Egypt: The People vs The Country

Do people make the country? Or, does the country make the people?
I - a very proud Egyptian - have seen a lot of the country and enough of the people and here are my thoughts:

• If the people do not have manners; the country is rude.
• If the people spit in the street; the country is disgusting.
• If the people do not shower; the country stinks.
• If the people touch their privates in the street; the country is perverted.
• If the people throw garbage in the street; the country is dirty.
• If the people do not brush their teeth; the country is full of yellow/brown smiles.
• If the people have a loud pitch; the country sounds like a hen den.
• If the people are frustrated; the country is reputed for harassment.
• If the people do not stop at red lights; the country is always congested.
• If the people do not drive safely; the country has a high accident rate.
• If the people do not fix their cars; the country is hazed out with pollution.
• If the people do not put road-signs; the country is a maze.
• If the people do not know how to drive; the country has the worst roads.
• If the people abhor rules; the country is in chaos.
• If the people do not respect schooling; the country is illiterate.
• If the people do not like to read; the country is ignorant.
• If the people insist on talking bad English; the country stutters.
• If the people do not keep their promise; the country is never taken seriously.
• If the people lie; the country is known for liars.
• If the people cheat; the country is known for fraud.
• If the people are dishonest; the country has no answers.
• If the people are not tolerant; the country is intolerable.
• If the people do not practice what they preach; the country is double-faced.
• If the people envy one another; the country is sick with jaundice.
• If the people step on one another’s toes; the country is full of swollen toes.
• If the people stab each other in the back; the country is sore with deadly wounds.
• If the people are lazy; the country is stagnant.
• If the people are artificial; the country is a disgrace.
• If the people are stoned; the country is numb.
• If the people are confused; the country loses direction.
• If the people do not know the truth; the country is misled.
• If the people are poor; the country is naked.
• If the people have no dreams; the country is dead.
• If the people do not have a present; the country will not have a future.
• If the people do not think of the future; the country will live in the past.
• If the people do not change themselves; the country will not change them.
• If I could get rid of such people; I might save the country.
• I just hate the people; but I am in love with the country.

Hail thee Ostrich Land!

I had a horrible nightmare! No! I live in a horrible nightmare! I want to wake up but it is the reality that I am living.

Today, I am not a writer; I am just a girl who is seeing red with anger and I need to vent - again.

My mom is not talking to me! Why? Because I said in my relationships segment on OTV that I "interviewed some young folks that I met when I was smoking a shisha." - Yes, that's all I said.

You might think that she did not know that I smoked shisha until I shamelessly announced it on air. Wrong! She knows and she sat with me a few times as I hubbled and bubbled.

You might think that no one else knows about my disgraceful pass-temps. No! I smoke with my brother, my male cousins, my female cousins, my colleagues, my friends, and my students - I have a shisha at home that she has seen a million times!

What is her point then? It is the same lame sentence that I have been hearing all my life: "What will people say?"

This is the same logic that is used to build the fake social facades that I abhor so much.

I am quite limited when it comes to understanding such statements. Those "people", along with ghosts, demons, and spirits, are in the same category in my head - they are there but we have our separate lives and our paths don't cross. I don't fetch them and they don't come after me - end of story.

Before my mom hung up, I promised her to announce on the coming episode, that her shame of a girl moved out a few years ago because she dared grow up!

This society is made up of male and female ostriches and I will make a fortune selling their meat - for some reason that sounds familiar in a deja vu sense.

I am not defending shisha smokers ... it is a ridiculous habit; but - excuse my metaphor - I am marking my territory from people who, undeservedly, happen to have a say in my life by peeing all over them every chance I get.

The B-Word

Did you ever disagree with a political icon, but you chose silence for obvious reasons? Do you feel trapped in mazes of invisible laser beams that strike with every breath you take? Were you ever raging with pain and anger to the point of screaming out loud, then you held back because it was not socially acceptable? Do you have things to share with the world but fear harsh judgment? Do you feel like spilling your guts out with no inhibitions whatsoever? How about taboo talk? Do you have your own opinions and experiences but you cannot risk having them discovered or uncovered? What about uncensored news? Do you seek the truth no matter how shocking or how ugly? Do you want to write until there are no thoughts left in your head? Do you want to be in control of what you write; how long, how often, and what about? Do you not keep a diary lest it falls in the wrong hands? Do you long for your very own personal impersonal online journal? Do you want to become a tiny particle of typing on the World Wide Web? Have you ever wished to become literally invisible, yet heard?

The magical B-word made it all possible; no credit card number is required, no identification is needed, no personal information is obligatory, and no one asks any questions when you create your own blog. Wikipedia defines a blog as a contraction of 'web log'; it refers to a website where entries are made in journal style and are displayed in a reverse chronological order. The term "weblog" was coined by Jorn Barger on 17 December 1997. The short form, "blog," was coined by Peter Merholz in 1999, when he jokingly broke the word weblog into the phrase we blog. This was quickly adopted as both a noun and verb ("to blog," meaning "to edit one's weblog or to post to one's weblog"). Gartner Group forecasts that blogging will peak in 2007, levelling off when the number of writers who maintain a personal website reaches 100 million.

Jenny – The Genius of Messed-up Relationships was my first blog. Jenny was a figment of my imagination; I created her and hired her to be my spokesperson three years ago. I was too hurt to talk and way too broken to write, so I decided to let Jenny express my anger, my pain, my love, my hope, and my worst fears. Just as much as any female in our society, I needed her strength and determination. With her foreign name, daring views, transparency, openness, and sarcasm Jenny stole my spot under the sun and turned me – reality – into a pale shadow of herself. She received love letters, job offers, compliments, and I had nothing. I have crossed the line between fact and fiction many a time and I have always managed to find my way back. I reached a point when I realized that unless I have the courage to speak up for myself, I will always need to be Jenny and I will always be kept in the dark. This was when I created my second blog Egyptian Fe-mail, which has my name, email, and picture. Then I created my third blog Experienced Innocence, where I posted my personal quotes. Blogging is such a liberating experience that helped me pour my brains, document my passion, and make great intellectual friends.

I have to admit that the quality of Arab bogs and the opinions of Arab bloggers are beyond impressive. Our very own young men and women are knowledgeable, expressive, cultured, and above all, they care. The Big Pharaoh* is a great writer, excellent analyst of current political events, and his arguments are bulletproof. “This blog is a way for me to voice my opinions as well as vent off my emotions.” He is a true patriot who wonders “When will Egypt return the way it was? This country once appointed a Jewish finance minister in the 30s at a time when Jews were marked with a yellow star in Germany and blacks were kicked out of “whites-only” restaurants in the US. My guess is that we need to go back to where we were 50 years ago and we have to pass through every stage medieval Europe passed through.” The Big Pharaoh comes across as an enlightened Egyptian who talks rationally about taboos that involve inter-religious conflicts, politics, and controversial books; “Most of my female friends, especially those who cover their hair, do not have a problem shaking my hand. These educated upper class girls were foolish enough to be convinced that God would punish them if they didn't cover their hair, yet fortunately they were not foolish enough to believe he'll do the same thing if they shook my hand.”

Thumbs up for the Egyptian Sandmonkey* who, on one of his posts, asked us if we knew what we wanted from the west. The result of his poll had mainly two groups “One group is angry at what they view as foreign interference in our affairs; the other group is dismayed at what they view as fake or not enough pressure exerted on our countries to reform. I can't personally decide which group confuses me more. The people that are angry at the US and the EU for exerting pressure on us to reform confuse me because they are protesting against a generally good thing that is in their benefit. They remind me of the battered wives that go bail out the husbands that are in jail for beating them … Then you have the second group and they confuse me even more; they are the ones that are mad at the US and Bush for not exerting more pressure in favor of reform, yet they never actually specify what the US is supposed to do. …The people have become so complacent, docile, afraid and apathetic that it seems that they have lost the will to move, think or act. It seems like everyone wants some change to happen, but they want someone else to do the actual work.”

Strawberry* is an Egyptian female blogger who writes about the “life of an egyptian girl with an open mind, a huge set of dreams and not enough space to realize them. Consider this a ventilation spot for me and other amazing, yet frustrated, egyptain women of my generation.” On one of her posts she wrote: “I want to avenge every woman who has been mistreated in any shape or form but I cannot do that on my own. I am on the verge of creating a memorial day for all the women who sacrificed, or have been sacrificed, to keep our society intact (something that hasn’t worked so far). So please spread the word and help me make a small difference.” Isis* is another remarkable young lady who wrote in her introduction “When we were young they taught us to stand up and speak out. Now, when we're all grown up and big they turn their words around; they tell us not to talk & want us to sit down. I won't sit in silence, I will not be ignored. I will not be invisible or quiet anymore!! I don't care about profanity; I'm a big girl and can handle big people saying nasty things.”

Mechanical Crowds* dared discuss the existence of God in one of his posts; “The Creator created the year old puzzle. Before the puzzle, the Creator was not a creator. So in a way, the puzzle created the Creator just as the Creator created the puzzle. You obviously can think of a few possible solutions to the puzzle, but none of them seem to answer all the questions to your satisfaction. You always reach a point where you’re left with a missing piece, or an extra piece. Something is wrong.” He also brought up the issue of censorship on blogs in Egypt in a brave post titled But Someone's Listening In; “There’s an Egyptian blogger who is being accused of “insulting the president”, “inciting sedition”, “disrespect of religions”, and "harming national unity". I’m sure this news makes Egyptian bloggers a little uneasy. That’s the whole point isn’t it? To make bloggers think twice before hitting that publish button. It does make me a little uneasy. It makes me sad knowing that Egypt is still that far behind on human rights. We have no choice but to voice our opinions anyway, regardless of whether or not it is well received. If this news makes us bloggers resort to self-censorship then there is no point in writing … Fortunately, you don’t have to pay such a high price for saying your opinion; publishing your opinions on an anonymous blog should be safe.”

Ghawayesh* is a female blogger who is living in Europe but her heart stayed back home. “Ghawayesh means bracelets. In my context it symbolizes the cuffs of my culture. I don't know if I like them or hate them.” She is more concerned with the impact of our culture and tradition on our women; “Since childhood we can only play with dolls and kitchen appliances. Results: We are programmed to realize that we should be good house-keepers and baby-carers. I bought my son a mini-washing machine, mini-vacuum cleaner, mini-iron and ironing board, mini-kitchen, and a baby doll (and they are all among his favorite toys), and when my (Egypt-based and Egypt-minded) sister saw that, she was stunned, and said: "Your son will become a homo". As we grew up, we constantly heard: "You're a girl, you can't do that. Only boys can do that". "That" can be anything adventurous; demanding physical strength; technical thinking or action; or freedom of movement. Result: We are cripples! Hey! We are women and we need a man to save us, right? A girl's main goal in life should be to hunt down a man. No matter how high we reach, we are *nothing* without a man.”

A study done by Maktoob.com*, covering over 40,000 blogs, showed a clear stand towards politics, with a percentage of 40% bloggers voicing their concerns on recent issues. Cultural topics were the second with 25 %; however literature, entertainment and internet issues followed closely. The blog phenomenon enabled many journalists & writers to reach out to a wider audience outside of their own home countries. Prime examples are Yasser Abu Hilalah, the Jordan-based President of Al Jazeera TV & Ahmad Mofaq Zidan, The Afghanistan-based President of Al Jazeera T.V. Both are political journalists' bloggers in Maktoobblog.com who have evoked a strong response from the Internet browsing community. Blogs have revolutionized the way aspiring writers can communicate with their audiences, while gaining their readers' feedback instantly through the use of interactive comments.

Jeeran.com* – neighbors – is another example of the blogging outburst. Since launching its blogging service in November 2005, Jeeran's bloggers’ community has grown tremendously reaching a count of 35,000 blogs and 110,000 posts to date. Laith Zraikat, Co-founder, and Director of Innovation of Jeeran says that "Being the largest bloggers community in the Arab World, Jeeran can closely monitor topics presented and discussed in the Arab blogosphere.” Omar Koudsi, Co-founder and president of Jeeran adds “Many of the Arab bloggers do not like to be classified under one category; 24% of the total choose to categorize their blogs under Personal; this allows them to state their opinions in many issues including, but not limited to, politics and social issues. In addition, many of our members are tech savvy, leading to 14% of our bloggers classified under Computer & Technology. Surprisingly, other categories follow with very close percentages shedding light on bloggers dedicating their writings to topics like arts, education & culture, religion & spirituality, and sports.” Jeeran attracted some prominent journalists and politicians in the Arab world like Rashid Al Mudawwer (Moroccan Parliament Member), Mohammed Lachayeb (Moroccan Parliament Media Consultant), Tawfiq Al Rayyash (Bahraini Journalist), Batir Wardam (Jordanian Journalist and Environmental Activist) and that is just to name a few.

Out of sheer curiosity, I looked into Saudi blogs by women. 24-year old Jo is a Saudi female who posts regularly on A Thought in the Kingdom of Lunacy*. She is peeling layers and layers of the smelly onion of social hypocrisy. Having lived in London, Jo is still finding it hard to adjust. “Now that I am not allowed a life … From midnight till about 3 AM you’ll find me on the rooftop smoking and thinking … I usually have my phone to keep me company during that time – thank God for mobile phones here … It’s difficult to have any time to yourself when you’re living in a city like London. You have so many distractions … I think that if it weren’t for having to spend so much time by myself then it would have taken me a lot longer to grow up. I can remember getting so agitated at the small things and … But now I could care less about getting my way … One other major change in me is my lack of ambition now. I’ve lost interest in so many things. For one thing I was quite fanatical about politics … I have lost complete interest in whatever is going on in the world … All I want right now is to just head back home – London, working a 9-5 job that pays me just enough to pay my bills and maybe have some cash left over at the end of each month for a teeny bit of fun … I think I’ve grown up enough and it’s time to go home.”

Saudi Eve* touched my heart when she wondered “What would happen if today, instead of having my chauffeur drive my car, I drive it myself? No, not with twenty other women in a parade ... just plain ol' me going to work. What would happen if today, instead of saying God bless you to any person who recites (that) a perfumed woman being adulterous, I sue for slander and emotional trauma? What would happen if today, instead of saying "oops", smiling, then passing the spoon to my right hand, I say "I am a ****** lefty you ****** imbecile!. I can't eat with my ****** right hand even if it meant that the ****** devil will get a ****** bite of my ****** kabsa. So unless you'd ****** feed me yourself – with your ****** right hand of course – say bon ****** appétit Mr. Devil.” I never thought I would live to read a Saudi “erotic” story. Mystique, the blogger posting to The Emancipation of Mystical Thoughts*, writes about romantic escapades and her girlish dreams and desires of love and warmth. Her last post was on November 20th and it was a letter to her readers: “Mystique created history and she's history. I'll miss you … Mahmoud Darwish once wrote: One day I shall become what I want; one day I shall become a Thought, a Bird, a Poet.”

Until Death do us Part

Until Death Do Us Part

(Shuffle)

Another Stupid Adult

“I love you; I know how to make you happy; I am so strong; I will make you faint on our wedding night!” He said with pride to his future bride – yours truly – 12 years ago. I cannot deny that there are times when I wonder how my life would have differed had I not called off my wedding. If I woke up on the right side of the bed, my thoughts took me to a cozy house with a loving husband and lovely kids; but if it was one of my countless bad hair days, I envisioned a miserable wife in a boring marriage with teary-eyed kids, and suffering sleepless nights contemplating a flawless murder. I am certain that had I married the guy who used to exercise his “stick”, or the guy who wanted to deliver his own babies, or the alcoholic, or the neurotic, or the psychotic, or the caveman, or any other guy, I would have been divorced. I do not think I would have made it past the first month, let alone the first year. I was miraculously saved but not everyone was as lucky; some were even as unlucky as ending their marriage months after it started.

What fed their dreams to the shredder? What turned their vows into curses? To love but not to hold? For the better but not for the worst? For the richer because no one wants the poorer? In health but never in sickness? What would make a young bride runaway from the love nest? What would make prince charming flee on his not-so-white horse? Was it a bad choice? Was it that marriage put an end to the dating farce? Is it the lies? Is it the false pretences? Could it be expectations? Could their premature divorce be the only natural outcome of the marriage of a couple who were incubated in a schizophrenic society? Am I being too pessimistic? Am I being too realistic? To get my answers I had to ask the men and women in question. I wanted neither the staged sugar-coated replies nor the decent socially smart conclusions; I wanted the ugly shocking truth – the kind of truth that neither feared exposure nor knew any inhibitions. I created a male account on an adult site to lure the girls and a female account to entrap the guys. I searched for divorced men and women between the age of 21 and 30. I got my answers … and more.

Sara is 25, she got married when she was 21 to the man she loved since she was 16. She is on that site looking for a man who could love her and give her the warmth that her marriage was deprived of. She cannot take off her veil because of her family; she cannot get a divorce because she does not want to move in again with her parents. But deep down, she feels divorced and acts accordingly. Mohamed (28), her husband, is addicted to adult dating sites, and he is on that same site chasing women and doting on them, while she is withering at home alone - or in the arms of someone else. She has been demoted from wife to roommate, and he does not want to have kids. Mohamed’s pictures with his “girlfriends”, his chats, and his mementos are right under her nose – he does not care enough to wipe his traces. “Sara owes me”, he revealed to my male alias; he married her knowing that she was not a virgin. He believes that his actions are righteous and justified, and that she should be grateful that he saved her, and her family, from shame. “I will get a divorce eventually … I am so unhappy” said Sara and Mohamed not knowing that I was talking to both of them.

Mostafa (29) is another story; he fell in love with Menna (24) and after a dating period of one year, they got married with the blessings of both families. The marriage lasted for one problem-filled year, and finally they got a divorce. Mostafa is looking for sex. He wants to prove that the divorce was not his fault; he keeps saying that he is good in bed and is very desirable but his wife was distant and frigid. He wrote countless lines describing how passionate he is and how he knows and understands exactly what women need. Mostafa has watched plenty of xx rated movies and he wanted to re-enact each and every scene with his wife only to be faced with her shocked eyes and expressionless face. When he noticed that I was reserved, he snapped at me saying “I do not need another inexpressive b****.” Zeina (23) enjoyed talking to my female alias; she was the one doing the hunting. Her marriage lasted for three months. One night, she got a call from a hospital telling her that her husband has been in an accident. Being the dutiful wife she was, she hurried to the hospital only to be told that her husband was involved in a homosexual “gathering” that obviously went sour – they beat him up, raped him, and threw him in the street. Zeina does not want to get married again.

Khaled (30) and Mona (25) had an arranged marriage. Khaled had drinking problems and a very unstable career. He had tantrums and Magda’s face and body paid for his insecurity. He used to cry and she used to forgive him. The frequency of the frenzies increased and she could not take it anymore; hence, the divorce. Magda does not want to meet anyone; she is just looking for venting space. Karim (23) is living in a dreamy bubble of his own. He got married right after he graduated to his college sweetheart. He wanted to love her forever. He loved her hair, her sweet voice, her shy gaze, and how she understood him well. After their marriage one shock followed the other; her body hair, her morning breath, her horrible cooking, her hair in the bathtub, her monthly pads in the waste bin, her watching TV all night, and many other little things that he never imagined in his sugar babe. Karim used to believe in love, now he believes in co-habilitation before marriage – even if it was just short trips.

Mira (25) has a two-year old girl from a horrible marriage. He was 20 years older and was extremely jealous; his fits erupted whenever he caught a man looking at her. Mira told me that she had to quit work. She avoided unmarried female friends and all male friends. She was afraid to greet a relative she ran into in the street and, by time, everyone avoided her too. On the other hand, Salem had plenty of affairs and he used to brag about them all the time and Mira had to either pretend that she was deaf or that she knew he was joking. “My daughter is a blessing but Salem threatened to take her if I got married … I need a man and if I cannot get a husband then so be it.” Jina (26) got divorced two years after her marriage because of her mother in law; “the woman had no clue what privacy meant. She had a key to our house and used it at anytime. She asked about what we ate, where we went, and how many times we did it. My ex was not man enough to protect our marriage from such an invasion. I have no regrets other than marrying him in the first place.”

Sally (22) was the victim of a sadist; “he used to whip me when I was late, burn me when I asked questions, sodomize me in return for money, and stick a needle in sensitive parts of my body for every mistake he said I made. He told me that this was because he loved me and he wanted me to be a better person. I used to cry a lot and I was so embarrassed; I could not tell anyone what was happening behind our closed doors.” Sally submitted to his sick needs and desires for six months until, one day she fainted in the street and the passer-bys took her to the hospital. There the doctors were horrified and they called her husband and her family. She got her divorce on that same day. Sally told me that she never knew the man she got married to and that she found herself in a house with a total stranger who used her and abused her in the name of love. Her mother told her on her wedding night that a respectful wife obeyed her husband and kept him satisfied – otherwise he would leave her. Sally blamed her family for her disaster of a marriage; “they over-sheltered me to protect me but it was their ways that made me an appealing prey for such a sick man. I learned the hard way and I am now gaining my own experiences. I am not thinking of marriage; I just want to explore the world.”

The men and women who shared with me their sob stories are victims of our society. The double standards that they are brought up to adopt create what we call in business, an execution gap. There is a big void between where we really are and where we want to be; what we want and what we have; how we feel and how we act. We drown in an abyss of deluding illusions, unrealistic expectations, fake emotions, consuming demands, and the inevitable frustration. We get married for the wrong reasons; we mistake lust for love and confuse stability with stagnation. Mothers are over protective as though they want to suck us back into their wombs. Fathers discriminate between their sons and daughters. Women do not practice what they preach; they sing to the deaf ears of their male counterparts. Men do not meet the promises they make; they play to the sensitive tunes of the female vulnerability. Traditions, manners, taboos, and religion mix in one melting pot that defines stereotyped outlines for our ideal character and our perfect mate. We are dictated the answers to all the quizzes but we are left to face the final tests alone – we fail with flying colors.

The Toy Boy Nightmare

A few years ago I wrote a letter to Santa asking for my perfect man; I went into details describing his character, his career, his attitude, his manners, his looks, his star sign, his Chinese sign, his marital status, his hygiene standards, his beliefs, and his outlook on life. I had a long list of things that Santa should avoid but it did not cross my mind to ask for a man my age or a few years older; I thought it went without saying that younger guys were not an option. I used to wonder what some of my friends found in a guy who was 5, 7, or 10 years younger that they were. I used to wonder what a young guy had to say to someone who was carrying her schoolbag when he was sucking on his thumb. My heart went out to those ladies who had to bear the inquisitive eyes that followed them wherever they took their toy boy. I was so certain that I will never walk the famous mile in their shoes. I assured myself that I am bulletproof safe from that kind of disgusting despair. I knew that I will never be as lonely or as insane as they were. I surprised myself … I was wrong!

It all started when I noticed that 22 & 23 year old guys found me attractive; whether they were students in my classes or trainees in my workshops, I used to smile and gently push them out of my way. I felt flattered but I was always in control of my actions and emotions. Last year I made a slight exception – a year or two younger is not such a big deal, especially if he is well-traveled, well-exposed, and well set in his career. My toy-boy-alarm was in the making; just the thought of me settling for this type of public humiliation gave me immediate palpitations. Last January, a 24 year old writer developed a crush on me; he was young, cute, and, on top of it all, he had great brains. Instead of redirecting his route away from me, I caught myself red-handed flirting with him. A dreamy “I don’t want to lose you” flew out of his mouth to slap me on the face. The harsh wake-up call startled me ... what on earth was I doing? But then I ignored the voice of reason and enjoyed listening to his passionate compliments about how I made him feel and how much he wanted to be with me. He got attached and I sobered up; I vanished and he was hurt.

A few weeks later, I crossed paths with another writer – 7 years younger! This time my defenses were up and I would not allow myself to repeat my previous mistake. I turned this connection into an online intellectual friendship but I am still curious about the other side of the fence. I dedicated a special dark corner in my head where I buried all such thoughts and feelings – they just scared me. I am 32 but luckily, because I tend to be well-maintained, I do not look it – it was never about looks, was it? I am a single independent career-oriented girl who is starved for love and attention. I miss being in a relationship and I miss the little things that add a warming flavor to my spreadsheet of a life; the surprises, the love words, the excitement before a date, the dreamy reminiscence after a date, and the phone calls that are directly wired to my heart. I want to have a plan for the weekend and someone to look forward to talking to. I want to come out of my class to find a missed call or a text message from someone – not my mother, not my friends, and not work-related.

Is it that I do not meet enough men? Is it that I do not attract them? No! There are plenty of them around me but I just do not like them. I do not like their baggage; be it an ex wife, a current wife, kids, bad experiences, imbedded resentment for women, commitment phobia, independence-related selfishness, emotional stinginess, financial stinginess, lack of expressiveness, over-eagerness, hair loss, muscle loss, a spare tire around their waist, or a midlife crisis. Men who are my age, or a bit older, have given up on life or given in to life. They are either married, defeated, depressive, deformed, or plain ugly. The few who are eligible candidates do not want to be with me, my dozen professions, and my radical opinions. They do not want an equal and cannot accept a superior; they want a young girl whom they could control, boss around, guide, and manipulate in the name of love! They want a young mother for their kids and an inexperienced wife in their bed. Let’s face it: at the age of 35, a guy can easily have a healthy relationship with someone who is 25, 26, 27 or 28 years old. I am developing a scary form of cannibalism; young hearts, fresh skin, and green minds attract me. I love the puppy-love look in their hope-filled eyes, the sweet compliments, the need to be with me and around me, the attention, the eagerness to please, the fear of loosing me, and the pride of showing me off to their friends.

I met my most recent prey by coincidence – ironically before one of my relationships episodes on TV. We talked before I started filming and the chemistry was there; the flow was so natural and interesting. After I was done, he told me that I sounded so intellectual and that I was great, then he asked me to wait for him until he was done with his segment. His words caressed the proud tigress in me and, at the same time, touched my maternal instinct. I was caught off guard! I was so confused. He is 26, obviously young, very successful, creative, witty, sarcastic, and funny. Two weeks later he took my number, and we went out on a …. emmmm …. meeting. To add a few years to his age, he wore masculine cologne, did not talk much, and smiled scarcely. I enjoyed his company and loved his wit. I did not mind his age or the different life he led; we were extreme opposites yet I missed him, enjoyed talking to him, gave him space in my mind, and looked forward to seeing him again. I felt that I lived in a glass house and I was under the illusion that people are throwing stones at me; when my producer asked me how he was, I said that he was too young!

The sad news is that just as much as I can see through the lonely over-eager older guys, younger guys can see through the false tough façade that I so brilliantly set up for myself. I have become so trained on picking up the vibes of desperate hunters, and young guys can easily sense my cannibalism and need for affection. Old worn out bodies with heavy cynical heads turn me off, and young white-slate girls pose as viable competitors. The four players – older guys, me, younger guys, and young girls – formed an infamous hide and seek game. I have no living proof of the success or the continuity of any such toy boy relations. I do not like the way I see the future – I see a 45 year old hag hunting young mouthwatering kids and devouring their hopes, aspirations, and futures. This is topping the chart of my worst fears. I will save my thoughts, shut down my laptop, sleep, and when I wake up I want it to be over. I want to be stronger and in control again. I am so vulnerable; I have nightmares – toy boy nightmares.

100 “GOOD GIRL” TIPS - Marketing Analogy

Your vision:
To be perceived as a good girl at all times.

Your mission:
To bend over backwards to please others.

Your positioning statement:
The Ultimate Denying Experience (apologies to BMW)

Your target audience:
Vain ladies and gentlemen.

Your objectives:
Trial and, hopefully, purchase.

Your Marketing Mix:
Product: You
Price: Your Life
Place: "Good girl" outlets though "good girl" distribution channels
Promotion:
1) Advertising - Personal ads & word of mouth
2) Public Relations - Favorable speeches & crisis management strategies
3) Sales Promotion - Limited edition (until putting on a ring on the naked left finger)
4) Direct Marketing - Cute emails & regular SMSes to all eligible bachelors and mothers of potential bachelors
5) Personal Selling - Promote your cooking, sewing, budgeting, and loving competive advantages in all outings

Alf alf mabrouk (Congrats!)

100 “GOOD GIRL” TIPS - Chapter 10

Chapter 10 – The “good guy” you deserve

1) As long as he comes home in the end, he can do as he pleases.
2) As long as he feeds you, keep your mouth shut.
3) He can force you to stay home – you never had a career anyway.
4) He can boss you around – you never had an opinion, so why complain now?
5) He can be as disrespectful as he wants, and you can cry as much as you want.
6) He can beat you up for every white lie he discovered.
7) He is fully entitled to isolate you from the female friends you never had.
8) A “good guy” is jealous; you will never get to wear your stashed wardrobe.
9) He will never tarnish your innocence and take you dancing; he will have a girlfriend to escort him.
10) If you give birth to a baby girl, he will make sure she is brought up as a “good girl”!

Conclusion:

I proudly announce that, over the past 10 years, I have managed to convert from being a “good girl” to a “bad girl”.

100 “GOOD GIRL” TIPS - Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – Absolute NOs

1) Drinking is totally unacceptable – it is always your first sip.
2) Girls with a tattoo are bad – have yours in a hidden place.
3) Girls with a belly piercing are loose – hide yours but talk about it.
4) You always have a curfew – it is always the first time you’ve missed it.
5) Dancing is for “bad girls”, “good girls” stare and curl their lips.
6) “Good girls” never go to bars or pubs – it is always your first time.
7) Love? Every man you meet is your first, and last, love!
8) Sex? What sex?
9) Internet dating; a “good girl” always rises above such obscenities.
10) Strength, brains, independence, career, and a life are male-repellents.

100 “GOOD GIRL” TIPS - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Your weapons

1) Tears will get you out of absolutely anything.
2) Apologies will erase any opinion you might have accidentally voiced.
3) Blindfolds; put them on and rest in peace.
4) Mouth gags are a great tool to keep your mouth shut when hurt and if insulted.
5) Your back; turn it to anyone who needs help and you will never get in trouble.
6) Put on a sad face and you will always be the adorable center of attention.
7) Put on the lost princess look and a savior is bound to show up.
8) White lies were created to make you prettier.
9) Black lies were created to make your man happier.
10) A veil will give you immunity – put it on and do as you please.

100 “GOOD GIRL” TIPS - Chapter 7

Chapter 7 – Your career

1) The sole purpose of working is to meet Mr. Right.
2) Avoid careers; “good guys” do not appreciate them.
3) Get a job that gives you minimum exposure and zero fulfillment.
4) A promotion is not an achievement; finding a man is.
5) A trip abroad is never good news.
6) Be a friend to all.
7) “Good girls” do not talk to their male colleagues.
8) If you have to talk to them, make it strictly professional.
9) Your male boss and colleagues are werewolves in disguise.
10) Your female boss and colleagues are always jealous – poor you!