When reflection is not simply projection

I wore a wig last week - just for the fun of it. I also wore false eyelashes. Nothing intrinsically wrong with that,  but if it got to the stage where I couldn't go out without fluttering large nylon lashes - I would become one of those women that have to get up at 6am to stop the world realising that without props - I am as short lashed as the next woman. You can only keep it up for so long.

So someone wrote a dating profile for me recently. It is something I shall revisit - there is far to much fodder in the process not to. But there were two things that really stood out for me and whilst both were very different - one a description of my traits and the other what kind of man I would need - they are intrinsically linked. Because both relate to the same word - honesty.

It is true, as they stated - that I can be overly analytical. It was a fair summary - to a point. For what I have come to realise, is that I am only overly analytical with people who are not honest about who they are, or what they want. Someone  asked me recently, how I am so good at maintaining great friendships with male friends and yet so poor at choosing the right relationship. As a female with possibly more male friends than female - it was worthy of consideration.

And then the light bulb moment occurred. I have higher standards for friendships. And since I only enter true friendships with people I can trust - I analyse nothing. And it is why such friendships are so precious - total of acceptance of another and total trust.

Relationships are a whole different matter. I have a sorry history of getting close to people that I don't trust. I don't trust them because they are not honest about who they are to themselves, let alone anyone else. And yet it all comes out and for a brief period they feel relief that someone 'gets' them, but since we generally feel more comfortable in our own self fulfilling prophecies - when it all gets a bit too much - I scare them. Furthermore, since I have never really believed their is such a thing as a safe relationship, I have dated in my comfort zone. Unsafe ones.

Which is ironic really, since the ability to have insight into the issues of others is invariably because we recognise something in that behaviour. The men that I know who are petrified of people getting too close, seeing past their outer bravado - they offer little surprise. I only know what makes them tick since I see it in myself. The key difference is that they are so focused on themselves they are incapable of considering others. In observing them, I learn a little more about myself and become a little more understanding of how far I need to push myself out of my own comfort zone. And I will.

So logic would dictate that I would date my male friends, but I will never risk jeopardising such good relationship with the quagmire that is emotion. I feel perfectly comfortable, until they are too nice - and then I start analysing why. One male chum recently left a 'Love you lots' post-it note on my kettle. It made me smile. Briefly - until my mind went into overdrive analysing whether there was an expectation to our friendship. Of course I know there isn't but lets face it - if one thing freaks me out - it is someone who is genuinely affectionate with no agenda. It is outside my comfort zone. Equally - since I now see it as a pre-requisite for new relationship standards, I know that I have to get past that irrational response. And I will.

So I could run from spontaneous shows of affection. I could dismiss friendships where there is too much loving going on and my natural inclination is to do just that. Yet, I also know that running from what is good for us, is a default setting for the emotionally afflicted and it's a pattern I have no wish to repeat.

And so my dating profile claimed I need a confident man. Having initially agreed, a week of pondering has made me realise that I don't need a confident man - I need an honest one. I am not convinced that anyone is entirely confident and a relationship is the one place where we should be able to be honest about our lack of confidence. A good relationship is not about hiding insecurities or indeed, masking them with overly confident baloney that hides our true self. Indeed, those inclined to do so are normally masking such huge insecurity that the only thing they know for sure - is that they never feel good enough.

Honesty, is the ability to communicate the lack of confidence that we all experience from time to time. Surely a great relationship can only be one in which you are truly yourself, one in which the other person accepts you for who you are -  and as much as we all believe that is what we want - many of us are not in a place where we can be honest with our self, let alone anyone else.

We hae all done it. I have been immensely accepting of men - only to realise that they have lied for such a large part of their existence, that the mere whiff of total acceptance from another half sees them scurrying into the hills. Gees, imagine having to be honest about yourself for the rest of your life when the lying has worked so well.

So we date in our comfort zone. We date people that allow us to perpetuate the life long lies we have concocted to protect ourselves from the reality of who we really are - which is vulnerable. We date people that mess with our heads because we have spent so many years needing to outwit a partner, it's the only thing that feels safe. We date people that cannot be trusted because we believe deep down, that no one can be trusted. We date people that make us feel needed because without feeling needed, we feel nothing. We date people that we have to analyse what they do, because deep down we don't believe anyone wants nothing more than just us.

But lies don't work. If they did, most of us wouldn't  end up with relationships which are never really quite enough. More than this, we wouldn't end up in relationships in which we know deep down the red flags were waving but the fear of doing something totally different was greater that accepting the truth.

Imagine a relationship in which what your heart really wanted didn't terrify you, in which you didn't run from things that are good for you, simply because it was outside your comfort zone, outside your personal history. Imagine the freedom of being totally honest about what you really want.

I don't need a confident man.

I need an honest one

The games we play - 'You've been snubbed'

Sometimes one post naturally follows another. Since the last post was all about what a rubbish flirt I am, then it makes sense this one should prove it. And it does.

Whilst I am a rubbish flirt, I am pretty good at banter. Banter with innuendo is my forte but my real strength lies in ambiguity. Pretty handy since a lot of the people who enter my life are equally ambiguous.

Then throw social media into the equation,  alongside the real reason behind modern day inability to communicate effectively -texting, and you have my very own recipe for disaster.

And so begins a texting fest with someone who crossed my path through social
media. It is undoubted that this occurred through my love of posting pictures of my shoes but since I love shoes, it's not unreasonable. With that, followed a fair few months of texting and then we met up. Far cuter than I ever  expected, I was completely flummoxed. When you only know someone through flirtatious texting, it's quite tricky knowing how to handle normal conversation. After all, if you have built a level of communication based only on this, then normal conversation would be as disappointing as discovering the voluptuous woman is merely a silicone fillet girl. So I did what I do best when thrown - I made an arse of myself.

So the story went on. We met a couple of more times but it was both confusing and mystifying. Flirtatious texting and a gentleman in flesh. I shouldn't complain since my idea of sexy, is a man with manners. Equally, I quite like men that you can tell if they find you attractive and this one - gave NOTHING away.

Perplexed as my mind lurched from 'If you just want to be friendly with people, then why flirt in texts?'  to the 'If you are flirting in texts then why are you the absolute opposite on meeting.' It was most unsettling. And he was, so I thought, an apparently genuine man which to me, was pretty out of my comfort zone since a) I rarely meet genuinely nice men and 2) I am never attracted to genuinely nice men and always place them firmly into my chums pocket. A totally new experience to meet a man who came across as genuine that I not only liked, but actually fancied. Now that is what you call progress.

Except that I couldn't work out what it was he wanted. So I took advice from an ex man in life, who put his head in  hands in despair at my inability to interpret. He was equally despairing of my own ambiguity and forced my hand in doing something that I find immensely difficult, which is to let my guard down.

So I sent a text that simply said I had been thinking of him. Now anyone who knows me will stand testimate that I can be very honest with those I care about, but those that I am unsure of will be subjected to a barge of smart arse answers and aserbic wit. What they won't get is honesty. So steeled by a vodka, the support of ex man in life's wisdom - I sent a text that simply stated the truth, that I had been thinking of him. And as I sat there squirming, I thought 'Really, how bad can this be, months of texting, three meet ups, cute face, nice thighs......

Response back. 'You need to get out more'

Snubbed. Big time

I am NEVER being honest again

The art of not flirting

I am a rubbish flirt, which is odd since I am naturally flirtatious. Actually, no one specifically said that I was a rubbish flirt but the enquiry as to why I feel so unable to be flirtatious when out - was a polite way of telling me that I am in fact, rubbish at it.

If we were in the 18th century then I am sure that my flirtation skills may have caused public outrage but in 2012, it seems that my expertise is woefully inadequate.

I am a bit shell shocked by the revelation that I am so rubbish and frankly, more than a little grateful. After the most entertaining night out in town, one in which every man I came across was carted and I appeared to be the only person in Bath that was actually sober - it became more than apparent that flirting is no longer a subtle art, but a blatant precursor to sex.

In fact, it seems that every interaction between male and female is simply about sex. Flirting has become no more than a superfast highway to the inevitable, one in which you decide if you like someone after you have slept with them and not before.

Now I get a fair amount of flack for my old fashioned views and the assumption that this somehow makes me uptight. I love sex, but like the best things in life - I think it is better when valued. Think fast food versus good restaurant: one is readily available, everyone knows where to get it, what to expect and knows they will probably feel a bit unfulfilled afterwards. A great restaurant on the other hand, one you have researched, considered, chosen carefully from - far more likely to be a memorable evening,  to be savoured, to remembered. Sex isn't so different.

And if sex is the main course, then flirting is the appetiser and this is the bit in which I am apparently hopeless. And I admit that I didn't find anything appealing about the mating dance of drunk men and I found it equally sleazy that some carted idiot thinks he's in with a chance by ordering a drink I didn't ask for. The only man that managed to have a vaguely intelligent conversation, plummeted in my opinion when he saw fit to but his arm around me. Frankly, after 20 min's conversation I felt it more than a little forward.

And when you miss sex as much as I do, it's odd that there is not one single cell in my body that hankers after meaningless sex with a man that values me no more than the next girl. It seems that my the reason my flirting skills are more than a little outdated is because flirting is all too often little more than an evening long with some pretty descriptive language.

Is this such a good thing? The more old fashioned approach in which two people play a protracted game that is far sexier, inevitably building intrigue and sexual tension. In old fashioned flirting- your not stating 'I want to have sex' but 'I'd probably like to have sex with you, let's see'  It's not perfect but it is sexy. Old fashioned flirting isn't a promise of sex, it's showing an interest, it's about the potential and the build up of anticipation. A flirty conversation leaves you smiling like a moron and the further down that road it goes, those little flutters of excitement that are simply priceless.

So you dispense with the  intrigue and the build up with a slightly more brutal version of "Your hot, shall we have sex?" Granted, the more blatant contemporary version is less fraught with error and making ones thought process so abundantly clear does leave less margin for misinterpretation.

With my method of flirting there is so much margin for error, and it seems I am simply rubbish. Admittedly, when there is no possibility for further venture I can flirt like a pro. It all goes a little awry when I actually like the person I am flirting with. Then I flirt like the march of a Russian soldier, two steps forward, one back. I flirt a little, a little more - then I panic in fear that my flirting my appear to forward and I may be judged for being, well - too forward.


So I flirt, I retreat, then I complain that the men I flirt with aren't being forthcoming enough. I recently had a conversation with ex- man in my life on my hopeless inadequacies in interpreting flirting. Sometimes, I struggle to tell the difference between someone being friendly or flirty. I think they are flirting, so I flirt back. Then I think they are just being friendly and I have misinterpreted and have made an arse of myself. According to ex-man in life I am in fact a quite unique combination of intimidating and contemporary version of Mother Theresa. It seems that whilst flirting used to be about subtlety, using me as a benchmark results in a fair sum number of mixed messages.

From my recent education into the world of modern flirting, I have nothing to fear since anyone I was flirting with would simply think I am in fact, retarded.

I fear it may be a long time before I ever have sex again

For an indispensible guide to the not so subtle art, click here
The non subtle art of flirting

Complementary technology, my arse

**

In a bid to become more productive, I have been wrestling with an online to-do list. In concept it isn't hard - simply select your tasks, tap them onto your list, achieve your tasks and tick complete.

Nothing is that simple for me. The concept of being organised just doesn't sit naturally. I am so reliant on natural chaos that the thought of being organised scares me. In order to be this super efficient person, I will have to change my mindset completely and in doing so,  lose part of my identity.

Being organised would be as uncomfortable as not caring about shoes. To dispense with superficiality would mean completely re figuring the traits my personality is dependent upon. In the blink of an eye, I would be an efficient beast that looked at people in a stern manner. Of course, this would require looking up since I will have lost 4 inches in height as a result of the comfy footwear.

I struggled with the idea until I asked my colleague whether I had skills that compensated for my utter incompetency with anything requiring mastery of modern concept. Apparently I do, so I went back to sticking post it notes on my computer screen and she returned to rolling her eyes in despair.

By the end of the day I had inputed a couple of tasks, such as 'master rememberthemilk'. I noted that in my personal list was 'read electricity meter' - this had been written 8 months ago, it's still there. The electricity meter has never been read and I just allow them to take money out. In my mind, my denial saves time and thus makes me more productive. I think

Added to the list today - send compliment. A work colleague had received an email offering praising for work delivered that had exceeded expectation. It's no surprise to anyone else since she is so efficient she has potential to be formidable but as she said - receiving a compliment can truly make the difference to ones day.

And she's right. Think back to the times when someone has opened a door for you, picked something up you may have dropped, admired an outfit or praised you for a gesture. A few words acknowledging something about you, no matter how small - can truly brighten a day and raise a smile.

I thought about it and sent her an email.

Dear Veronica,

Nice tits

Kind regards,

Sophie

Now clearly this is not language that you would hear me utter, but the art of writing is to do so in a manner that captures the attention of the reader and makes a lasting impression.  I considered my choice of words to be a winning combination on both counts.

She was grinning for some time, a remarkable result I thought. As  a result of this positive reaction, the task 'send compliment' shall now become a permanent feature of my to-do list. Paying compliment should become a viral task, the whole universe will feel much jollier as a result

On returning home an email alert appeared on my mobile

Great arse

Best wishes,

Veronica

It would appear that you do indeed reap what you sow.

Think productive, you litte Ninja

My blog would seem an odd place to review a book but since this was always about revelations on myself and others - it is an entirely appropriate place. I have an inordinate respect for Graham Allcott. He has an interesting history, keen social entrepreneur and founder of both social and charitable enterprise. I could witter on about his many successes but really, they are  precisely what you would expect from someone who clearly has natural insightful and who happens to have mastered that art of productivity.


Yep, he's done great but the real source of respect comes for Graham Allcott being the mind behind Think Productive - a company that made me cry.


Now it is well documented that those that make me cry, have generally had a deep impact on my life and no matter the pain of the moment, will always afford a positive gain.


I'm pretty certain that there was nothing in the Think Productive manual about making people cry but they didn't flinch. It seems that in order to be productive you have to stop trying so hard to be productive. Self placed expectation was leading to the constant guilt about not achieving enough. It was this that was  making me deeply unproductive. This revelation - apparently obvious to everyone else, was a bolt from the blue to me. So I cried, quite a lot.


So when Graham Allcotts new book 'How to be a productivity Ninja' was released this week, I was quite excited. The world is full of books that tell us how to make our lives easier but most are no more than another quick fix, often requiring us to master some overly complicated system that we don't have time for. Invariable a list of self help productivity manuals will accrue on the bookshelf, simply charting our own sense of failure.


Grahams book is simple. It's not about managing your world, it's about managing yourself. It doesn't teach you to be perfect, it teaches you to accept who you are. It will not teach you to get to the top by adding things to your to do list, it gives you the skills of working out what is important and reducing the chaos.  Most of all, it gets rid of guilt and once you do that, you achieve so much more.


And that's because Graham understands people, projecting a sense of calm insight into every word he writes. When you read this book it makes so much sense that you cannot quite believe it took someone else to tell you. To the rest of us with our scattered paintball approach to organisation, Graham Allcot is like a sniper.


And like all the good things - it all starts within.

 http://www.productivityninja.co.uk/.

Profound my arse

I have just had a deep and meaningful conversation with one of my dearest male friends.

I shared my revelations.

His summary was as follows:

• You are lovely the way you are

• When men flirt with you they are only ever interested in one thing. 

• On the whole, most men are tossers

• You should remain cynical of any man that comes anywhere near you

It would appear that any threat profound thought placed on the shoe collection has been dealt with. 

Being superficial and cynical is apparently a much safer haven.

I give up

Irony, insight and a new perspective

I had a conversation last night that hinged around the fact that I was considered to be insightful. Apparently to the point of Witchdom.

Over the years I have grown used to the fact that the way in which my mind works can and does intimidate people. I have had countless friends tell me I need to stop analysing things and just accept things as they are. Which is advice that comes with a strong thread of irony.

Ironic since with all the love and intention that comes with those nuggets of advice, is perhaps the lack of acceptance for who I am. There is no question that my mind has been the vehicle for deep routed pain. When people hurt me, they can do so to a level that sometimes forces me to question whether others feel the same pain. It’s invariably not with malice, more of a result of not accepting their own issues. The problem with my mind is that I can work out the issues and thus can never hate the person for behaviour that my gut instinct tells me – makes them unhappy. 

So I accept that they are not unkind. Understanding their behaviour affords me no vehicle for anger. As a result, my own process of healing takes considerably longer than would be reasonably expected.

So last night was an evening of yet more irony. I had a conversation with a man who further back in time had messed with both my head and my heart. I learnt a lot from him. Mainly that the issues he had, were ones that were also part of my own personality. I don’t have a fear that a relationship might not work. I have a fear that it might.  My Achilles heel is vulnerability.

A friend advised recently that I need a man that doesn’t put up with my thought process. That advice comes from love, since as a friend - she knows the real me. But she is wrong – what I would need is a man perceptive enough to see through defence mechanisms and strong enough to not be scared of them.

And I scare people, which all comes down to the insightful thing. If you have an issue, I will nail it. I don’t seek to, it’s just the mind I have. I don’t have a problem with people’s issues but if they do, it becomes a problem. There can be nothing harder than trying to pretend you are the toughest person in the world only to have someone raising an eyebrow in your direction. Which I will.

Yet last night was a revelation to me. I have spent many years thinking that my life would be simpler and less painful if I didn’t have a mind that thought things through from every angle, in a split second. It’s not a new issue, I vividly recall feeling deeply lonely as a child - wishing with all my might that my brain would just stop whirring. It never did.

So the real irony is that in seeking to understand others and accepting them with their faults is the one thing about myself that others can often find hard to accept. In this they never really accepted who I am which in turn, means I never have either.

So as I sat last night listening to a man that I have always understood too well for his comfort, talk about my insightfulness in positive terms - was a watershed moment. He spoke of my blog, his view of my insight and my perception of situations with what appeared to be genuine admiration. More importantly, it was a brief moment without guard and without suspicion. And for a brief moment I saw that in accepting me for who I am, showed a glimmer of the man I know him to be.

Perhaps one day I will meet someone who can accept that I am who I am. The things I have written on this blog may have been raw, they may have been harsh but they all came from my bizarre thought process and they all came from honesty.

Maybe one day I will get past the meaningless flirtations, the challenging banter, to trust that when a man shows an interest – it’s not merely because they may consider me to be attractive. Perhaps when I enter into flirtation and banter it might be that I stop assuming there only to be one goal at the end of it, and it isn’t my mind. Perhaps one day, I will meet a man that doesn’t turn me into their mission because I challenge their pre-conceived ideas of what a woman should be. Perhaps, just perhaps I will get to a place where I can trust someone makes the effort because they see the real me, not the one I offer.

So to the man that fucked with my head, I thank you for offering me a moment where being me felt valued. To offer a view that was unsought, unexpected and with no cost attached. It was a long road and I am glad that what I always saw is who you are. I wish you nothing but happiness.

As for me, I may at some point – consider dropping the sparring gloves.

But it will take an insightful man.

I may have to think about all of this.