Challenging the Dragon in the Eye of the Sun

“Imagination was given to man to compensate him for what he is not; a sense of humor to console him for what he is.”

- Sir Francis Bacon

I woke up gasping for air after another nightmare and I knew that this would be another sleepless night. I reached out for his book as though I needed to feel his presence. No one has ever dedicated anything to me - I read the dedication he wrote me one more time; in his head I am smoking apple flavored shisha on my terrace, staring at the stars, obsessing about my toothbrush, and coloring my world in orange. I am not an avid reader of Arabic literature but Ahmed Naje’s Rogers was anything but disappointing.

Reading Rogers felt like sitting next to a remarkable storyteller as he flipped through his photo album and told me the story of each shot. Instead of turning moments into fading memories, Ahmed decided to capture the essence of his childhood memories, school days, traumas, family icons, wars, and amours in his book. The prose and narration, along with his vivid imagery, textured descriptions, and forward colors gave life to each of his characters. His attention to detail can be easily traced in his descriptions – the mosquito scene on his grandfather’s hand is just one example.

Ahmed Naje’s Rogers is a canvas of memories and snapshots where fact and fiction are woven beyond identification. His imagination fed stories to his green inquisitive mind. Questions like the existence of God, the creation and “sewing” of the human body, the laws of attraction, and the need to create a utopia are just a few fragments of his enigmatic book. Unlike other picture albums, Naje’s pictures are far from perfect; he has no reluctance in showing his scars, his fears, his dreams, and his frustrations – as a little boy and as an adult. As a reader, you cannot help but identify with the feelings that each shot evokes.

Feeling the air blow against his face, walking by the river, and seeing green fields set a striking contrast between his life at his hometown and his life in “the big city” where suffocating cement blocks turn his stomach and only the thought of a revolution or a supernatural gift for larceny cause his mental orgasms. The most visible themes revolve around his grandparents, his parents, his street, his cruel teacher, his girlfriend, his undefined female friend, and his best friend. On a deeper level you can trace his unanswered questions – starting from God to his very own existence and his chosen path.

With lots of imagination Naje, echoing Roger Waters of Pink Floyd’s Album “The Wall”, created a brick wall between his reality and his fantasy land. In his own words and using his own palette he decided to color his pictures adding one brick after the other to the wall that he often crossed in his first book – Rogers.

The S-Word

Like a sword the s-word cuts through our lives; starting and ending relationships; labeling and tagging people; torturing some and relieving others. I grew up watching our Egyptian cinema turning sex into a shameful repulsive act where the woman is defeated and the man is delighted. The message was very clear: women who “give in” to men without a legally binding document end up suffering one way or the other. The s-word turns them into social outcasts, black sheep, or infamous notorious creatures of the night. The man usually vanishes leaving behind a bereaved creature pulling her hair and tearing apart what’s left of her clothes as a sign of intense remorse. Some of those women were portrayed to show further suffering when the seed of the affair blossoms into a child. With nothing but disdain and a curled lip, the voice of our intact society would echo in our ears saying “I told you so!”

In our modern cinema, girls can flirt and tease as much as they pleased but the s-word is still frowned upon. Those engaging in premarital sex strive throughout the movie to set two wrongs right – and of course it is the girl who is always doing her very best to get a ring on the damn finger. Other tragic heroines, whose character flaw is their lustful nature, have to go through a painful catharsis whereby they are humiliated, rejected, mortified, and eventually forgiven, or killed in an accident. In the first dénouement, being forgiven in this sense means that they have learnt their lesson and that they will lead a life of penance and “virtue” until a fine gentleman sees how far they have changed and kindly accepts to give them a ring. In the second scenario - where they die - they have paid in full for their mortal sin and now they can just die to set an example for the living.

Today a fellow writer, in a casual chat, asked me why girls refuse and adamantly resist getting intimate with their beau. He complained of the fact that girls feel that the s-word impacts the interest, or the lack of interest, of a guy in a girl. He bluntly asked me why girls fear losing the guy once they have sex with him. I was not the only one watching those movies; I could even consider myself lucky because I was a late bloomer in my relationship with the silver screen. Decade after another, such movies spread the guilt culture in our shame society. As if FGM (female genital mutilation) was not enough to create lifetime barriers between our girls and their sexuality, we have a whole culture preaching the virtue of a hymen.

Arabic movies, books, and anecdotes planted a deeply rooted conviction that girls who are “dishonorable” are not fit for being wives or mothers. The same influences caused men to believe that a girl who expresses her love physically is loose; hence the famous analogies between a girl’s honor and a match stick, a brand new car and a second hand car, and the famous piece of meat covered in sticky flies. My maid once noticed that my cats were not playing together and threw me a casual comment saying “why would he want to even see her face … he already took what he wanted … he is just a man!”

I have many male friends who, in my presence, share their success stories and conquests in the female world. Their verbiage and jargon are of the most offensive type; verbs like jumped, humped, and scored are very popular. So even if a guy is sitting there all polished and cleaned up for his girl, she could still sense the jump-hump-score sequel. Our men are known to be sweet-talkers and to be very expressive in the beginning of the relationship; an American friend of mine, who laments ever getting married to her educated Egyptian hubby, told me that he swept her off her feet with his words, attention, and passion – this is what our men do.

But once the girl loses touch with the ground, she falls … she falls hard and is most likely to break her neck, smash her head, or crack her back. She survives the fall only to live with a permanent disability. Experience taught girls to hold back; they learnt to disguise their feelings in a cloak of callousness for self preservation purposes. Our generation of men and women are confused; everything that they were taught as kids is being questioned as adults. Our very same inhibited women and our very own conservative men, once in the presence of a foreigner are transformed. The women no longer feel judged and the men no longer feel pressured and questioned – what a mess!

I am not for or anti premarital sex. There are so many variables in the equation and our society is not ready for a generalization of any sort at this point of time; if I tell girls to go ahead and to release their inhibitions, I will be damned. If I tell them to resist and to fight the natural urge for intimacy, I am a lying hypocrite. I will just leave it at the point where it is a case by case scenario and I will conclude on a final note to the guys: mental shackles are way worse than metal shackles. We will get out of our dungeons, when we no longer fear your dragons.

Women are like Ducks!

A few years back Shania Twain inspired me to sketch an analogy between men and shoes. At the time, I had settled for a very wrong pair of shoes; uncomfortable from the start, though highly maintained, they lost their allure as time passed, and I realized that I have invested a fortune of emotions into a fake, yet well polished pair of mismatched sneakers. Today, for no justified reason, I decided to come clean with a new confession; women are like ducks. When I look at women, instead of faces, I see ducks. There are several categories of ducks in my world; wild ducks, stuffed ducks, black ducks, and sitting ducks. There are pure, hybrid, and deformed breeds of ducks … Let me illustrate to give you a better idea.

Wild ducks are fearless spirits, risk-takers, and trend-setters. In the prairie, among beasts they live, yet highly respected and well positioned. No one dares pluck their feathers, tame, mold, frame, or domesticate them. Those creatures are often criticized, rejected, and resisted but it never makes them any weaker or milder. Whether other ducks look up to them or look down on them, they just cannot be as wild or as free. Unlike black ducks, they know who they are, what they want, and where they want to go. Wild ducks end on a plate only if shot dead or ambushed.

At the other extreme, black ducks are outcasts; like their market value, their self esteem, and their social acceptance are low. Their flaw could be related to their physique, social disposition, spiritual inclination, tarnished reputation, or unheard of ideas. Black ducks are sentenced to a lifetime of isolation and alienation – and it hurts them. A black duck wants to be unnoticed, unheard, unseen, and, in a way, invisible. They are the geeks, the nerds, and the pimple-faced teenagers that never grow into anything more assertive. Since the men of this world are not blessed with insight into their souls, black ducks, end up alone or on the plate of an equal male outcast. Being a black duck is a stigma that neither time nor blood could erase.

Going down the ladder, stuffed ducks are a delight to look at and a pleasure to feast over. They are perfect for social occasions and for showing off purposes – each man on the table has a stuffed duck on his plate! Being full of rice, onions, and any leftovers in the fridge, stuffed ducks look bigger and better than other ducks – posh and grand. They lure men by their big bloated over-fed over-exposed over-stuffed appearance only to give them, instead of nourishing meat, a plate full of constipating legumes. Needless to say, one can only handle that much of stuffed fowl. Their mission in life is to look good – and stuffed! Stuffed ducks land on the plate of whoever pays more.

Sitting ducks are pathetically lovely; you can caress them, fondle them, shoot them, cook them, stuff them, or cage them. They are tame, demure, docile, and disciplined. Sitting ducks are anything but confrontational – they will whine, complain, and bitch about something to everyone and anyone but their offender. Sitting ducks have neither flying abilities nor argumentative capabilities; they are an easy catch, a quick dump, and a perfect emotional punching bag. They do not land on a man’s plate; they end up in his fridge for use when there is no other food on his table – sitting ducks are always taken for granted and never appreciated.

Our culture encourages sitting ducks, exiles wild ducks, despises black ducks, and craves for stuffed ducks, but pure breeds are rare nowadays; for example, I am a hybrid of wild and black ducks- and that says it all about me. Men drool over the offspring of crossbreeding stuffed ducks and sitting ducks; such ducklings fit all the molds of our patriarchal society. Some men are stupid enough to think that they can turn a wild duck into a sitting duck, or even worse, turn a black duck into a stuffed duck. The most hazardous type is a mix of wild ducks and stuffed ducks; they think they rule the word.

Continuing the bird analogy, I would classify swans, ostriches, and birds of prey as deformed breeds. Swans are the vain girls who do not practice what they preach; they claim to be on a high ethical pedestal when their feet are in deep mud. Ostriches burry their heads in the sand thinking they outsmarted everyone when they are nothing but blind, stupid, and ignorant. They easily point out the flaws in others, and because their heads are in the sand, they believe that no one could see their flaws. Hawks are a carnivorous strain of women that feeds on its own friends and loved ones. They are full of envy, venom, evil, and have zero tolerance and no resilience. Multiple deformities occur but the outcome is a creature that is, at best, disgusting.

Horizontal Relationships – Updates and Q&A

Update:
It has been almost two weeks since I wrote about my experience with horizontal relationships. I promised to be honest with my updates and here I am again. Natural selection and Darwinism played their role in filtering my eggs. I have to admit that I was so sad to lose three of my guys; yes, I lost three in one week!

The first guy was too pushy and all our conversations started with and ended in WH-Questions; where are you? Why don’t you answer my calls? What are you doing? Who are you with?

The second and the third are only good for desperate girls who have nothing better, or no one better, to invest in. They were both nice to flirt with but it started and ended with nothing but high school games – so futile and so unproductive.

I still like the fourth but I am missing the fun and excitement of putting my eggs in more than one basket. I feel that I am sliding slowly in a vertical relationship simply because I do not like anyone else at the moment.

Q&A

What is a vertical relationship?

Vertical relationships mean that you are in a relationship with one person whom you get to know, understand, appreciate, and love by time. This is a type of relationships that involves a lot of trust, dependability, possessiveness, and depth. If you are in a vertical relationship, you invest deeply and seriously in the relationship and in the partner - you put all your eggs in one basket, so to speak. If that basket falls, your losses are countless. Vertical relationships do not have a depth limit to them ... so if you stay a day and you dig a meter then when you are there for a week it is another few meters ... and so on ... as long as you are investing then it is vertical how far, how long, how deep, do not change the vertical aspect.

What are horizontal relationships?
“Your eggs” in horizontal relationships are randomly distributed in several baskets; you do not place all your bets on one horse and your investments are diversified to secure you from bankruptcy. Horizontal relationships are neither fake nor superficial; they are just not deep enough to cause serious damage should someone try to pull your tooth out.

Horizontal relationships are a great illustration of how the sum of the parts could be bigger than the whole; each one of your partners alone would make a wrong partner, but together their weaknesses seem to vanish with the sense of perfection they bring into your life. There is a continuous elimination process ... sort of a survival for the fittest process. If one of them becomes a burden or too much work he is expelled and replaced when I happen to like someone else. The value of the relationship is directly proportional to what the partner brings into your life. It is the ideal antidote for taking someone for granted; you snooze ... you loose.

What is the difference between horizontal relationships and open relationships?
In an open relationship, you are in a relationship with one main partner but you allow yourself to play with others. In horizontal relationships your one and only commitment is to yourself; what you feel like doing and who you feel like being with.

What is the difference between horizontal relationships and friends with benefits?
Friends with benefits are basically friendships that got comfortable enough to allow physical episodes. Horizontal relationships involve all the dating aspects. It is not a friendship.

What is the difference between horizontal relations and casual dates?
Casual dates have zero depth. You do not want, or care, to know your partner. You just want to spend some good time. In horizontal relations you genuinely care. You are sincere.

Can my horizontal partner be married?
No - It makes you his mistress not his partner.

Can my horizontal partner be dating someone else?
If he/she does not know, then no - It makes it an affair not a relationship.

Can my horizontal partner keep me in the dark?
No - you turn from a partner to a dark nasty ugly disgusting secret.

What are the advantages of having horizontal relationships?

* Emotional Independence - You will never need to depend on the presence or absence of one person in your life.
* Fulfillment - You will never feel lonely, bored, hurt, insulted, or cheated, and you will never have to spend another weekend alone.
* Attention - You will always have a date, and worst case scenario, you will always have an email, a text message, or a phone call to put a smile on your face.
* Balance - I am never too available, too focused, too critical, or too demanding simply because what one man lacks the other fulfills and I feel loved and cared for all the time.
* Content - moreover, when one man slouches, instead of reprimanding him, as I used to, I would just give more room for the other three to fill in the void that was left behind.
* Horizontal relationships are, so far, liberating, fulfilling, pleasant, and they add a different flavor to each day.

What are the disadvantages of horizontal relationships?

* If you are not the organized type, you will suffer stress, overlapping schedules, exhaustion, and the wear and tear of your mind trying to cope with the constant change.
* If you are the melancholic type, you will long for the intimacy the builds up in vertical relationships.
* If you are the committed type, this will not work for you!
* If you are looking for marriage and kids, this will not work for you too!
* Confusion and mixed up emotions is very likely to happen.
* Subconsciously comparing your partners is always a threat.
* Becoming too self-involved and too self-centered is a natural outcome.

* Being called a slut by people who cannot understand what you are saying.

What are the rules?

* Honesty is the first and foremost of all the rules; never lie about, or hide from, the fact that you are having multiple partners.
* Do as you would be done by – you are still an ethical person who does not step allover people in the name of horizontal relationships.
* Do not promise exclusivity when that is not the case.
* Do not claim to enjoy horizontal relationships hoping to entrap a vertical partner. This strategy is doomed to backfire.
* You have to truly, genuinely, and sincerely like your partners – all of them. This is not as easy as it sounds. Most of the time, people who are used to vertical relationships would like one partner and line up the others to fill in his shoes in case of absence or misconduct. This strategy is fatal; being with people you do not like, or with people you like half heartedly, will push you back forcibly into the arms of the one partner you like – and we all know how being clingy is inversely proportionate with being loved.
* I have always pleaded for equality, and it is only fair to remind you that you are free to come and go as you please and so are your partners.

Do you get jealous in horizontal relationships?
Every now and then you will feel a tingling sense of jealousy towards one of your partners but it is never as suffocating or as painful as the jealousy you feel towards your sole partner in vertical relationships. Were there a “flirting nerve” in our body, then this is the type of jealousy that triggers it.

Jealousy happens for two reasons: 1) you are insecure, or 2) you have higher expectations that what your partner could fulfill.

In this type of relationship, you are not insecure and you have zero expectations ... so the only jealousy that you feel is when you see that person showing interest in someone else ... when that happens, it just makes you more competitive and territorial in a positive way - you will try to be a better person instead of turning his life into a living hell.

“As time passes and u check your investment u will find minimum return corresponding to the minimum effort, time”
False! As time passes the weak eggs perish and you are only left with the strong assets. Plus who said anything about minimum effort and minimum time? Horizontal relationships are neither fake nor superficial; they just help you get what you want without pressuring people to give what they are not capable of.

“With time this wont be acceptable, with time we will all long for intimacy to fill the void inside us.”
False! If you are so dependent on intimacy then you are not equipped for horizontal relations. Check the definitions above to know where you are and what you are getting yourself into.

“Horizontal relationships are like takeaway food; it stops your hunger but u can not remember its taste.”
False! One night stands are take away food ... but this is so so different ... you dine in ... but you do not dine in one restaurant all the time.

“It’s like poker, you bet too high, you either win big or become flat broke (Vertical relationship) On the other hand, if you bet low; or fairly moderate, you won’t loose that much but if you do win (definition needed), that’s your “kick” which is sadly; momentarily. (Horizontal relationship)”
If winning = marriage then you will lose. If winning = commitment then you will suffer. If winning = anything but being happy now and who the hell cares about tomorrow then you will win and a momentarily high is your aim after all.

“Don't you think that one day, horizontal relationships, would ever make you feel lonely deep inside, even with the presence of the 4 guys?”
On the contrary; loneliness comes from being with people you do not care about or from people who do not care about you. In vertical relationships, you can be the loneliest person ever because your partner has no interest in you, or in what you do. In horizontal relations (please read the rules again) you are with people you DO like. Loneliness happens when you are empty from the inside ... and you are empty from the inside when you do not relate to your partner/s. In this relationship ... I like them all and there are touch points with each one.

Could we apply that for getting married to four?
No. This is a dating model not a marriage or family model.

“This is the pattern of relations everyone have after we break up specially after long termed relations; we feel a bit unsecured … u call it horizontal and i call it dilemma :)”
Nop the Dilemma is whether you can handle and fully understand horizontal relationships or not.

Can we turn a horizontal relation into an exclusive one by time?
“Be exclusive” is a voice of someone who cannot compete on the market, hence wants a guarantee ... it is way way gratifying to find a person who wants to be with you and only you out of love not out of a deal.

Are horizontal relationships a form of cheating?
Cheating is about being dishonest and lying. In this scenario the two are ruled out. We just give one another enough space to be.

Men will not welcome a girl in horizontal relations
False! If a man is confident enough he will not mind competition ... I do not mind competition ... I know who I am and I know what I have to offer ... funny enough the men who used to be so laid back taking my presence for granted are now working their asses off to get a bigger part of me! Love has to be earned ... I am waiting

The fool puts his eggs in more than one basket; the wise puts them in one basket and guards them well.
False: Protecting the basket is so consuming and you might end up putting in so much effort protecting worthless eggs ... leave it to natural selection … nature will expire rotten eggs and will nourish and protect good ones.

Will that make you loose/immoral?
No you are very structured, very honest, very moral, and very devoted - to yourself

What happens if I get attached?
Attachment is not part of that deal.What if all your partners ask you for a date in the same time, how will you handle that situation?They would never ask me for a date on the same day ... but let's assume that this day is Valentine's Day ... I will just consult my selfish self and decide who will have the pleasure of my company.

“When you talk about jealousy, and the person becoming more competitive in a so-called "positive" way, you are degrading yourself, and your partners. People will compete - only until they close a sale. If they compete again tomorrow, then that is to close a new sale. If a man or woman has a relation in which they do that type of competition - then they will only invest as much as they need to buy (or sell) today's share of pleasure.”

Those are the words of a person who hates competition and wants Egypt Air to be the national carrier forever regardless of the quality of the service or its competitiveness in the market. There is no such thing as closing a deal nowadays … the new trend is CRM (Customer Relationship Management) and that means you continue to serve and please your current customer because the cost of a new customer is 6 times higher than the cost of retaining an existing customer.

“Relationships - whether you call it horizontal or vertical - are about the other person being there for you - especially, when you have nothing to offer. That's what friendship is - the simplest form of a one-to-one not-otherwise-related relationship. You don’t pay the price for some good company unless you are desperate.”

Desperate is putting up with some silly good-for-nothing person in your life just because you think this is a steady relationship.

“You can think of these men as friends with benefits, but that's as good as it can get. Otherwise, when he picks up the bill for dinner - then that's how much money he invested in return for your company today. Tomorrow is a new sale.”

These words are so far from the truth. Read above the difference between this relationship and horizontal relations. For more insight on: who picks up the check, read my “I am half a woman” article.

"U might not be hurt half as bad as u would otherwise but can u feel half as good?"

It feels better .... remember the rules... you have to really like your partners ... otherwise you will be miserable ... and their presence will make you lonelier than ever.

"Can u stop urself from the inevitable game of favs? finding urself attracted just a tad bit more to someone?"

I do not know how other people function but I do not have a problem favoring one partner over the others ... it is not about them .. it is about me.

"Does that make u feel wholesome or just as u describe it a fragment of what HIS perfect woman should be?"

Believe it or not I am fine with that .. I am not perfect .. I cannot be molded ... I hate pressure.

"it is the ideal antidote for taking someone for granted ... you snooze .. you loose ... You know, you'd make a great sales manager - keep your staff on their tip-toes. Meet your targets, or help yourself to the door! - It works, but you have to pitch in some security to get a loyal employee who won't ditch you at the first next-best offer. As for a relation - there is a level of trust, security, etc. that you have to reach in order to call it a "relation".

Once again we are back to security. People who seek security, stability, stagnation, and a signed contract are not fit for horizontal relations.

If you have a car that you value, you don't dump it when it snoozes - but when a match-stick snoozes, you trash it. How valuable are you to your partners? And how valuable are your partners to you?

Your value is directly proportional to what you bring to the life of your partner; it could be great conversation, fun outings, warmth, no pressure, or anything that you have to offer other than the chains of commitment. The value of the partner is directly proportional to what the partner brings into your life.

Why put all your eggs in one basket!

Many a time have I written about relationships; our feminine mazes that confuse men and the masculine traps that capture our hearts. This is still by far the most difficult article I have ever written. I am about to advocate something that I have never believed in. Actually, I am on the verge of stabbing a deeply rooted belief in our multi-layered culture. The same girl that, given a chance, would have poisoned every man or woman who accepted getting into an open relationship - that very same girl - is about to cross out monogamous relationships and validate having multiple partners. To save face, I will refer to monogamy as “vertical relationships”, and “horizontal relationships” are to be synonymous with polygamy - I am still having psychological barriers with the word!

Let me start by defining the two terms. Vertical relationships mean that you are in a relationship with one person whom you get to know, understand, appreciate, and love by time. This is a type of relationships that involves a lot of trust, dependability, possessiveness, and depth. If you are in a vertical relationship, you invest deeply and seriously in the relationship and in the partner - you put all your eggs in one basket, so to speak. If that basket falls, your losses are countless. “Your eggs” in horizontal relationships are randomly distributed in several baskets; you do not place all your bets on one horse and your investments are diversified to secure you from bankruptcy. Horizontal relationships are neither fake nor superficial; they are just not deep enough to cause serious damage should someone try to pull your tooth out.

Like my multiple careers, I began juggling multiple partners. I have always complained of the scarcity of good men, yet I found myself attracted to four men at the same time. They have nothing in common but me. I have grown to like them as individuals and to appreciate what each one brings into my life. The intensity that used to ruin my previous vertical relationships is now working in favor of my horizontal relationships. To the four, I am never too available, too focused, too critical, or too demanding simply because what one man lacks the other fulfills and I feel loved and cared for all the time. Moreover, when one man slouches, instead of reprimanding him, as I used to, I would just give more room for the other three to fill in the void that was left behind – and there is room for more.

But before you go ahead and embark on one of those awesome horizontal relationships, you need to know the pros, the cons, and the rules. I have spent enough time analyzing my new experience and I will gladly share with you my findings. Uphill, you will never need to depend on the presence or absence of one person in your life. You will never feel lonely, bored, hurt, insulted, or cheated, and you will never have to spend another weekend alone. You will always have a date, and worst case scenario, you will always have an email, a text message, or a phone call to put a smile on your face. You will never look like a famished Somali kid in front of an open buffet. Basically, you will be happy! Downhill, if you are not the organized type, you will suffer stress, overlapping schedules, exhaustion, and the wear and tear of your mind trying to cope with the constant change. If you are the melancholic type, you will long for the intimacy the builds up in vertical relationships. If you are the committed type, this will not work for you!

But if you want this to work, you must abide by the rules. Honesty is the first and foremost of all the rules; never lie about, or hide from, the fact that you are having multiple partners. Do as you would be done by – you are still an ethical person who does not step allover people in the name of horizontal relationships. Do not promise exclusivity when that is not the case. The second rule is an extension of the first rule; do not claim to enjoy horizontal relationships hoping to entrap a vertical partner. This strategy is doomed to backfire.

The backbone of this type of relationships is to truly, genuinely, and sincerely like your partners – all of them. This is not as easy as it sounds. Most of the time, people who are used to vertical relationships would like one partner and line up the others to fill in his shoes in case of absence or misconduct. This strategy is fatal; being with people you do not like, or with people you like half heartedly, will push you back forcibly into the arms of the one partner you like – and we all know how being clingy is inversely proportionate with being loved. Horizontal relationships are a great illustration of how the sum of the parts could be bigger than the whole; each one of your partners alone would make a wrong partner, but together their weaknesses seem to vanish with the sense of perfection they bring into your life.

I have always pleaded for equality, and it is only fair to remind you that you are free to come and go as you please and so are your partners. Every now and then you will feel a tingling sense of jealousy towards one of your partners but it is never as suffocating or as painful as the jealousy you feel towards your sole partner in vertical relationships. Were there a “flirting nerve” in our body, then this is the type of jealousy that triggers it. Horizontal relationships are, so far, liberating, fulfilling, pleasant, and they add a different flavor to each day. I broke the curse …. My men never lasted more than a month … my four men made it past the first month and some of them made it to two months … I am still experimenting with horizontal relationships and, as always, should I hit a brick wall, I will come back and spill my guts out ... until then … I will fly high.

I am half a woman!

Between the excitement of a new job and the weight of its big responsibilities, I found the time to meet up with my friend D one evening right after work. We were both run down but we were longing for the tête a tête girly chat. I seated myself in front of her, laid my exhausted body on the chair, and ordered all the comfort food on the menu. From the work round-up to the social gossip, we jumped from one topic to the other laughing and giggling like school girls at a slumber party. We suddenly stopped talking when the couple on the adjacent table received their check. The girl looked from the check to the ceiling and seemed to trace an invisible fly. Her partner looked at the check, hesitantly put his hand in his pocket, took two or three 10 pound bills, put them on the tray, and then pushed the tray – with the check – towards the girl with a cough – and probably a kick in her leg. The girl let go of her imaginary friend, looked at the check, curled her lower lip, threw a few more bills on the tray, and stood up. There was no eye-contact between them as she took her purse and sped up towards the door – the guy was two steps behind. D and I looked at one another and laughed.

“Do you think they will last?” I asked her innocently.
“He is half a man.” D replied with a solemn face.
“He did not do anything wrong” I said, “Sharing the bill is perfectly normal. They
both seem young and most probably he could not afford it.”

D totally disagreed with me; she told me that she would never respect a man who would let her pick up the check, or half of the check. D believed that if a man were to take a girl out on a date, or an outing, he has to be a man about it; “It is an honor for him to have the pleasure of her company and a real man would never let a girl pay a penny – especially if they were more than casual friends.” I was not sure what to think … I never gave that particular issue any thought. I have always felt obliged to reach out to my purse, even if the man said he would pay. Now that I am thinking about it, I tend to believe that somewhere deep down, I feel that if I did not share, I have somehow betrayed myself as though I am allowing him to buy part of me, not my dinner or lunch. D’s perspective runs deeper than that.

“A man should be responsible and a responsible man takes total and utter care of the needs of his woman.”
I interrupted D asking “Do those needs include her clothes, makeup, accessories, and other luxuries?”
“Yes of course!” D corrected me. “Let’s assume that I am married to a man, and we decided to travel, do you think I will pay for my ticket, accommodation, and food?”
I had no reply – I really never thought about it.
“If I want to throw a party for our family or friends, do you expect me to share?”
Again, I had a blank face.
“Do you think I should pay the electricity bill if he pays for the other utilities?”
“I guess it is normal” I finally replied “you do work after all.” I thought I had an argument until I heard her reply.
“I work for my own reasons, be it self actualization or entertainment, and no decent man will accept to take any of my money.”
I thought of my mom, and said “but it is your house and you are sharing.”
“Sharing? This is not fair! I am sharing his responsibilities but is he sharing mine?”
“In what sense?” I was not sure I was getting her point.
“A man should bring the money, put food on the table, pay the bills, and give me my pocket money. A woman, on the other hand, should make sure the money is well spent, the food on the table is cooked, the house is clean, the kids are brought up well, and the man is comfortable and taken care of. By sharing my salary, I am taking part of his load off his shoulders. Will he share my load too, or will he still expect to be served and obeyed?”
She saw my perplexed face and continued saying “most men nowadays want the woman to share his burdens along with her initial responsibility. If this was a company, and they were equal shareholders, using my logic, his share would be 25%. Now why would I want a man who is in this lifetime partnership with 25%? Why would I want to be with half a man?”
I resorted to the stuttering economy and the expensive cost of living saying “very few men now can take full care of the financial responsibilities. You might never get married D.”
“Let’s assume once again that I did not meet my Mr. Real Man, and let’s assume that I grew to like one of the current “half men”, then his shares in this partnership do not grant him neither a superior word nor an upper hand. It is only fair and natural that if he is half a man, he deserves half a woman.”
I had one last question for D “If you were to get married to a “real man” as per your classification, would you fully give in to his wishes and commands?”
“Give me examples” D exclaimed.
“If he does not want you to go out, or if he does not like an outfit, a friend, or anything you want to do, will you do as he says?” I seemed to gasp for air just thinking of the possibility of a man holding my reign.
“Yes … I will … He earned it and I owe it to him.” D concluded.

Ok then, I am half a woman … I want to have a higher vote … I do not want to owe this kind of obedience to a man … and please … please do not start the religion argument with me!

The Color of Resentment

I resent him now just as much as I loved him then. I hate that feeling. It is bothering me. He is bothering me. It makes me feel weak, bitter, needy, and sick. I decided to let it out once and for all. I am looking now at his picture and I am forcing all the memories that I have blocked to come out; our first meeting and how I was so turned off by his lack of determination and laid back attitude; our first phone call and how his voice annoyed me; our first outing and why I had no interest in his lame conversation and anecdotes; our first week and how I spared no effort to push him away. My first angry email and how hurt I was. Our first breakup and how I missed him. It is all flowing back into my head now.

I got used to the voice that once annoyed me. I longed for the words that never interested me. I needed his presence in my life regardless of the definition. I settled for friendship and had to listen to his previous escapades, current flings, and future plans with someone who will never be me. Occasionally, I would compile the strength to walk away only to relapse into him again like an incurable addiction to a fatal drug. I tired all the tricks in the book; pros and cons lists, motivational post-its on my mirror, feminist articles, survival songs, chocolates, and other partners. Nothing worked. He knew that he was graciously stepping on my ego. He knew I was insulted and in love. He enjoyed looking at the new addition to his collection of broken-hearted women. In his condescending patronizing tone, he refused to validate my feelings, and withheld from apologizing.

One day, he was telling me – his friend – about his new amour when all of a sudden my green-eyed monster rose from the ashes and breathed fire in his face. His words literally and physically hurt me. Listening to him talk about the new kid on the block gave me the feeling of hundreds of little bees stinging my shoulder. We hung up that day and never spoke again. I put him, my feelings for him, and all my memories with him in a big box and threw it down the gutters of my deep psyche. That was almost a year ago and I never missed him once since then. I got off the ground, shook the dust off my clothes, straightened my hair, wiped my face, and walked away.

If I were to choose a color for that feeling – the feeling of resentment – I would opt for silver. Silver is the color of bullets, knives, swords, scalpels, and all cutting tools. It is the color of chains, cuffs, shackles, and all restraining equipment. It is the mirror that only reflects your words and actions; it shows you nothing but yourself, your anger, and your resentment. It is the glamorous version of the dull grey. It is a color that smells and tastes like rust, and feels and looks like dust. Like a relationship that went belly up, silver has neither a soul nor a core; it is just the mummification of what was once alive. Sparkling ashes are still ashes and gun powder is what is left after a gun shot.

Silver is not a solid color; it is a metal. Metals are cold, sharp and they expand under heat and tend to shrink in the cold. Like my resentment of him, he is made of silver. He himself is a cutting edge that wounds women who come his way. I am not the only one; they all have been on his rollercoaster. The ride starts with a lot of anticipation, eagerness, and excitement, and then once it reaches the point where the girl develops any sort of attachment to him, the relationship goes downhill. It deteriorates slowly, painfully, and heavily. He backs off and she plays hide and seek with herself; she hides from the resentment and seeks inner peace. She either becomes a face from the past or a trophy among many others. He is a collector.

Seeing his picture or hearing his name evokes the unresolved anger and animosity that I have been harboring against him. Last week his name came up in a casual conversation and I felt the bitter silver-ish taste in my mouth. I was silently fuming as I remembered my bruised ego. I sat there gritting my teeth and trying to smile when I really wanted to scream and yell at whoever dared mention his name in my presence. I tried hard to name 10 good things about him and I only thought of one. I tried to push him back into the black box but he was out and the silver ashes were suffocating me; my eyes hurt, my nose itched, and my skin was irritated as I struggled for a breeze. I decided to spit the silver ball out of my system. Passively waiting and wishing that time will wash away the silver residue was not working. This is why I ran to my laptop and decided to write one last time about him. I will no longer push my resentment down; I will let it surface and will capture its metallic essence in a tight mesh and throw it away.

I am cured and healed, but what about you my friend? I know he broke your heart. I know you have had a bumpy ride. I know it hurts. I know you want him. I know you hate him. I know how sad you are now. I know his games. I know your pain. I know you are alone. I know that being with him made you feel lonely. I know he is not there. I know he was never there. I know he will never be there. Do not make my mistake. Do not waste your energy on a lifeless person. Do not build your dreams on someone who will not make them come true. Do not look back at someone who does not want to walk forward. Do not let the silver color blind your golden heart. Do not give him another chance to waste. Do not settle for a place in his trophies closet. I am older and I am asking you not to worry … the see is full of fish … bigger better fish.

What Color is your Collar?

When did I become so class conscious? How did I grow into that obnoxious girl that categorizes people based on where they live, what they wear, and how they talk? Their dialects, education, and possessions determine their location on my social stratification model. I am not materialistic by any means – I just believe that social class reflects on a person’s general disposition in life; occupation, education, qualifications, income, grooming, manners, cultural refinement, taboos, and language and diction. I fully realize that over the years, I have evolved from a common middle class girl into a distinguished lower upper class lady.

In 1949 William Lloyd Warner set an early example of a stratum class model; Upper-upper class is what we call “old money” and those are people who have been born into and raised with wealth. Lower-upper class is equivalent to “new money”, and those are people who, like me, have become rich within their own lifetimes and due to their own work. The upper-middle class is, like my family, professionals with a college education. But other members of my family belong to the lower-middle class, who are low paid white collars, but not manual laborers. Today, I believe it is only fair to mingle with or marry from my current social class.

Ok … let me start from the start. It hit me for the first time when I met Lisa in her office back in June 2001. She was leaving Egypt and I was her successor. I still remember how my eyes wandered around and literally fell in love with everything Lisa had in her office; the glass bowl and gold fish, the scented candles, the tall vase and bamboo shoots, the lace curtains, the Christmas cards on the shelves, the pink and orange pens on her desk, and his picture - a picture of a dark Egyptian man on Lisa’s desk.

“Ismail, my husband.” Lisa said and I did not know what to say. He obviously looked like an impoverished under-educated working-class Egyptian. As though Lisa could read my mind, she openly admitted that he was poor, that his English was even poorer, and that his family was among the poorest, and that she knew that I would never consider talking to him, let alone getting married to him. I was shocked and perplexed. I struggled for the right words and nothing came out.

Later on that day, Lisa told me that her mother thought she was out of her mind when she decided to get married to Ismail - a black Arab waiter who could not speak English. But she had never met a man who made her feel so special and so precious. She did not need him to talk to her in English, when everything she needed to know was written in his eyes. I told her that they were different – socially and culturally different. She replied with confidence that we were all different and that if I was looking for a man who is a clone of me, then I would look for an eternity – in vain.

I told her that she was smart, pretty, successful, well educated, well traveled, and well positioned in her career. She could have had any man she wanted. Lisa’s smile grew wider as she told me that she did get the man that she wanted. She told me that people from the same country might share the same cultural outlines but when looking deeper one would find various sub-cultures, norms, values, and beliefs. Lisa told me that she loved his family; they had a small house, yet they insisted that she spent a few days with them. They had little food, yet they shared it with her. They did not speak her language, yet they made her feel welcomed and important with what went beyond words.

“Girls in this part of the world measure men on the scales of wealth, education, and social status. Those scales are often deceiving. They only permit you to look at the outside of a person and deny you any access to his real potential; you see his house not his heart, his car not his mind, his language not his words. The Egyptian society is like a foster home for the seven deadly sins including greed, gluttony, lust, and sloth. Why do you insist on turning human beings into dogs who have to wear collars and labels to identify them? A white collar for well educated executives and professionals, a blue collar for workers and laborers, a pink collar for female jobs like nurses, nannies, and secretaries, and a golden collar for those who dropped out of school and college to pursue a vocational career.” Lisa’s words still resonate in my head and I still have no answer.

Failure to Launch

I was watching Matthew McConaughey’s and Sarah Jessica Parker’s romantic comedy Failure to Launch, and I was highly entertained by the idea of working as an “interventionist”. I would kill to get that job! Come on … look at it my way … it will get me to date regularly and …. I will get paid for it. The plot was built around Tripp, a 35 year old dude, whose parents were trying to get him to move out of the house. He had a nice job and a passion for sailing. His mother still made his bed, vacuumed his room, picked up his dirty clothes and left his clean laundry for him. She also made him pancakes, eggs, and bacon for breakfast. Sounds familiar?

At first I did not get the point of the movie – so what?! A single adult living with his parents – there is no law against that! Then I realized that in real life, with a subconscious twist, I selectively date men who live on their own. I also noticed that my resentment for guys who still lived with their parents erupts in sarcastic comments, sudden mood swings, unjustified aggression, or implicit punishment sentences. Deep down I would automatically consider him as less mature, less responsible, less reliable, and less worthy when compared to me. In that sense, I would be more experienced and more exposed than he ever was. I know this sounds awfully judgmental but this is how I weigh it.

It took a lot of strength and courage for a single girl like me to move out at the age of 28. Society, family, friends, men, and people who did not even know me frowned upon my decision. In the eyes of some, I was an outcast, for others I was insane, and for the majority I was a question mark. Five years later people still cannot understand my quest for independence and my need for growing into a whole person instead of becoming another female invalid who needs to lean on male crutches. I admit that leaving the nest has its pros and cons; the best thing about it is a sense of pride that only achievers can relate to. The worst thing about it is an utter lack of freedom. Yes! No freedom … responsibilities and bills govern almost every decision I take.

“To leave the nest, some men just need a little push” but what kind of push are we talking about when it comes to our men? How can we push a man away from his mommy’s arms? How can we plant any seeds of responsibility in the soul of men who are so spoilt beyond reconciliation? Unlike parents here, in the movie, the parents were upset that their baby would not leave the nest; they felt that they did something wrong in the way they brought him up because he failed to claim his independence. They hired Paula to motivate their son to move out. Her strategy was basically to meet him by coincidence, get him to ask her out, involve him in a trauma, meet his friends and get their approval of her, delay sex, have him teach her something, and finally launch him. She believed that men still living at home lacked self-esteem so she would establish a relationship with the man, build his confidence up and then move him out of his parents' house.

Let’s assume that I got Paula’s job. Let’s assume that I am on a mission to throw men off the terrace – set them free in my sick metaphorical way – and that I will follow Paula’s plan for launching a man. I would expect the following scenario: We meet by coincidence, he plays Mr. So-Big-So-Hard-To-Get, then after several maneuvers from his side and some well-aimed blows from my side, he finally gets attached. I declare that our relationship will not progress until I know that he is an independent person who can survive on his own. Like other guys who are trapped in the comfort zone of their parent’s house, he throws one excuse after the other at me and I brilliantly fail at my mission.

Excuses? Yes! Plenty! “My parents are too old. I have to take care of them and their needs. They will be heartbroken.” Or “when I got married” or “people do not respect men who live alone, they automatically think that this man is a womanizer.” Some are more honest and they just say that they are comfortable and well taken care of. Some say that the only thing they would miss about living on their own would be the ability to come and go as they pleased, and with whom ever they pleased. One guy told me honestly that he could not afford it.

On the other hand, parents panic when their grown up little boy asks for his right to blossom into manhood. Somehow they interpret it as treason and ingratitude. They feel that they raised up an ungrateful little monster who walked away on their old age. Of course I will not start a girls-living-alone movement here; I am still fighting the battles of self-esteem with my fellow women. But men, our men, our macho men, our male prima donnas – why are they seeking refuge in the sheltered nest of mother goose? In nurturing societies like ours, independence is translated into aloofness and people living on their own are automatically categorized as trouble makers. Good boys and good girls never leave the nest unless they are dead, married, or forced to work abroad. Failure to launch … this is the one failure that families celebrate rather than lament!

When the Apple is Ripe it will Fall

“I met someone” she said in a voice that lacked the buzz of a new relationship.
“But?” I asked knowing that there had to be a “but”.
“He is eight years younger!”

I understand why a woman my age, or older, could be attracted to someone who is younger, or much younger; yet, I failed to grasp the logic – if such a word exists – behind young men who willingly consensually freely choose to dive into a relationship with someone who is ten years older than he is. By a relationship I do not mean an affair, I am referring to a full fledged relationship that incorporates all the rules of Victorian courtship – the wining and dining, the meet my friends and meet your friends, the call me and call you, and the love you and miss you routines.

Almost 33, I am secretly growing more insecure in the presence of younger girls, but obviously I have competitive advantages that I am not aware of. I am no exception to this new perplexing rule; A, N, M, and H are four of my friends whose ages range from 37 to 47, and they are attracting guys who are at best 8 years younger. My last four attempts at dating were with guys whose ages ranged from 23 to 28. My Facebook account is bombarded with friend requests from a breed that is a decade younger than I am. My blog is piling up comments from angry bloggers who recently developed facial hair. Something is wrong!! How do we, older women, attract them - younger guys?

I am bad at guessing! I had to ask them! I needed to hack their little green brains and find out the answer. My classroom – there is no better place to start. Instead of a pop quiz in marketing, I handed them a piece of paper with one question and I gave them an hour to give me the answer that has been confusing the heck out of me. The question was: If you had a choice, would you rather date someone your age or, would you date me, or someone else, knowing that there is more or less ten years of difference in age? Why yes? Why no? The look on their faces was priceless! The silence that filled the room was louder than anything they would have said. They were looking at me for clarification and I gave them none. I told them that the clock was ticking and that I was serious.

In an hour the answer sheets were on my desk and I impatiently began checking their responses. There were some flattering comments about my eyes and smile and there were some semi-insulting comments about my temper and insanity. As I went deeper into their explanation my eyes grew wider in shock as I found out the major points of differentiation that make those guys favor ripe apples – as one student put it down. A combined list would say that we are more mature, independent, experienced, understanding, and appreciative of the little things young girls take of granted. We have careers and are busy with important and meaningful stuff. We are good listeners and we give good advice. The list goes on to highlight our graces; secure, intellectual, connected, and confident.

One student said that we do not ask silly questions and we do not get upset over stupid things like “Do you love me? Do I look good? Why didn’t you call? Where were you? Who’s that girl? Or I have a curfew, I cannot be seen with you, and let’s cruise.” Some guys said that being with an older woman will make younger women interested; “if I were to date you, young girls will be jealous and they will want to know what is so special about me that would make an icon like you go out with me. – I must be really mature and experienced to satisfy you.” Another student was very honest when he said “you will pick up the check all the time; this is the price you will pay for going out with a hot dude like myself – I mean you know I am young and I cannot afford your outings.” Several opinions shed light on expectations; “girls my age want to get married – not to me in particular, they just want to get married. You will not rush me into meeting your family and will not bother me with questions about the future. Older women are down to earth and they just want to live the moment.”

On the more aggressive side, a guy replied saying that “I like to think of it as a charitable act of goodwill. If being around someone who is going downhill would make her feel better, then so be it. I also enjoy how her younger female friends look at me. Some of them even flirt.” Another guy said that “behind their confident experienced façade, older women need to be held and touched. They need a sharp pencil – if you know what I mean (wink).” Outside the classroom, a blogger told me, face to face, that older women are just a phase “I am learning and gaining experience so I will be ready for a girl my age. Being with her makes me feel so grown up but there will be a time when I go back in the time machine to my real age. It is never serious. There is an implicit deal between me and my girlfriend, if you want to call her so, that there is no happily ever after end to our relationship.”

I was visiting 37 year old divorced N a few months ago at her place and we were having the usual girl talks until she told me that her boyfriend is coming. I wanted to leave but she insisted that I met him. I asked her what he did for a living and she told me that he was an account executive in an agency. I then asked her how they met and she said that they had met online. I asked her if he was married, she laughed, and told me that he was 28. I knew that she was lonely and that her dating options were next to disgusting, and I could understand her reasons for dating a younger guy but I was super curious about his reasons especially when I saw him. He was well groomed, well spoken, well dressed, and well bred. I was too shy to ask him about his interest in my friend, so I waited till he was gone and I asked her to give me her best guesses for his motives.

She told me that he was fascinated by her day to day stories – the same stories that bored men her age. When it came to his personal or professional life, he found her advice indispensable. Plus of course the fact that she had her own place, lived alone, and was in touch with her feminine side. She told me that she offered him the comfort, space, and freedom that young girls could not provide. N would never ask him any question that started with why, when, who, where, how, what, how long, or how often. She is independent – mentally and emotionally – and with his monthly 3000 Egyptian Pounds, it is not likely that he could be entertaining any ideas of getting married soon. N was very comfortable analyzing his motives and was under no illusion that this could be love or that it could end up with something old, something new, or something borrowed and something blue.

A 28 year old guy was wooing me, and after I declared my age, he said with a huge smile on his face that women are like apples; the older they grow the riper they become. Sarcastic as usual, I said that ripe apples are bruised from the inside and have visible brown patches. I was a bit self conscious when I added that this was a sign that they were approaching their expiry date. My smart cookie said that those brown patches are sweeter, softer, more tender, and much tastier than the rest of the apple. I could not keep up with the witty conversation. I did like the puppy look in his eyes. I was falling, and ironically speaking, I resorted to the Irish proverb that says: When the apple is ripe it will fall!