‘If only she would let me  – I’d curl in a ball on the mat in front of her door. Just so I could be near her.’

I silently listen to his confession and a wave of remote sadness washes over me. In our group he’s known as proud and distant, arrogant at times even. It’s the first time he’s been in love and it’s all so new to him.

I sit and make mental notes for my new post. I want to write something beautiful about the most noble of all human emotions; to describe it as a virtue that elevates. Oh wait… Never mind.



it’s a feline thing

There is a common inclination to compare women to cats. Putting aside how pretentious this comparison is, there are undeniable arguments in favor of the wild theory. Of course, whether the creature prefers to purr on the couch or scratch the wallpaper in the living room is a matter of personal preference.

Drawing analogies between women and cats is as old as the world and borders on the line of cliché. As much as I adore both types of predators there are several elements in their common behavior that are quite alike.

Women as well as cats have either been worshiped or prosecuted for witchcraft.

It’s nice to have a woman as well as a cat in your bed.

When there’s a cat in your house you can never be sure what’s keeping her there – you or the warmth of the home.

Only women and cats can still maintain their dignity while begging.

When the cat presses against your feet you think she loves you, but she’s actually spreading her scent  to mark her property. Or maybe she loves you. Or maybe she’s just marking you. Is there a difference?

Both, in the spur of a heated argument, can be referred to as a ‘creature’.

Cats and women pass their entire lives, balancing between cautiousness and curiosity.

When you live with a cat or a woman you can never be sure if she’s living with you or you’re living with her.

Regardless of the fact that both are highly intelligent and intuitive, cats and women act mainly on their emotions.

Cats and women always expect something from men..And men expect them to simply..be there.

Cats and women always trim their fur, even when they’re not going out. Not that they’ll run to someone else, but who knows..

After the cat leaves you, all that’s left from her are few scattered hairs, chew toys and a litter box. And all those things are screaming at you how unjust and cruel you’ve been. Staring at them you wish you could hunt her down and beg for forgiveness till the end of time.

Cast and women will always test the boundaries of what’s acceptable and what they can get away with.

A cat can scratch out your eyes just because she’s in a bad mood. Afterwards she’ll curl up in a ball in your lap and you’ll forgive her everything.

If the cat is pressing herself against you too hard she either wants something or she’s feeling lonely. And you never know which one is it. She might have pissed in your shoes, but there’s no point holding a grudge about the past..Although the cat never forgets.

A cat cannot be convinced or forced. You have to be firm, but gentle with her. However, if you’re too firm she’s going to piss in your shoes and if you’re too gentle she’ll take advantage of you.

The cat will bring you a dead mouse once and spend the rest of her life convinced she’s provided for you.

You remember every cat who’s lived with you as a separate life despite the fact all cats were the same. Although the creatures were different after all. Go figure.

When she disappears, a cat leaves behind more questions than answers.

the right approach

Everyone at our high school were obsessed with her. All the boys drooled over her and all the girls fantasized about being her. It’s not that she was a flawless masterpiece, wasn’t even damn near perfection if you ask me, but there was a certain je ne sais quoi quality that gave her an intoxicating allure. You know the type – ephemeral, barely out-of-this-world and always just a fleeting step away from your fingers when you most wanted to touch her delicate skin. A moment later and she was gone, her summer-y scent lingering on long after recess was over and the corridors were empty.

There was an unspoken game of winning her over going on between all the seniors. There wasn’t a surviving male friendship in sight because of her; all the hormone-crazy teenagers were frenemies and secretly raiding their parents’ wallets every chance they got to try and impress her the old-fashioned way – by showering her with the type of silly obsolete stuff adolescent girls liked. It didn’t work. Then someone had the brilliant idea to join the football team and get to the gal’s heart the American way or at least the way all mediocre rom coms teach us is a safe bet, so for a few months there was a streaming line in coach’s office every day. The poor guy had to finally start turning away love-crazed adolescent boys who had nothing better to do with their time, but try and impress some chick. It was every teenager for himself; more cunning means had to be developed and pursued in order to engage her fleeting attention.

Luckily, all the time this was happening, as her best friend’s brother I was able to hang out on the inside, thus acquiring direct access to her inner emotional unrest (if there was ever such). I wasn’t attracted to her and it struck me as weird when all my classmates, friends and random acquaintances found any excuse to bring up her name in virtually every conversation we had. Come to think of it, it was the first time I learned that having everyone want something instantly made me want to run away from it as far as possible. I’m like this even till this day..Anyway, so I sat and observed how her homework was always written; her assignments handed in on time; she was picked up from school and her house in the hippest, coolest cars there were; her cute pink Swarowski-encrusted phone got a matching dangling pink thingy to go along with it and so on and so forth, but there was never one King of The Kill crowned, if you know what I mean.

Well, at least not until Mike Foryshewski came along. He was tall, well-built and had sharp features that gave a somewhat menacing look. His cold grey eyes were always nervously scouting around and his movements were brisk and concise to a point of machine-like accuracy. He noticed her immediately, although she remained as aloof towards him as she had always been with everyone else. One day after classes he pulled over and invited her in his convertible with a gesture. They had barely exchanged a word until then, but she was used to being driven around by every guy in sight and had started to think of it as somewhat of a birth right accompanying the fact of being born a pretty woman.

The rest I know by overhearing her many, many, many exhilarated conversations with my sister in the following days, but apparently instead of driving her straight to her house he took a little detour down to the creek and after pulling off, wasted no time in coming on to her. He had been passionate, eager and firm in handling her or so she described it. Couple of thrusts and the girl no one had ever made it to First or Second Base with had lost her virginity in the back seat of a shabby convertible.

News of this sort of thing is not bound by the meager laws of physics applicable to everything else on Earth and that same night the entire school was on their phones outrageous about the turn of events. The next day as Mike was making his way down the corridors you could feel the hate emanating from every single guy he walked past. What made things even more awkward was the sight of her skipping alongside him, carrying his books for class. This continued for the rest of that day as well as the following ones. Mike was acting as if though it was the most natural and logical thing in the world. While the rest of the guys were busy glaring at him and brainstorming what could he have possible said to get ahead so quickly, the female population was blowing the story out of proportion with gossip about the mythological size of his private parts (which seemed the only logical explanation as tho why he got her attention in the first place) and were desperately trying to seduce him to prove their thesis. Neither succeeded and rumors lingered on till prom when we all parted ways.

With a more scientific rather than personal interest in the whole thing, I decided to tactfully approach the subject one warm evening few months after things had began to settle down. My sister had conveniently sneaked out the back to make out with her then boyfriend and I jumped at the opportunity to ask the question on everyone’s minds:

– “Tell me how did he do it? It’s not like you were short on attention; you had guys lining in front of you, ready to jump hoops just for a look of approval.”

– “I know.”

– “So why him?”

– “He found..the right approach to me.”

So there you have it. May we all find the right approach to the women of our hearts..

the circle of hurt

Sometimes she enters your life with a loud bang in a haze of dazzling scents and sensations. She’s overwhelming and intrusive and it leaves you feeling violated in a way. There was never any space for her in your life, but she rudely pushes people around, rearranges your priorities and before you know it – you’re left longing for her presence in the early hours of the mornings when her scent is still lingering on your pillow. You kid yourself that you’d be perfectly fine if she went away as unexpectedly as she wandered into your life, but when it actually happens there’s a huge feeling of abandonment left to fill her space.

Other times she slips into your life in the most unfortunate of times when your guard is down and you’re still mourning the departure of an out of place love affair. You turn to her in search of solace and comfort and, little by little, you come to yearn for her convenience, warmth and bleak attractiveness. Realizing you care surprises you more than it surprises her. Unable to chase away the feeling that you were never meant to be and this is, at best, something temporary, you move towards the logical conclusion of parting ways. But it is when the last sign of her comforting presence disappears from your life that you realize how much you’ve grown attached, dependent and fond of her. Years of posing as a self-sufficient adult give way to a scared, clingy and emotionally unstable child who’s desperately trying to find someone to take care of them.

But worst of all is the frightened girl with the look of timid hope in her eyes. Naive, sincere and honest to a point of insanity. You welcome her into your life reluctantly because you know you will destroy her. Just like one of them destroyed you a long time ago. You have to teach her everything from scratch – how to walk, to talk, to be in the world of responsible, self-sufficient adults. She will reward you with pure joy in return and she will never hold anything back from you. Everything is serious with her; everything is final. You feel compelled to yell at her: ‘You shouldn’t be up this late; it’s long past your bedtime. Just go home.’ She will look up at you confused and press her warm cheek against her palm asking with her eyes ‘Let me stay a little longer, please. Don’t send me away.’ She will leave you only after she grows up and both of you realize there is nothing more you can teach her. When she understands you’re too old or too tired to hold her hand; to run your fingers through her hair; to tell her stories before bedtime; to push her on the swings..



men want what women don’t need

“Perception, my dear. It’s all about perception.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Let me give you an example. When we fuck, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold him tightly, burying my nose in his neck. He thinks it’s a sign of passion and uncontrollable desire. I do it, so I don’t have to look at him [..]”

A Poker Game of Love


I don’t mind giving you my body – it’s the least I can do. It [hardly] means anything. It would cost me far more to make you fried eggs in the morning. Is this confusing you? Think of it this way – giving you my body is the same as your telling me that I’m special. Both cost less to the person giving them; are only meant as means to an end and end up costing more to the person receiving them. Kind of sick, isn’t it? Go ahead and stroke your ego – having my body is as far as you went (although I know it’s more than enough for you). The guy is happy – he gets to perpetuate the self-deceit of being a capable and experienced lover and so is his partner- she’s heard the absurdly shallow and blatantly untrue confirmation of being a fleeting desire in the eyes of a man. Both achieved at the expense of the naivety (or so they would like to think) of another human being. What we don’t know is that instead of outsmarting the other person, both are screwed over – he will say anything to sleep with her and she will do anything to hear what she wants. Both following the logic that the goal justifies the means, especially when the same will get you what you’re aiming for at absurdly low-cost maintenance fees. He can proudly parade his conquest, unaware and not caring that he never had but a blow-up doll in his hands and she can blissfully think she’s worth more than any other woman in his life, oblivious that the words she just heard are always the same, only the girl is different. Then they can both go and buy books with sugar-coated puff that explain how she’s from Venus and he’s from Mars to bring the worn-out bodies and drained souls [some] comfort. However, what they should really be paying for [if anything] are books telling them they can never meet at the point of being together.

If our need for companionship becomes so dire, we’ll stop just long enough to fool each other into believing we have anything in common. And we do. Lies. Stay with me and I will keep lying that you’re ‘the only guy I’ve done [insert random sexual act here] with’ or ‘the best I’ve ever had’, sustaining your ginormous unjustified ego of a conqueror and you’ll keep lying that I’ve ‘meant to you more than any other woman in your life’ and ‘you’ve never loved another the way you love me’ to encourage me to keep my feet off the ground and my head high in the clouds (where it usually is most of the time anyway). We’ll call that love and build ruin our lives around it, complaining that everything falls apart, but forever denying the obvious fact that anything built on a lie is fleeting and ends bitterly. For it’s always lies that bring people together and it’s the truth that drives them apart – that’s simply the way things are and always have been.

Life will pass and we will fill it with promises of love and closeness; we’ll listen to songs, read books and watch movies about it and that will have to suffice. In this lifetime at least. In the mean time I have to remember to keep on lying to you that you’ve conquered more of me than anyone before you and you’ll have to keep on fooling me into believing I’ve meant more to you than anyone else in your life. Seems like a fair deal to pass time.

if it starts, it has to end

In the beginning they are all so respectful, polite and witty and we are all so charming, mysterious and soft-spoken it’s [almost] surreal. It’s inhumane to keep it together 24/7, but we all manage to pull it off somehow – in the beginning of every relationship that is. Fully aware we’re setting ourselves to fail, since it’s only a matter of time to screw up.

It’s a widely known secret that we only get one chance in love..and completely off topic – it’s also a widely known fact we always, always, always manage to blow it fairly quickly.

Women stop loving when they’ve been hurt badly. No amount of excuses, tenderness, belated loyalty and sweet gestures can change that. We can (and often do because we rarely leave a sunken relationship for reasons completely eluding to the logical mind) and  pretend we’ve forgiven, forgotten and moved passed the loss of trust and love for our partner, oblivious to the fact that the only thing we’re getting out of the relationship from now on, is an Oscar for a Best Supporting Role in a self-directed sham. Men might perceive this as cold-heartedness and being bitchy, but the sad truth is women save their most bitter resentment, disappointment and unkindness only for ourselves. He might even think that I am mean and unfair, which is fine, because I know that for everything he’s suffered – I’ve suffered for the both of us and for all the times I’ve been unkind to him – I’ve punished and will continue punishing myself long after we’re through and he’s moved on. It may take him one or two remedial relationships to mend his bruised heart, but I will pursue his image for years to come in every guy I throw myself at just to fool myself that what we shared was real.

Men don’t get or care about any of that. He’ll see a bitch out of hell – confident and self sufficient, provocative and seductive, which  will only hurt and convince him more that she didn’t care that much in the first place since she’s moved on so fast. He’ll never know that everything she’s become is because of him.. for him. To remind him what he rejected; to show him what he’s missing out on; to teach him that every woman is an illusion for she takes the form(s) of every guys’ dreams of her and to make him see and realize that. Men prefer to venture out to unconquered territories, unaware that what they think is familiar and well-known is as wild as the geese they want to chase. While chasing they’ll talk about the comfort of settling down and while settling down (not ‘once settled down’ because you never are, it’s a process) they’ll do everything to get away.

And it’s shattered. Beyond repair. It’s so predictable it’s not even worth crying over (but we do).

Then he starts apologizing, rationalizing, defending, reasoning, asking, hoping and more often than never it’s better to choose to be alone with somebody than alone with yourself. Men call it forgiveness and consider it a sign of true love. Women view it for what it really is – good old rational thinking.

with mediocre love comes great responsibility

Relationships from the type ‘whatever comes along, I might as well keep it as a back-up plan’ don’t just leave a bitter aftertaste in your soul, but are also harder to maintain and require more efforts, time and energy, regardless of what you may fool yourself. Talk about constructiveness! You wish I weren’t right and so do I, but truth be told there’s nothing harder for a man to do than convince a woman she’s needed, desired and longed for enough to stay – even if it’s just long enough for him to stick his dick in her. And women..women find it extremely tedious to consistently fool someone how attractive, strong, together, over-the-top in bed and overall awesome he is.

It all happened, actually it all happens when they thought they wanted same/similar things – a sheltered stop to hide from life’s disappointments and bruises and [possibly] someone to put together what was left of their formal selves. A woman, true to her girly nature, naively assumes this deal is the beginning of her happily-ever-after. And men..men are far more practical – even if being of discriminating taste – after all, even the noblest of gentlemen eventually get tired of dining on 100$ steaks and crave a 3$ hot dog (as one guy eloquently explained to me once). Well put, isn’t it? A cruel mockumentary spin of the ever so effective ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ get-out-of-a-relationship card, which every men inevitably plays in his life. All you’re left with afterwards is the beneficial position of a trapped animal, generously bestowed the comfort of the grin-and-bear-it routine. Lovely.

With the deeply twisted and proficient ability of self-irony, cultivated through years of disillusions, only a woman is capable of sustaining this type of existence. I find it amusing you can intentionally lead someone on, believing your ‘temporarily’ is their ‘forever’, your ‘back-up plan’ is their ‘exclusively’, and your ‘hear me lie’ is their invitation to the most secluded parts of their soul. I know, I know – it’s not his fault he’s hurt me, after all I am the one who invited him in. To each his own, right?
After sufficient time goes by you come to terms with the extent of your naivety and pure foolishness, long after the anger, depression, bargaining and acceptance have kicked in; you are finally able to distance yourself to see he was right to do so. Who gambles everything on a single hand? Even if you’re holding a promising set of cards never underestimate the experience of the player you’re up against, because experience beats luck any time. And love is a straight game of poker – for someone to win, the other one has to lose. Mad it was yourself? Angry you were played? What was he supposed to do – talk you through the game, revealing all his tricks? It doesn’t work that way..

Then you’re told not to overreact, calm down, and ‘leave the situation as it is’.

And women are exceptionally good at leaving something as it is..It’s their queue to let go..of situations and the men who caused them.