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>Valentine’s Day: Romantic or Commercial?

14 Feb


Today is a bad day to be single. All around us we see the delivery of flowers, valentine cards and sweets. Everything is covered in hearts and tints of red and pink lest we forget what time of year it is. But is any of it real? In a world when we no longer have time for intimacy and sleep with our Blackberry, has all our romance been stuffed into one day? Negligent husbands come out of the woodwork to buy their wives’ affection with a box of chocolates. I bet their mistress gets diamonds.

True romance is different. It doesn’t wait till February 14th rolls around each year. It’s always lurking in a corner somewhere – ready to strike when you least expect it. A couple that is truly devoted to each other doesn’t need mass hysteria to convince them to treat each other nicely for one day. Valentine’s Day is not about love. It’s all about cashing in on gullible minds and in the current economical hardships, the shops need the holiday desperately. Valentine’s Day has turned into a bottom line. It’s become a business and it’s a billion dollar industry.

If I were in charge, I’d cancell the whole damn thing. No, I don’t say that because I’m single. I say that because the holiday is a cop out. Every time a relationship is in a bad place, Valentine’s Day can temporarily make them forget their struggles. He buys her a gift and she decides to give him another chance. Only men dump their loved ones today. No woman on Earth enjoys being single on Valentine’s Day. It would mess up their plans to gloat and make their girlfriends jealous with romantic anecdotes.

But the sad truth is, tomorrow it will all fall apart. That’s what happens when your relationship is a charade. It can’t last. So why waste your time, energy and money on it? I dub today Liberty Day. All of us stuck in a bad marriage or destructive relationship should choose today to turn our life around. Take control of your life because sometimes, being single is a whole lot better than being married. What’s romantic about being a fake, anyway?

What do you think of Valentine’s Day? Let me know in the comment box.

>The Joys of Being Single

23 Jan

>What’s so bad about being single? Nothing, really but we are constantly manipulated to think that something is wanting when we are without a partner. We but need to turn on the radio to be bombarded with the latest pop sensation crooning a love song. What’s all the fuss about? Is love really so indispensible? I don’t think it is. Yes, relationships have their perks – someone to share your life with, to discuss your hopes and dreams with. But apart from the occasional romantic gesture on Valentine’s Day, love is not all it’s cracked up to be. Do we hear a John Williams soundtrack when we lock lips with that special person? Do we overcome all obstacles and get back together at the very end? More often than not, we don’t. Not even close. Our princes would rather play a game of football with some mates, play poker or hang out at the local pub. Hardly romantic, is it? And then there’s some of them who just sit around the house all day playing computer games on their playstation because there’s this ”new, awesome game out!”. How many men actually buy us flowers or take us out to dinner? Not many. Besides, do you really want to sacrifice your spare time to babysit a 30-year old little boy? Probably not.

For one reason or another, relationships usually don’t work out. Whether it’s because we simply have different goals or don’t get along anymore, no man is worth crying over. After all, life as a single woman has many advantages. We can do whatever we like! If we want, we can belt out all our favourite pop songs without disturbance. We can hang out with our girlfriends every night or call them every hour. We don’t have to feign interest in his day-to-day sports conversations anymore or suffer through tedious chats about work, computers or cars. We can just sit back with a large tube of ice-cream and have a chick flick marathon without pesky boyfriends trying to feel us up or making us feel guilty for eating something with calories. We can flirt with whomever we like and it doesn’t come with any consequences. We can have brief, meaningless flirtations just for the fun of it and go shopping without a comment about how ”you plundered another store!” All those little habits of ours we try to hide to appeal to men can come to light again and even be celebrated. No more boys nights with rude friends we can’t stand.

Singletons live life from moment to moment. They don’t need anyone’s permission to move to Spain if they feel so inclined. When in a relationship, it limits you. When single, you are free. And it’s a great feeling. No responsibilities, no rules and regulations. You live life as you want and if anyone doesn’t like it, they can go to hell. Really, is a romantic stroll on the beach worth all the trouble? When romance is so hard to find, why do we keep looking or even worse, settle for less? Let us be free and let romance come to us. And if it doesn’t come, do we really need it?

>The Love Particle

5 Jan


                                                            Are chick flicks dangerous?

Love is all chemicals. We know that. And yet we crave it. We love to get lost in its magical aspects. Pondering over those never changing questions: Does he like me? Am I his type? What should I say? What should I wear? We’re addicted to romance. Walking hand in hand, receiving sweet text messages and accepting flowers on anniversaries. It fills our stomach with butterflies that flutter either briefly, for quite a while or forever. And we just can’t get enough. What is it about this fairy tale that makes it so desirable? Are we stuck in some phase that makes us believe we’re a princess about to be saved by a knight in shining armour? And if he arrives, on horseback naturally, how do we recognise him? How are we to know he’s not the villain of our fairy tale? Men do not speak their mind (like we do). They hate that one question: What are you thinking? Their motives are only discovered too late.

So when our princess is locked up in a tall tower with only her long, curly hair for a rope, what are we to do? We wait for our Prince Charming. But we’re not patient. We give in to temptation and settle for the Prince’s understudy. A handsome, nice enough chap who’s fun to be with. But something’s missing. It’s that ”thing”. That spark – whatever the Hell that is. And the longer we fool ourselves into thinking he’s worth staying with, the more flaws we notice. It might be something as insignificant as a loud, embarrassing laugh or bad table manners. But small flaws are soon magnified and they stomp over our hopes and dreams like an elephant in a rage. So we part ways. It’s what we do. And the search continues. But how many people find their own Mr. Darcy or even their own Hugh Grant (in Notting Hill mind you, not Bridget Jones)?

We’ve seen too many chick flicks. Our kisses aren’t accompanied by an Oscar-nominated musical score and our sex scenes don’t end with the morning-after euphoria of breakfast in bed – at least most of us don’t get that lucky. Our kisses are more of a ”what the hell is he doing” and we awake the next morning thinking; where did he go? And love at first sight, that most dangerous myth of all, exists only in fiction. We tell ourselves the men we go out with share our hopes and fears, but do they? When all is said and done, how can we separate the perverts from the princes? How do we know they don’t just want to get in our pants? We talk to them. And then there’s the smooth ones. The ones who’ve had the most practise – the masters of seduction. At least Casanova was interesting. Most of his successors shouldn’t even be allowed to stand in his shadow.

Fan-favourite Spike: the suitor we face in real life. 

And still….we don’t give up. Why? Because we’ve been fed the myth of romance since childood. How did it get started? With Barbie (an anatomically perfect blonde babe) and Ken (a sexually challenged surfer dude). And then there’s the inescapably sweet Disney classics. So in retrospect, there’s only one thing we can do to forget about our singleton woes: we should sue Disney and hit the town with our girlfriends. It’s time for a good rant
Until our next victim stops by that is. Love is pain. Even more so when we realise the love we felt was a fantasy. They say chocolate causes the same effect in the brain as an orgasm. So perhaps we should stock up on sweets until Mr. Right sweeps us off our feet.

>The Isle of Man

31 Dec


                                                                                                Man in all its Da Vinci splendour

When you read the title of my blog, it probably brings back memories of exotic holiday destinations, islands, cocktails (a word whose origin I’ve always been curious about), etc. But I do not refer to the small isle you may have learned to associate with The Isle of Man. In my mind, it is Men Planet. Men Headquarters from which all secret operations are discussed and executed. You see, the way dogs mark their territory with a golden surprise, the territory of a man too can be easily recognised. There are certain similarities that should make an alarm of suspicion blare in your head. When comparing bacherlors’ apartments, they all seem alike.

The greyness of their walls and coldness of their interior is a familiar sight for any woman lured to the predator’s nest. A porn tape may be stashed away in a distant closet no female hand is allowed to touch (unless of course the high-quality work of filmmaking is to be enjoyed together), but small signs of perversion aside, all bachelor pads seem designed by the same person. There is a high availability of high-fi technological devices such as flatscreens, stereos and computers, which by the way, is a topic of conversation best left untouched if you do not wish to be bored to death by a lengthy speech on the subject (their inner nerd is shy, but when provoked, strangely enthusiastic).

When it comes to cultural miracles such as art, books and soothing, instrumental music, a man’s apartment is oft completely devoid of these things. Men are more interested in a comfortable, practical home so they can lie on the sofa after a long day of work and watch TV (meaning sports, porn or action flicks).

These modern day bachelors are an odd breed altogether. Most consider a woman won the second her foot steps over the threshold of their front door. All ambition to seduce a woman properly and lead her down the sinful path of temptation is stifled once she agrees to have a cup of coffee at his place or however you wish to phrase it. As if agreeing to such a thing means consensual sex is a sure thing. For a man, showing a woman his home is the last step. And once a woman is seduced into his bed, what is next? Most relationships do not survive a night of passion – or five minutes of frustration in some cases.

So when you are brought to such an apartment, what does that say about you? After all, should a home not reflect the personality of its owner? Indeed, are women secretly attracted to the kind of man who would want to inhabit such a place? Do they want cheap thrills? We tell ourselves we don’t. Yet the macho man in leather jacket often lures us to his trap. Opposites attract, but the macho man can only be bed, not wed.

With a one-night stand, we have no standards. But what do we look for, for a long-term relationship? Our expectations are unrealistic perhaps. That a dashing young man will approach us in slow-motion like in commercials and whisper some intellectually stimulating pick-up line such as: “You’re hot. Are you new?” An image that does not correspond with our imaginary future boyfriend encounters. We romanticise men. Why? It makes reality a bit more bearable. Some of them must be decent. Surely. But they’re all taken…Are they?