Say my name, say my name.

How did our mothers always know when something was wrong? How did they always know what to do when that cute boy we had been crushing on for a solid year had broken our hearts? This knack of knowing extends beyond being a mother, the female posses an instinct unlike that of the male (sorry guys)– ‘the gut feeling’ some would call it, others prefer to describe it as somewhat of a radar, but mostly the phenomena is known as a woman’s intuition. 

Where am I going with this huge epiphany of women having the ability to detect an off beam? Unfortunately or fortunately this isn’t a ‘let’s cut the story short’ type entry, so in saying that I must draw upon a good friends experience. This said friend called me in tears one night, sobbing uncontrollably, with what i believe was Bridgett Jones Diary playing in the background – the guy she had been seeing for three months (granted it wasn’t a lifetime but she had finally connected with someone in what seemed like forever, I can vouch for that) had just pulled the whole ‘I think it’s better we don’t see each other anymore, I’ve been seeing this other girl, and well, she is better, you loose!’ well to be honest he probably didn’t use those exact words, but I’m just recounting the story as it was told to me. 

Despite all the hyperboles which come with the story – the main point is he was indeed seeing another girl, they had passed the awkward ‘are we dating?’ hump and had started doing the whole dinner at mine, dinner at yours thing– in other words couple territory had been entered.Here comes my major point (and I do have one), with a woman’s overpowering ability to know that something is not right, with our besty, our work colleague, our siblings, our parents, our pet canary even our basilico plant for god’s sake! HOW does the almighty radar miss the fact that something is not right, something is QUITE wrong with the guy we are slowly but surely falling for?*

Sure at times the guy ends up being the worlds most sought after con artist, in which case we will excuse the fact that the gut feeling didn’t realise he was two timing you ( however all the costume changes and wigs he owned could have been a trigger for alarm bells) , but seriously why does this intuition all of a sudden take a vacation when it comes to matters of the heart – and most specifically men?


If some of the brightest, most successful women I know can’t manage to dodge this bullet, are we just destined to have Pam Anderson Tommy Leesque relationships until our dying day? I mean i’m in no way calling shenanigans on our beloved instinct, I believe a women just KNOWS ( but turns a blind eye) when something's happening, in fact Destiny’s Child wrote a chart record hit about it, when they sang, “you actin' kinda shady Ain't callin me baby better say my name” 
So here is the moment I call out to all those womanly instincts, which have served us so well up until now. So when that stabbing pain in your gut (consult your health care practitioner if pain persists) kicks in, make sure you don’t get caught up in the game and take off your rose-tinted glasses. Confront the instinct because chances are if you don’t you may (in fact you most definitely will) end up with a tub of ice cream, re-runs of sex and the city and endless amounts of used Kleenex at your pity party.

* disclaimer – I have been part of this terrible trap of not listening to that instinct let's just give it the respect it deserves.


- Agatha 

Distance makes the heart grow fonder?

Moving over to the other side of the world has made me think about the age old saying “distance makes the heart grow fonder”, but how much distance and time does the heart need until it feels the reverse effect of fondness? In fact dread, burdening and hostility becomes you.

How much distance is there required for the heart to pine? And at what point does the distance become a hindrance? In my experience a 3 week “I’m exploring the world” vacation away from your one and only, makes for peaks of passion, but when we are talking about LDR’s that is long distance relationships, how long is too long?

I started to enquire within and it seems that most if not all people I have spoken to which are trying to ‘make it work’ across the borders find many a fault to the relationship alla distancia.

The obvious lack of physical contact is not the only barrier that need be broken, time differences, season changes (and the advent of skimpier clothes for some), the jealousy and trust issues emerge, and most importantly, as much as you are part of their world, you are not. It seems that all these things cause for relationships to strain and paranoia to kick in. How do you battle through it? How do you make it feel relatively spontaneous, when skype dates are scheduled, plane tickets are bought months in advanced and holidays are planned like that of a surgical procedure. How does distance make the heart grow fonder?

I draw on my own experience here, having had the option between entering an LDR or calling it quits and salvaging the friendship, the logical solution to me instead of ‘seeing how it goes’ was the somewhat difficult yet most sensible solution of ending the relationship. Good memories remain, respect for the person is held and you value what you had together, as opposed to growing into a loathing Oceania schedule when you are clearly living in Europe. Of course circumstance always plays a part in decisions and in this case certain circumstances made it logical to avoid the LDR at all costs.

In my opinion distance can make the heart grow fonder to a certain extent, when you know that there is an end in sight, when there is a reunion somewhat around the corner and when you trust that a 3 week vacation isn’t code for ‘I am now single and will be incommunicado for the next few weeks.’

For me the dodging of an LDR and what I believe would have ended up in the reverse of fondness has been a blessing, the opportunities to connect with other people and avoid all the jealousy games and 21 questions of Who? What? Where? Why? And When? Has lead to peace of mind, an ex who I don’t loathe and a genuine experience in the here and now.

- Agi

The Toxic Man, an Exposé

Toxic men. Sigh. I have 7 words for you- Been there, done that, stole his T-shirt!

When you find yourself ensconced in the dating game, you’re bound to come across one or more of these toxic bachelors. Sadly, for me, it has been the case of ‘more’.

I’ve wasted many-a-Friday night dressed and eagerly waiting by the phone for his promised call & subsequent date. But he doesn’t call. He doesn’t even text. Where are my roses, WHERE IS MY DATE? And yet we still wait, wait, wait and WAIT for him….

Some might ask why we wait? Why we don’t delete his number, hide his Facebook posts, block his tweets and just be done with the vile creature? Well it’s simple; we are trapped in his charming, sexy web. Yes Ladies, we have fallen victim, to a Toxic man.

You know him all too well. He’s the guy who slips you his number on a post it; the guy who asks you on that coffee date that never ever eventuates, the guy who takes you to bed on the first date, or the worst type of all – the guy who promises you a home cooked meal, but instead serves you a plate of Coles pasta salad.

Don’t be fooled by those sweet nothings he whispers in your ear, because they are just that, NOTHING. These men promise you the world, make you fall in love with them (usually thanks to their fast wit, sexy looks and irresistible charm), and then vanish into thin air before you can say, “but I thought you loved me!”

Sexy looks and irresistible charm aside, why do women fall for the toxic man? Despite his broken promises, cancelled dates, and Coles pasta salad the appeal is obvious; he’s charming and he knows it. He knows all the right moves and exactly what women want to hear. Of course he does, he's dated and sexed half the city.

A toxic man is like a seemingly good investment on the stock market. If he is too good to be true, he often is. Learn to identify one from afar, and try not to get to get burnt, because trust me when I say, they're not easy to get over.

-Rhea

Ma Che Bella

For those of you who may or may not know- I have transported my life to the land of high-fashion and the country where it seems that carbohydrates don’t affect the likes of the locals as much as the ‘straniere’, that is strangers. I am in Milan, and indeed a stranger. So here are my reflections thus far on the likes of the city, the men and well the food.

The men are… how do I say this without puncturing the ego of a whole entire male nation? Well they are arrogant and obnoxious. Just because you have asked me out for café doesn’t mean I have to oblige and smile whilst doing it. Luckily if you have somehow been caught in the whirlwind of a café by one of these Italian types, café means an espresso shot, which means zooming right in and right out without feeling too much of a blow. I won’t get too ahead of myself just yet though, I’m sure there are some good sorts out there walking the winding cobbled streets of Italia.

Also, I know that frequenting a club most commonly is associated with a ‘mingle’, or for others a ‘hunt’ for their next catch. However, the Italian club scene really shines a new light to Usher’s song ‘make love in this club’. “Love” is truly a censoring of what is going down in this club…pun intended.
Let me set the scene here, as I belted out the words to some eurotrash this past Saturday (specifically stereolove) and I sipped on what seemed to be methylated spirits (but was actually a vodka lemon, pronounced le-mone in the hopes of carrying off the Italian English accent and getting the right drink) I realised that the Italiani were smooth talking their way into our dance circle– kissing hands, whispering in ears, blowing kisses, waist grabbing, compliments left right and centre, truly turning on the Italian lover stereotype to an immeasurable level. I took it in my stride; laughed, giggled and flicked the hair but mostly just kept belting out all the euro-trash and danced like nobody was watching (the reality was we had a whole audience with their eyes glued to us).
Sure this happens in Oz, occasionally, but here men are much more open to expressing the want they have for a lady in the moment. Whilst it’s flattering, there is only so many ‘MAAAAAA CHE BELLAAAA’ one girl can hear before thinking they are being sarcastic, or simply wanting to smack them in the back of the head.

What shocked me the most with the clubbing scene in this fashion capital was the women and their attire, fluoro pink and fluoro yellow DO NOT MATCH! And they most definitely should be covering your behind. Women insist on teasing their hair into a beehive higher than that of Amy Winehouses’ and wearing amounts of make-up that rivals icing on a cake. It’s no wonder the men are flocking to the foreign girls dressed in black with a bit of red lippy.
Mostly though, these girls are giving it out as if it was their last night on earth. Sure we have all had our pash & dash, or in one’s most horrendous state, been the girl in the club that gets asked to ‘get a room’. But these ladies appear to be hired dancers (the bad kind) in their barely there dresses, sequined bras and inappropriate use of leopard print. For heaven sake Ladies it’s winter, temperatures are inadequate for this kind of indecent exposure. Please take Miss Franklin’s advice and have some R-E-S-P-E-C-T for yourself!

Ciao - Agatha

Cat & Mouse

A Friend told me the other day that most, if not all, of relationships are built on inequality. This structural flaw is inevitable, Friend claimed, because one half is always more emotionally invested in the romantic partnership. One person is always the cat, and the other the mouse. Not to insinuate that the Mouse ends up as the Cat’s lunch. No. Rather, that one person is always the chaser, and the other constantly needs to be caught.

At first, this notion of love as an unequal minefield had me in a state of depression. I want my match made in Heaven, dammit, and I plan to find it! You’ve got it all wrong, I proclaimed.

Only in the most incompatible partnerships is this morbid concept brought to fruition. Only when two people are wrong for each other is this cruel game of Cat & Mouse played out…or so I thought.

It got me thinking; in love, is there always one person who loves the other more? So I started to analyze the relationships around me; was one half of every couple just along for the ride, while the other drove their love-mobile into the sunset? (With the exception of long-time married couples) - I found my hypothesis to ring 100% true! *Dun Dun Dunnnn*

And it seems this is no secret; popular culture has been making reference to it for years. ‘The one who cares the least carries the power in the relationship’ or ‘In love, there is always one who kisses and one who offers the cheek.’

To quote HIMYM ‘one half of a relationship is The Reacher, while the other is The Settler’’ (let’s not kid ourselves, Lily is *totally* The Reacher). Or Will & Grace; one person is The Gardner, while the other is The Rose. In this analogy, The Gardner tends to The Rose so it may blossom and prosper, all the while The Gardner gets RSI from the watering can!

You get the picture.

So if you’re like me, and waiting for that perfect date, that equal partnership, it seems we should stop being so ignorant. Look around and smell the roses… or your watering can. Because it’s time to decide, are you a Cat or Mouse? Reacher or Settler?

Catch me if you can – Rhea

Game Over

Playing the game was meant to be fun, until it wasn’t. No one likes to lose, especially when you have just managed to buy 3 hotels in Monopoly. However, sometimes one wrong move can see you mortgaging your miniature green empire, and your not-so-fictional heart is put on the line when your top hat lands on the forceful whistled man square that tells you to 'go to jail'.

Often we go into things with a game plan, a tactic that aims to conquer. I myself have been known to play a good game, have a bit of fun and then pull out at the peak of my success. A fool proof plan, until one of the fools playing pulls at your heart strings and you don’t know why there are butterflies invading that simple game of Jenga which you thought you had mastered. Suddenly that Jenga tower is falling and you are a victim of the very game you created.

I will draw reference to the previously mentioned bad boy. A true bad boy possess an amazing grasp of the game, the age old concept of finding that perfect restaurant in order to create that exact mood he knows the girl will swoon over, all within close proximity to his bachelor pad is just the first move. A good friend of mine and self-confessed bad boy told me via text just the other day ‘I’m too good at being a seducer, my down fall is my amazingness’, clearly he suffers from a large scale self-confidence problem- Ha!. That’s the thing it’s the confidence, which the bad boy possesses which makes him so good at the game. His poker face, so to speak is one of the best in town.

So what happens when the lady friend they long for, calls their bluff? The board game equivalent of ‘not passing go and not collecting 200 dollars’, that’s what. This same bad boy it seems can be a sufferer of the very means of his own game. Actually falling for a girl, who is ‘playing’ hard to get, is Mr. Murphy biting him in the behind, for all those times he ever promised a lady a follow up date, a call the next morning or a souvenir from his business trip.

Now before we go burning our bras and go observing October 11th as the day of Bad Boy Banishment, let’s not forget that us ladies can also play a good game. Perhaps not to the same extent, which a bad boy can, but we know that, if we blow on those die just before rolling them and use enough of our charm, alongside the batting of those mascara laden lashes, we can quite easily venture into the community chest.

I guess, recent events have brought to light the fact that playing the game has to end at some point. That at some point there will be a genuine emotion, which takes over. Don’t go building ridiculous amounts of bad karma. I mean, by all means have fun, but being upfront with what you seek from that ‘relationship’, ‘twice a week pash’ or ‘thrice a week dash’ is essential. Put all your cards on the table; give those involved a chance to make their next game move. Otherwise sooner rather than later you will hear the not so playful words ‘Check Mate.’ - Agi

Beautiful Friendship

In 1989, When Harry met Sally, we learnt that maybe ‘the one’ had been standing next to us all along; making us laugh, giving us dating advice and singing "Surry with the Fringe on Top." Maybe our last option for a date to that New Years Party, really is the best option? It may be weird to start thinking of him in ‘that way’, but it all comes down to two words: Shared History.

But is friendship enough? Is your shared history, the key to your future happiness?

Sally believed so, and when you think about it, she had a plethora of reasons for choosing Harry to live happily ever after with...

Your best guy friend already knows you want a dressing room to rival SJP’s, require His & Her bathrooms to survive a relationship, and want to name your first born Alicia. Friends have these discussions; there is no fear of the truth, no asking yourself, What if he doesn't like the name Alicia?

And if you’ve been friends for a while, chances are he knows a lot more about you than your taste in girls names…That drunken hookup with your friend's ex-boyfriend? He knows about it. The stripper he dated in his early twenties? You're her Facebook friend. These secrets we’re normally too scared to share with a new partner for fear of judgment; our friends already know. And we're also less likely to care about them, when we know they're just one small part of someone's past.

He’s already seen you in your less than stellar moments; he's wiped away your drunken tears, he’s seen your morning panda eyes, post-workout headband hair, and with a spoon gripped in your palm halfway through a tub of ice cream—and he still loves you.

He really knows you (this is the big one!) We let our friends see the real us. There is no pressure to be liked, no worries about whether or not we look good enough, and no little lies. The best relationships are built on honesty, so who better to be with than the person you've been honest with from the beginning?
You can spend your whole life looking for a man who loves you for who you truly are, including your collection of babushka dolls, Glee obsession and tendency to dance like Eileen after one (or four) too many Margaritas. Yes, you can spend your whole life looking for such a man. Or…. you can pick up the phone and call your best guy friend; talk about your new babushka doll while watching Glee, sipping a Margarita and busting a move like Eileen.

Bit of a no-brainer, Ladies! - Rhea