Dating follow-up

For those of you who read my views about speed dating, don’t get excited, I haven’t yet changed them (but perhaps I should!). The follow up is not about a date from that event.

About 10 days ago I met someone through ‘natural ways’…started talking at a bar, got on really well and all that, exchanged numbers, texted each other a few times and spoke on the phone on Friday arranging tentatively to meet up tonight, his only night off these days.

Come 6pm, I’d finished my work for the day but he still hadn’t called. So, I called, to give him a piece of my mind. Series of supposed excuses about how he’d worked a 16 hour shift the night before, how tired he was, he had to wait for a new flat mate to come that night blah blah blah. Who is that busy to not find a few seconds to at least send a text?! I can’t believe any of it. He called back later in the evening begging forgiveness. I did give him a hard time of course. But why?

Why? Because, to be honest, I liked him. I am not having a self-loathing trip like ‘oh dear, I am not worthy, he doesn’t like me’. I’ve gone over that stage in my life. But I do feel like a small child whose new toy has been taken away before she got bored with it.

So, maybe, I deserve this. Maybe people only treat you the way you feel about them: like a toy in this case. A toy that they get bored before you do!

What gets me is the lack of honesty. Why can’t people say they don’t want to see you again? Why can’t they just not pick up the phone when you call or not reply to your text? Why can’t they just not call back when they say they will? So that you at least know that they are, for sure, not interested. Why bother give me all that story.

I am angry with him for not respecting me enough even to ignore me. I am angry with myself for investing energy and time in the possibility of meeting up tonight – I had to pass on one arrangement and cancel another! How weak am I? Why do I need human toys so much?

I called a friend who simply said ‘forget him’. I will. Of course, I will. People who don’t want to spend time on you are not worth wasting your time on. I know that. But this lack of honesty, this lack of courage, this lack of balls even by men who are fully endowed is disappointing me. It is making me feel despair about the (possibly eternal) state of humanity. Why am I so bloody transparent? Why am I so honest? Why, when the world functions in implied words and actions rather than explicit showing of cards, do I waste my energy trying to stand up and remain honest? When am I going to grow up and stop this stupid belief that honesty isn’t that difficult?

Any answers? No? Don’t worry. I feel better for writing it already. I just hope my Dad is not reading this!

This entry is inspired by Stevie’s comment to the entry on ‘appreciation’ (01 August 2006)…

First of all, thank you for your very kind comment. I do hope you’ll come back and bore me with the details of how what I wrote resonates with your life!

Stevie says he was looking at the blog while at work. This reminded of a favourite poem from one of my favourite poets: John S Hall (http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=96884) Although I only have one of his books, it’s enough to declare him a favourite…he is that good!

So here is the poem Stevie’s comment reminded me:

TAKE STUFF FROM WORK

Take stuff from work. It’s the best way to feel better about your job. Never buy pens or pencils or paper. Take ‘em from work. Rubber bands, paper clips, memo pads, folders – take ‘em from work. It’s the best way to feel better about your low pay and appalling working conditions.

Take an ashtray – they got plenty. Take coat hangers. Take a – take a trash can. Why buy a file cabinet? Why buy a phone? Why buy a personal computer or word processor? Take ‘em from work.

I took a whole desk from the last place I worked. They never noticed and it looks great in my apartment. Take an electric pencil sharpener. Take a case of white-out; you might need it one day. It’s your duty as an oppressed worker to steal from your exploiters. Take stuff from work. And fuck off on the company time. I wrote this at work. They’re paying me to write about stuff I steal from them. Life is good.

“There is no turkey in you, you are one hot chick!”

Was what one of the judges said to Meliz, the contestant at the ‘How do you solve a problem like Maria?’: the new talent show on BBC1 aiming to find the star of The Sound of Music planned for the West End.

Meliz is 23, studied music and is from a Turkish-Cypriot family (http://www.bbc.co.uk/maria/marias/meliz.shtml): The first from the community to make to a prime time show for her talent. I emphasise ‘talent’ since not only she seems to have heaps of it but also Sezer who was in Big Brother earlier this year and Kemal who was in last year are not in the same league.

Before the show, I thought it was my duty as a Turk-Brit to vote for her. As the show started, I hesitated between being fair and voting for the best and being loyal to my community in its largest definition. But once she started singing, there was no hesitation. She was absolutely amazing. She is not only extremely beautiful but also really humble and sweet. Her reaction upon hearing that she was through was the loveliest response: just a huge smile and squeezed shut eyes; none of the extravert reactions of some of the others. Although they announced her as ‘sexy Maria’, she showed that she is also humble and sweet like Maria should be.

And what a choice of song it was! Son of a Preacher Man – sung by so many strong vocals, not least Dusty Springfield and Aretha Franklin. Andrew Lloyd Webber said it best: “You out Dusty'd Dusty Springfield," adding, "You acted the song brilliantly."

On the website of the show, she says Rizzo from Grease (played by Stockhard Channing) is one of her favourite characters because she is gutsy. She is probably my the favourite character in fact. Grease was the first film I saw in a cinema when I was about 10. I watched the film countless times since and like her more and more every time because she knows who she is even though she doesn’t fit in with the norm. Meliz would be brilliant as Rizzo. So I finish by writing the lyrics of her best song of the film ‘There are worse things I could do’ as this is the song for all independent women. Oh, and of course, I wish Meliz all the best. Even if they don’t choose you as Maria, dear Meliz, you certainly are a STAR!

There are worse things I could do,
Than go with a boy or two.
Even though the neighborhood thinks I'm trashy,
And no good,
I suppose it could be true,
But there are worse things I could do.

I could flirt with all the guys,
Smile at them and bat my eyes.
Press against them when we dance,
Make them think they stand a chance,
Then refuse to see it through.
That's a thing I'd never do.

I could stay home every night,
Wait around for Mr. Right.
Take cold showers every day,
And throw my life away,
On a dream that won't come true.

I could hurt someone like me,
Out of spite or jealousy.
I don’t steal and I don’t lie,
But I can feel and I can cry.
A fact I'll bet you never knew.
But to cry in front of you,
That's the worse thing I could do

Should we trust our instinct?

Asked the woman sitting at the next table…’but isn’t instinct just about fancying someone?’ she added without waiting for my answer.

It was at a speed dating event.

I walked in, met up with my friend, got a drink and surveyed the room. There was no one of interest. Terrible to be so quick to form a judgement perhaps, but isn’t that the basis of the entire speed dating industry?

You must have heard about, if not been to one of, these events. Everyone gets a number as they arrive. Women take the table of their number, and men circulate spending three minutes at each. At the end of each ‘date’ you are meant to score everyone: yes, no, friend.

It’s efficient for the first round of screening. You get to meet tens of potentials in one evening. Three minutes per date are enough to know if you definitely don’t want to see the person again. But then if you like anyone you meet, you still have to spend at least a couple of hours trying to look interested and be nice even if you both know there will never be a second date.

All participants are potentially good catches: bankers, architects, graphic designers, mathematicians, doctors and so on.

They are not desperate. They just know how easy it is to be young(ish) with a lot to offer but not meet someone to offer anything to, despite living with 8 million other people in this city and no matter how outgoing and socially busy you are.

But, it’s not natural, again as the woman at the next table said. It’s scripted, careographed and staged…even if the script writers and actors are the same, the dates are by no means spontaneous which takes the joy out of them. Smiles hide the anxiety to look attractive enough and judge the other person all within three minutes.

But the natural is difficult. The odds of meeting someone worth your offerings are very low and that’s why the industry is so successful.

Should we continue with, what seems in bad times, near impossible odds? Should we wait for our fate even if it means accepting the possibility that there’ll be no one for us? NO, screams a voice inside. You are of a generation of women who are truly beginning to be free, to determine their own lives and defy fate others used to decide for them. So, sacrifice an evening, see beyond the staged 3-minutes and give everyone a chance.

There is another voice inside, though, one who says don’t let go of the dream of chance meetings. If it’s meant to be, it will be no matter how hard you try to make it happen or stop it. In fact, do we even really need a significant other to enjoy life? Can we enjoy life with a significant other, if we can’t enjoy it on our own? So, don’t sacrifice an evening, go see some art, dance, sing, enjoy the life that you have!

When it comes to meeting people: perhaps the question is not about how you meet someone but what you look for when you do. Should we trust our instinct or should we judge whether the man / woman opposite is good husband / wife material? Are they two different things as the woman at the next table implied? Can there be happy dating, let alone marriage, without a good dose of desire?! I seriously doubt it.

My initial instinct was right on this occasion. No one was interesting enough. I don’t mean attractive but genuinely interesting. The first three questions of all of them (and there was not time for a fourth one) were how my name is pronounced, where it and/or my accent is from and what I do for a living. Fair enough I guess but boring nonetheless…What did I ask? Not much…the same questions back – minus the one about pronunciation. So I was as much to blame, and as I guessed at the time, I only got two ‘friend’ ticks afterwards…Thank you, guys, but I have enough friends, as I am sure you do.

Thanks also to H – who has been an excellent source of potential answers as always.

Fuerzabruta at the Roundhouse

Hurry, go, see it.

See the Roundhouse in Chalk Farm for a start. Great venue with a long and varied past. As a quote from Tempest says “What is past is prologue” (from the poster on the Level 1 wall).

Fuerzabruta is something else altogether. If not in the Roundhouse, you must, I repeat, you must see it if and when it comes to where you are. That is if you can take the force, yes, the ‘brute force’ which I think the title means in Spanish. I don’t want to give anything away. No, I can’t give anything away anyway…words, however better they are than I can master could give away the show that will startle all your senses all at once.

A man walks, runs
Gets shot, blood.
Picks himself up, continues,
Gets shot again;
Passes by chairs, people, who look but don’t connect,
Rips through doors that explode in confetti, in boxes, in blasts
Runs through a diner amidst furniture in havoc,
Settles on a bed,
Dreams about a water fair up in the sky, kisses her and more,
Then it’s all a blur:
Girls running on walls,
Man and woman hovering on vertical trampolines in their finest,
Bouncing away as they try to get closer, missing, missing.
Parties, confetti, cardboard.
Huge wave out of foil passing over our heads,
Steam, rain, water, water,
At last the water fairies of our dreams,
One, then, two, three, four
The most beautiful bodies, small, delicate feet,
Wet legs, torsos, hair
Coming closer, closer, closer
We touch their faces, ankles, toes, bottoms
They look in bewilderment, my mouth still open
Again, again and again
Then rain, steam, thunder, water, water

A man walks, runs
Rips through a door that explodes two others
Up the stairs, a door beyond which there is nothing but running
Running, running, running…

F said it was about the relentless pace of modern life; ripping through, destroying everything; plastic, artificial, detached, but yearning to return to something that’s fluid, natural, caring, peaceful. I thought it was about life, death, the promised but undeliverable, unknowable beauty of afterlife. I think she is right, though.

Their website says “[Fuerzabruta] does not invent anything; does not have a purpose; it is”. I think they are right, too. They also say it does not repeat itself. So, hopefully, I haven’t spoilt anything. Hurry, go, see it and make up your mind, or just let go and enjoy.

www.fuerzabruta.net/website/fuerza_eng.html

Appreciation is not just a difficult word to spell!

Whenever I am down, I count all the things in life I am lucky about…I have all my sensory faculties, limbs and organs in good working order; have a job; have a flat; am not rich but not wanting for money; have a few creative hobbies, a scattered but good family, and good friends etc. etc. An annoying habit this, counting one’s blessings, at least for those who mock me for being such a Polyanna.

Despite appearances, until recently I didn’t truly mean any of it. It was all like Mary Poppins says ‘a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down’. I never forgot how bitter the medicine was. So much so that I’ve come to believe that the Robbie Williams lyrics “I don’t wanna die but I ain't keen on living either” were the best description of my life if I ever allowed myself to admit it.

But what I’ve, only recently, allowed myself to admit is something else: that there really is nothing to complain about my life. Not only that I am healthy and have enough money but I don’t live in a war zone afraid of my life. I have control over my destiny in more ways than one.

And as soon as I allowed myself to feel this, lots of good things began to happen as if my wishing alone was enough to make them happen.

I think it started a few weeks ago, when I spent a weekend with the extended family of my goddaughter, S. We played with the kids during the day and spent the night sitting under a tree, sipping wine and talking about all sorts of things while being bitten to buggery by gigantic mosquitoes (and that’s in Surrey!). But I felt part of that family and the love we shared. We even saw our first glow worm together…a good sign.

Weekend before last, I went to Ibiza to visit my friend, H, out of sheer desperation to get away. I expected a friendly home and a good host but she exceeded all my expectations. Not only she was a good host, but also a much better friend towards me than I had hoped. We spent four days sleeping (deepest sleeps I had in years), eating (only a little I must add), drinking (with moderation), dancing (with no bounds at least one of the nights), playing chess (H taught me), swimming as the sun set and talking about life and love.

It’s not an easy thing to talk about love with other people. They either get bored or anxious either because the conversation can truly be boring and repetitive or because you tell truths that they cannot admit even to themselves. H made it possible for me to say thinks (intentional misspelling) I didn’t even realise I was thinking – thinks that got me thinking even more. Even when she didn’t agree, instead of disagreeing she said ‘hmm, interesting, there is something here I shall think about’…the rare trait of a great listener…thank you H!

I came back to London far too soon…as the fox must return to the fur shop (a Turkish saying). A couple of days later I received an email from Easy Jet informing me that my flight to Budapest in a couple of weeks’ time was cancelled and offering me a full refund for the entire journey. I snapped the offer since even though I wanted to go and see the city and attend the music festival, my heart was not in it. I didn’t really want to go and couldn’t have wished for more than a full refund!

When someone wishes something and it happens, they say (at least in Turkey), I wish I wished something else! Why?! Imagine someone giving you a present and you telling them “hmmm nice and it was in my birthday list and all, but I wish you got me something else”. Imagine how that person must feel. That’s how God, energy, universe whatever you call it, must feel. No wonder not many of our wishes come true….we ungrateful gits don’t deserve them, that’s why!

Friday night, I went to a sufi music concert. It was very moving and the amateur group that was playing and singing had improved immensely since I last saw them two years ago. They announced that they would finish the night with a hymn (or ilahi which is the Muslim equivalent). I am not religious…or rather I don’t practice. But there is this one ilahi about a conversation between the musician and a yellow flower which my grandmother had taught me when I was a little girl and which I still remember. I thought ‘I wish they sang Sari Cicek’….law and behold, that’s what they sang which made me happier than I would have if this had happened a few weeks ago…so happy that I didn’t mind going to a restaurant and having dinner by myself…in the middle of Islington, all on my own, on a Friday night, surrounded by groups of friends, families and dates. I would have done it anytime anyway but would have had a bitter sweet taste in my mouth. This time, I experienced a calm happiness about sitting there on my own, making notes for myself about lucky things in life as I watched others with a hidden smile on my face.

The weekend was spent at a wedding, that of F and R who’d met on holiday in a Central American country five years ago; then spent most of the time since living in their respective countries, only meeting for a few weeks every few months. The groom said he was so lucky to have met the bride who changed his life and opened up all sorts of possibilities for him that he never thought possible. There is love after all, so long as one has faith in it. I didn’t feel left out, lonely…despite dining at the table with two of the siblings of the groom and one ex boyfriend. Considering I am the ex of one of the groom's brothers, I felt joy and luck having met these people and not only having been invited to share their joy but also be sitting in a still-close-to-family table.

Even this morning when I turned up at work the first thought in my head was not ‘oh, damn, it’s Monday morning and I am still tired’, even though I was still tired, but ‘how lucky I am to be able to come to work as late as 10.30’!

What’s happening to me? More importantly where is this entry going? Nowhere particular. I just wanted to share how lucky I’ve been feeling. It’s as if I write, this feeling will become even more real.

I do have these pangs of doubt every now and then: like if I allow myself to feel happiness and luck for any prolonged time, i.e. more than a few moments, it will either be taken away from me or I will be forgoing something better. But who, why should it go away? And if it did, wouldn’t it come back again? What could be better? Yes, I could have more material goods, I could travel more, not have to work, I could have a family, a loving husbands, kids. But would having these suddenly make me appreciate them truly, or would I still be either afraid or unsatisfied?

Yes, I guess that’s the key word: appreciate. That’s the change, that’s the difference. It’s not that my life has changed significantly. It’s not that I was granted my wishes by a gene or found a four-leaved clover. It’s just that something changed in me to make me see my life, myself differently. And finally, I begin to appreciate myself; not because I am special but just because I simply am. Maybe this was the change I’ve been waiting for a long time. I just hope I’ll now get over the fear that I jinxed it all by announcing it through this entry. Please, please, let me wallow in this appreciation for a while.