One of the biggest cliche I have come across is the so-called "taste in men". If you are a passionate about women's magazines as I was years ago, when I would devour each one of them, you definitely came across a lot of articles and pop-quizzes revolving across the big Subject: MEN. They would basically ask you "MEN. How do you like them?", as if they were your steak, not humans. "How do you like your man, rare or well-done?"
Today I finished my very first motivational book - I used to be this cool rebel girl who would do exactly the opposite to other females, such as writing until my hands hurt instead of gossiping with girlfriends, having all my room covered in rock artists posters instead of day-dreaming about Justin Bieber or whoever was the Justin Bieber of our time; being a voracious thriller reader while making fun of silly girls who read books about how to improve your life; driving like a freaking maniac, totally disregarding the dangers involved, while other girls barely knew where the acceleration pedal was. The summer when I turned 20, I literally hit rock buttom and I did a lot of shit that I don't like to remember or be remembered; nevertheless, I think it's vital we hit rock buttom at least once in a lifetime so we can rise bigger and become braver than we ever dreamt of being. So, if I could turn back the clock, I wouldn't change a single damn thing, except having driven while totally wasted. Not cool, the (almost) 24 years old still-rebel me realizes now there are limits to rebelling and driving while under alcohol is definitely one of them.
I know for a fact that I am continuously improving; on a daily basis, I learn new things about myself and about people surrounding me. And, most importantly, on a daily basis I learn more and more that I actually know nothing; that by the end of my life, I would still be ignorant regarding the vast complex human nature. I know for a fact that, by the end of my life, I would still be a stranger to myself.
Going back to Having a new you by Friday, which is the name of the book I just finished, I learned quite a few things about myself and human nature, in general. It turns out that not only does your birth order severely influences your personality, but that I am also a typical only child: perfectionist, idealist, tending to blame myself when things go wrong. A beautiful loner and a total bookworm, who would have guessed, right? :) Moreover, he describes 5 different tyes of being loved and he also talks about how our early memories shape who we are. If you ever saw me drunk, I surely bored you with stories about an abusive, control freak, totally critical father. Stories of how I spent half of my childhood hiding in the closet and praying and the other half doing push-ups with my bare hands on the ice ( "because wearing gloves would mean we are weak! ") I really don't intent to make a big drama out of it - it is what it is - actually, until recently I was even too ashamed to talk to anyone about it and the only reason I can't seem to stop talking about it is because it bothers me. The fact there is still a person out there who scares the shit out of me makes me feel small and prevents me from becoming the great person I know I was meant to.
As you might have guessed already or, if you know me just a little bit, you must know that I find it close to impossible to have a functional relationship with a man. Nada. Everytime a man approaches me even in the most insignificant ways, even if we talk about the guy who checks the tickets in the train, my radar goes berzerk. I become afraid instantly. I have met guys who actually believed I tried really hard to be so complicated - but I can assure you I don't try! My aim in life is to become as straightforward as possible: I remember that one night when we finished everything at work and no one was doing anything and the boss came and I told him: "we're not doing anything right now!" and one of the guys was surprised at how straightforward I am. I aim to be that kind of girl, really. I actually know that kind of girl is hidden underneath layers of fucked up.
I don't try to be complicated. The truth is I have no idea how to act near a guy. Co-worker, friend, boyfriend, boss, really have no idea, nada, I instantly assume I can't rely on a guy and I can't expect help or protection. Of course, I had a rather chaotic romantic life - you desperately try to find love and physical touch in every single possible way when you had no one in your childhood, if you don't believe me, ask a smart dead dude, called Freud. The funniest thing is that neither sex, nor physical appearance are that important to me. Every physical contact I had was just a failed sad desperate attempt to forget things. Just like getting drunk, really.
I dated all kind of guys - people see me next to a 2 meters tall guy and assume I have a thing for tall guys. I even dated shorter guys! I dated the extremely obese guy, I dated the extremely skinny guy, I kissed blue eyes, brown eyes, green eyes, grey eyes, purple eyes, you name it, I've already been there! I dated all sort of men - if you put them together, you really can't say I have a pattern or a specific taste in men!
But all my romantic experience lies on a huge irony: after years of being involved in disappointing meaningless relationships, I came to the conclusion that, for me, everything happens at a mental level. I will always remember those freezing nights spent on the balcony talking with my neighboor; midnight came and we still haven't finished talking and we were so cold, yet so young and stupid! I will always remember sitting the whole night with that guy on the grass, talking about - well. - everything. Guys always said I have a particular skill to telling stories, like a modern Scheherezade, and I can tell you that is definitely my love language: talk to me and you just win me. It's really not rocket science learning how to win my heart: where other girls look for gifts of flowers, I expect words. But, make no mistake! As silly and romantic as I might sound (and generally I am), I can call your bullshit instantly, so my motto is: don't disturb a beautiful silence with meaningless words! Words are a powerful tool: they can be the sword that hits deep into the heart, yet still words are the catalyzer of healing a wounded soul. You could literally tell me you are the live version of Dexter and you like killing people for fun and I would be totally fine with that. Why? Because during the past few years, I tried really hard to develop and embrace a life philosophy that basically says : Except anyone just the way they are. I can tolerate almost everything (and I do, really!), except one thing: LIES. I can't tell you how much I hate lies; how much it breaks my heart to find out a person I care about feels the need to lie to me; how empty and alone I feel when I realize that, while I am standing completely naked and honest in front of someone, that someone wears layers and layers of lies; how much you push me away when you lie, how many walls you manage to build between us only with one lie.
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