, I'm just procastinating, and I'm hoping you're not so thick to not take a hint.

d) but if you are that thick and take my 'talk later' text as an invitation to call me later, please refer to (a) above.

e) when I tell you I'm not looking for anything random or otherwise right now, I'm basically telling you to back off. Leave me alone. I'm just not into you. Of course I'm looking for a relationship with the man of my dreams, it's just that I don't think you're cute enough or funny enough for me to want to date you and yes, I can make up my mind on that in the first five minutes from when I meet you.

f) and no I don't want to be 'just' friends. I have enough friends. Please don't pretend that you want to be 'just' friends, when it's so darn obvious you want to get into my pants.

Ladies, feel free to add on to this list :)

 

I'm an idiot.. and he's stupid (part 2)

He kissed me that night.

And two days later he bailed on meeting me for dinner saying he had other plans he had forgotten about.

When I texted him saying ‘That’s too bad. Was looking forward to it’ his reply was ‘It would have been a great idea if things weren’t getting so complicated. Another time.’

Angry, I texted back ‘If that’s how you feel there won’t be another time. I’ll be out of your hair to make it all less complicated’.

Knowing how he avoided me like the plague when I get angry, I did not expect a response. So I was surprised when 4 minutes later, I got a long text from him saying ‘Think we have some issues. Cause we just can’t be doing this all the time and we have to move on somehow. Just like you, I have to sort my stuff out and since I can’t speak to you about it I am in a bit of a pickle. So, lets take a step back and see how to sort this out.’

It took me 3 hours to reply. I’d waited till I’d gotten my girlfriend Miss X’s input on this. We tried coming up with an appropriate response over some margaritas. After dissecting the text to pieces, we decided the best way to go would be a short and succinct text that did not show him I’d been affected by what he had said.

So my reply ‘I guess you’re right. Sorry to put you in a pickle’.

I didn’t hear from him for over a week until he called 2 nights ago. He asked me how things were and when I was starting my new job. We chatted a short bit on that. Then I asked him why he called.

His reply… ‘Simply’.


What. The. Fuck.

The dating game

One of my closest friend Miss X called me up the other day, depressed. Her mum and aunt are trying to set her up with a guy, basically get her to go on blind date with him. Her aunt mailed her a picture of him. He's 37 which is not a bad age for a guy but when I asked Miss X what she thought of how he looked.

"You know how some guys who are about that age..say like Mr. Stupid (who btw is 36 this year) but don't look it? Well, he's not one of them. He actually looks 37, " she said.

"But how is a 37 year-old supposed to look like?" I asked.

"I don't know! But we go after men who look like guys not men who look like MEN," she said. "And this one looks scarily like a MAN! He's got glasses, wearing one of those silky shirts and looks serious. Basically he looks like a 37 year-old man not a 37 year-old guy."

"But that's not all" she continued "The date on the photo was 2004, which means he looked like this when he was freaking 31!"

I had to laugh but I didn't know what to say to that. Thinking about it now however, I'd day how do you trust someone who shares a picture of himself (and I'm sure to their best interest they would want to share the best picture they've got) which is 6 years old? So what, he hasn't taken a decent picture of himself since? That's a huge flapping red flag if you ask me.

But anyway, I digress. The point I'm trying to make is... 3 maybe even 2 years ago, Miss X and me, we would not have been so obliging to our mums setting us up this way. In fact, we would have been downright hostile. But here we were, a bunch of 30 year olds, actually succumbing to the pressures of society or rather pressures of family, specifically, our terrified mums.

Not to mention certain aunts who, despite their best intentions, make us feel like total crap when they tell us how small the pool is for girls over the age of 30.

But is it just about the age? Is there really a stigma attached to someone like me, who's touched the big 30 with no man in sight? Or are our mums and aunts over-dramatising their concern? And when they convey their concerns, it seems to me, everything is so black and white. You meet a guy. You like him. He likes you. You get married. Happily ever after.

But most of the time, I'm stuck in grey. For example...

Scenario 1
I meet guy. I like guy. Guy seems to like me but guy is commitment phobic and runs the 100m dash (in the opposite direction) when I tell him I like him.

Scenario 2
I meet guy. I like guy. Guy likes me. We kiss and make-out a couple of times. Find out guy also likes 5 other girls.

Scenario 3
I meet guy. I like guy. Guy seems to like me. We go on a date. Then guy never calls.

Scenario 4
I meet guy. I don't like guy. But guy likes me. Guy calls me everyday. And when I don't answer guy texts incessantly till I call guy a psycho and ask him to bugger off.

And so on and so on.

Okay, I'm going way off tangent here. What I'm trying to say, I think, is, "Mum, I know I've turned 30 way faster than you wanted me to. And as much as you want me married and start making babies.. it does look rather bleak right now, and you may have to wait a while before it even remotely starts looking possible.."

Right. If only I could gather the nerve to tell my mum that to her face.

Fools in love

I was talking to my friend last night. She’s with a guy who appears not ready to be in a committed relationship. His excuse is that he is focusing all of his time and energy to his work. Relationships require too much effort and he just cannot afford it right now. If that is not an indication of a guy who’s not ready to be with you, I’m not sure what is. But my friend, who despite wanting more from him, is meeting him for drinks this week. She is aware of all the facts, but she just likes him too much to refuse.

Are we all fools when it comes to love?

I’m trying to maintain a platonic relationship with a guy I thought I loved a while ago. But if all I want is to be just friends why does the idea of him being with someone else make me feel that someone has punched me in the stomach? And why is it that whenever Lady Gaga sings her bad lyrics ‘I don’t wanna be friends…want your bad romance’ I find myself bopping my head, nodding and agreeing and thinking of only one person in particular.

Sometimes I wonder, is love really so complicated or am I just making it so. Do I only want what I cannot have? Am I only after the chase? Why is it that almost always the anticipation of my time together with someone feels better than the reality of it? And then why does it again seem better on hindsight? Is it nostalgia - making it more romantic than it really was? Every time we put pen to paper, we are writing on hindsight, riding on something that has already happened, something in the past. And when we write it, do we embellish, making what was only mediocre seem more special than it truly was?

Love should be experienced and not just felt, I read that somewhere. But in most of my past relationships I feel I’ve only felt it, either anticipating something that is going to happen and then thinking about it fondly on hindsight. Was it because the experience in itself was so fleeting? In all honestly I can only think of one time when I truly felt I was experiencing love. My then boyfriend was sitting at the computer trying to get some work done and I was sitting on the couch next to him trying to read. I looked up to find him frowning, deep in concentration. Wanting some attention myself, I went up to him and sat on his lap facing him. I remember him smiling then gently pushing my head to rest on his chest where I could hear his heartbeat. I closed my eyes and allowed him to continue working. The love I felt for him at that point was so overpowering that I made a mental note to never forget it. And I never did.

Is it sad that I can only recall one such incredible moment of love? I’m sure I have experienced others, it’s just that I can’t recall them. Fleeting moments passed by, never to be relived or felt again the same way.

And we keep putting ourselves out there, going on dates, meeting new people trying to make a connection, trying to recapture the feeling of being in love with someone who could possibly make us feel those moments...again.

And therein lies one of my biggest fears - what if I don't?

These moments are so rare, so few and so fleeting – it just does not seem enough. I feel I’m missing out on something bigger. There must be more to love than these rare, few, fleeting moments. Otherwise, I’m thinking.. love is overrated.