You know, I can’t really believe my life.

 

I’ve never really been able to…well, for at least the latter half of it. The twists of fate and fortune (and occasionally misfortune) that lead me to incredible adventures, experiences and people, are often difficult to comprehend, to appreciate. And then there are those adventures themselves. I don’t – for a second – think that my life and times are any more note (or blog) worthy than any other person’s. I don’t think my experiences or perspectives are any more special or valid than anyone else’s, just as I don’t think I’M any more special than anyone else. I simply like to write about them more than most.

 

And also I find myself NEEDING to write about them. So often in my life – especially lately maybe – I find myself sitting back going…”wow!...did that REALLY happen to me?” Perhaps my barometer – my level of normalcy – is still set in the narrow, humdrum, white-bread, middle-class world of my youth – and thus ANYTHING outside of that experience seems amazing to me.

 

Either way, my life experiences in adulthood often spin me out – baffle me, bamboozle me, delight me. Even the bad stuff (and I’ve had my fair share) I appreciate, because it helps me understand depth of feeling and the perspective for valuing my usual great fortune in life.

 

Since I attained self-awareness, the ability and tendency to reflect on myself and my situations, I’ve been a chronic overanalyser. It’s not always a good thing. Sometimes I look at a situation or a feeling in such detail, that I miss the overall picture. More simply – the classic idiom – I can’t see the forest for the trees. Maybe it’s true that I’m self-aware to the point of cluelessness. So overly intellectually articulate that I actually become stupid about the reality of life.

 

And yet (as wonderful as it is) is tough being me. I’m constantly delighting in all the world has to offer me that I seldom stop analyzing it. As well as enjoying and loving my life, my mind is constantly scanning, cataloguing, reviewing, and filing little bits of it. Rarely does my mind switch off and simply relax.

 

It’s simply too excited – too THRILLED – by life to consider that.

 

If you read further into this blog, the main thing you’ll find that interests me is…well…human relations. Pretty much what interests us all. I guess I just enjoy analyzing and recording my thoughts on the topic a little more than most. I love looking at ALL aspects of human relationships, but I guess what interests me most – and relates to my own experiences – is the infinite mystery of male/female relationships. But I love the psychology of friendships and family too, and of any relationships involving power and authority. I’m also fascinated by cultural diversity around the world, and especially the way people have always grasped for meaning in their lives though vicarious escapades like religion, music, art, fables, stories, and lately, movies and television. I’m not a huge fan of sport, but people’s reaction to it does interest me. I love Mother Nature beyond reason, but in its very perfection I find it not as ripe for dissection as the foibles of humanity. Neither is science, but I do find it fascinating too. But I guess at the top of my trivial pursuit categories will always be literature and movies – the main media on this planet that I love to watch and dissect. You’ll find all this and more in the blog, along with another way I love to capture life – photography.

 

I’m crap at photography but occasionally get lucky with a decent shot. The sheer volume of pics I’ve snapped in my life reflects perhaps an obsession to achieve the obviously impossible – to “bottle life” – to keep an unattainable hold on all the wonderful times I’ve had and places I’ve been through an irrational system of memorabilia retention. Part of this is done by hoarding all manner of rubbish, but my favourite methods are photography, and – of course – by writing.

 

I love writing.

 

If I have the time, the patience, and the discipline (and given some requirement or limitation), I believe I have the ability to write succinctly, orderly and concisely. But considering I usually only write for my own amusement and vicarious need, my writing is usually rambling, undisciplined, stream-of-consciousness stuff.

 

This blog is primarily intended as a backup storage facility for all my crappy writings and a way to keep the links to my various photo sites and profiles and favourite sites in one cyberspaceplace. So…even though it’s by me, about me, and for me…I hope you will find something to enjoy within...

 

Use the tree on the right to navigate your way around.

 

Just be aware that one reason I chose Eponym is their gift of adding huge text attachments. So if you are interested in reading in detail about a particular subject, click on the attachment link. Lots of stuff there.

 

I hope you enjoy it.

 

Some – I’m sure – have been bored. But most of the feedback I get is cool. Thus – like a few other kind readers, I hope you find something interesting, illuminating, even inspirational inside. We’re all friends, right? All got something to teach each other? That’s what I reckon’ anyway.

 

One disclaimer before I ramble off.

 

My writings are very open and honest and (mostly) uncensored. Some of my stories, thoughts and morals might be considered offensive by some narrow-minded folk. If there’s a chance that you are one of those, I’m sorry if my openness causes offence. On the other hand I welcome any feedback - positive but especially negative - and if my writings don’t open other minds, then I’d certainly welcome something that might open my own. Additionally, in my writings, if I am critical, perhaps the person I am most critical against is myself. But my writings wouldn’t be honest or complete if I didn’t occasionally say something negative about someone that has crossed my path from time to time. I have also found that – even if I write 99 glowingly positive pages about a person and only one negative page – that the recipient of those negative thoughts will feel unflattered by and dismiss the 99 pages of praise and get grumpy about the single page of criticism. Human nature I guess. All I can say – if you begrudge the occasional negative word about yourself – then there’s probably good reason why those words hit home. And also…remember…it’s just my opinion.

 

OpinionS I should say. Lots of opinions. Lots of perspectives. Lots of adventures. Lots of laughs. Some tears.

 

So…in the words of the band Simple Plan:  “Welcome to my life”... Or more specifically – my blog.

 

And in the words of my favourite character from my favourite movie ever:

 

“Sometimes I amaze even myself…”

 

Or from the same character, even more succinctly:

 

“Hey!!! It’s ME!!!”

 

 

 

 

A friend of mine got engaged recently.

 

I asked her if she loved the guy.

 

If you are reading this in Australia, England, or America, this might seem a strange question to ask. But here…maybe not. Because in Vietnam, I have discovered that (for many, many people) – romantic love is just a fairytale, a juvenile, childish thing to be dallied with once or twice in youth – but never really a consideration for adulthood or especially marriage. Marriage here – for some – is less about love and more about survival. More about security. People here often choose a marriage partner more with their mind, and less with their heart.

 

 

Love and Marriage – Horse and Carriage?

 

 

Love doesn’t really matter for many brides or grooms in Vietnam. What matters is the security of the future. Girls (and/or their parents) will choose a guy based on his potential capacity to financially support her and her family. Guys (and/or their parents) will choose a girl based on her potential capacity for sex, cooking, house maintenance, and especially…child-rearing – and thus to raise children that will support him in his later years.

 

Some of you might find this cynical. But most here – and in many poorer (and/or much more sexist) countries than our own – find it practical, sensible.

 

Following your heart is not seen as a bad thing – unless it conflicts with the practical requirements above. Certainly people prefer to have both – love AND security in a marriage – just like back home. It’s just – compared to back home – love rates a lot lower on the importance scale.

 

I’m not judging, I’m not saying which method is better.

 

Certainly back home, a lot of marriages based purely on romantic love fall apart because of lack of practical foresight into future security. People often get married back home based on intense romantic feelings, and then build the security together – or that’s the plan. Here – the potential security and survival of the partnership is clinically dissected by partners and parents – and if approved of – the marriage will continue, with hopefully love growing over time.

 

But embracing the romantic aspect of love in the early stages of an adult relationship…well, that’s a luxury.

 

Again, like in lots of my writing, there are generalizations above.

 

For starters, I’ve observed hundreds of married couples in Vietnam, and I wouldn’t ever say that these marriages are generally unhappier than the marriages I’ve seen in the West. The men are often very happy with the lordly treatment they get from their wives, and the women generally have a resigned air of acceptance of the dismal treatment they get from their husbands. In other words – I PERSONALLY think the treatment they get is horrible, because I compare it to a standard I’ve seen back home, but these women are comparing it to treatment that their mothers and older sisters have gotten from men, and thus sometimes actually think they are LUCKY. So there’s not a lot of unhappiness in most of the marriages I see, just acceptance – and the women get happiness not from their relationships with their husband, but from their children and female friends and family.

 

Again – MASSIVE generalizations above. I DO see dozens of marriages approaching a kind of equality, where the husband contributes an almost equal amount of love, affection, hard work and respect as the wife does. But when I observe marriages like this, I’m usually thrilled and delighted to see the happy couple or hear their story – and thus – I’m always SURPRISED. So…if I’m surprised to see what I consider a relationship of equality and mutual respect, then…this obviously means such relationships (however abundant) are in the minority, right?

 

And sometimes – even when I DO finally see a marriage I admire and thus a married man I respect, I’m frequently disappointed when – for example – the man invites me down to the local massage parlor (brothel) or introduces me the his girlfriend-on-the side.

 

Anyway…it’s utterly depressing.

 

But this little ramble isn’t supposed to be about marriage. It’s supposed to be about love. And my initial point was about marriages based on love are less frequent over here.

 

But it’s tough to say that marriages are less successful however.

 

Sometimes I think marriages here are approached like two partners opening a company together – a partnership in business. The company’s long term goals are laid out – financial success and security, and raising of children to sustain the family (and the species) later. Both parties in the company partnership commit themselves utterly to fulfilling this contract to the letter. Usually they do. And thus the marriages over here – extremely successful.

 

But it depends upon how success is defined.

 

Marriages obviously in Asia end in divorce a lot less frequently that those in the West but does that mean they are more successful? Longevity does not always equal success. If you define success as the achievement of a goal, and your goal is happiness, then…I don’t know. Spitballing again. There are a lot of unhappy marriages in the West – but women there have the luxury to be more independent and self-involved and navel-gaze that the women here. Wives here may often be unhappy with the “wife” role in their life, but society does not permit much independence or introspection – and women accept their lot so much more – and besides, they find happiness children and friendships. I’m fond of saying that happiness comes more from attitude than situation. And Asians - generally a very happy people – have a wonderful attitude to life, no matter what their situation.

 

So – it ain’t really about happiness, or even successful marriages. But the amount of love felt for your marriage partner often – it seems to me – relates to the amount of respect you show them and how well you treat them – and thus – their happiness. Men are treated with a phenomenal amount of (largely undeserved) respect here as a matter of course. Women give and men take. Thus men are often happier in marriages than women. They don’t NEED to feel the love from their partner – if they’ve got the respect and great treatment anyway. As I explained above, the happiness of a married woman here is less dependent on a husband’s love and respect than in the West, and more simply through her attitude and acceptance. But…certainly, women feel love – true love – from their partners a lot less, apparently, from what I’ve seen and been told.

 

Marriages based on tradition and the perpetuation of the species? Absolutely Adrian!

 

Marriages based on romantic love? Fuggedabowdit!

 

Maybe they’ve got it right and we’ve got it wrong.

 

Maybe we are stupid, impractical, blind, ignorant. Maybe we are foolhardy, romantic dreamers, led astray by too much time to embrace these crazy feelings, too much luxury to read romantic books, see romantic films, indulge romantic flights of fancy.

 

Maybe we embrace and celebrate those quixotic emotions too much, turning our lives – often – into a rollercoaster of heartsongs and heartbreaks. Damn old Will Shakespeare has got a lot to answer for.

 

When I say “we” in the three paragraphs above, I mean obviously “Westerners”. When I say “they”, I mean obviously Vietnamese, or South-East Asians.

 

 

I Want To Break Free

 

 

Taking away my standard “generalization disclaimer” for a second, I’ve got a big, big “exception disclaimer” for my “we” and “they” theory. Because - many people in this country - especially younger people, especially educated people, especially those in the city - are a lot more like their counterparts in the West – with ideals more based on personal happiness and less on survival of their family. In the modern, wealthier, free-thinking, open world, they can afford to be more selfish, more independent, more in charge of their own destinies. Or they can try.

 

One of the reasons most of my Vietnamese friends are under 30 is that 99% of the local people I met here over 30 are no longer single.

 

One of the reasons most of my Vietnamese friends are women is that I respect their attitudes and behavior so much more than those of the men (and their English is usually heaps better!).

 

And of course, one of the reasons most of my Vietnamese friends are women under 30 is that this category is possibly the most physically beautiful category of people in the world.

 

However – all those valid reasons aside – one of the primary reasons most of my Vietnamese friends are younger and unmarried is that...simply…their minds are so much more open than those of older, more traditional people.

 

These people – in their defining years – have to access courage that I – in MY youth - never even had to think out – the courage to be individuals – to be themselves, to stand up and say…”NO”. “What’s right for you may not be right for me. “ And “Maybe I’ll make some mistakes…but they’ll be my mistakes, and they’ll help me grow.” And “I’m free to be me!” Or however that translates into Vietnamese, anyway.

 

Independence is a strange concept in a communist country. Certainly people here – especially people 30 plus - are as similar in character as corn flakes. But my friends – my closest friends – are so varied. All so different. But one factor they all have in common, one factor I respect in them so, so much - is the strength to be themselves.

 

Sophisticated is a difficult word to define. The Microsoft Windows Synonym generator just threw up a few options for me then: “stylish”, “classy”, “refined”, “urbane”. Guess those are all true. But my two favorites from Mr. Gates: “complicated”, and “difficult”. Life is the East – in recent centuries – has certainly been more difficult – in general – that that in the West. Difficult to survive. Difficult to LIVE. But “social life” in the West…certainly with the intense complications that sophistication brings – has been pretty difficult to navigate for some of us. Here in Asia, traditionally, the social life has been simple. In the West…it’s a helluva minefield. A tightrope. That’s the curse and the blessing of it. The danger and the thrill. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

As do some younger Vietnamese, nowadays.

 

Their attempts to become more sophisticated are often most obvious through exterior things like fashion, and not on any inner cool or class. But ANY attempt to break free from traditional social mores is difficult…and often these exterior signs reflect an inner longing for independence, for personal freedom. Not just to dress the way they want, not just to drive the coolest bike and show off the coolest mobile phone.

 

But to hang out with who they want.

 

DO want they want.

 

And love who they want…

 

With a relatively recent opening up to the Western (and supposedly freer) world you can feel a huge upsurge of change. And with change obviously comes conflict, as people fight against parents, fight against tradition, fight against society, as their eyes are opened up to more personally fulfilling destinies. Including the destiny of the perfect partner. The destiny of love.

 

**** Please note: All references to “love” in this article pertain to the romantic, couple-y type love, ok? - the exciting type the gets the most press - and NOT the more common types of love that actually DO make the world go around.

 

So…the friend above? The one I mentioned in the first line of my piece.

 

What did she answer? Did she love the guy she got engaged to? Well…no. In her case, no. She personally chose financial and familial security over love and attraction, the latter of which (believe me) she’s experienced before.

 

Her attitude was that the later half (or two thirds) of her life was not going to be so much about personal fulfillment, but devotion to a husband and children – a husband who would help keep her own older family alive and breed their kids to be successful enough to support her and him in later life. It’s never directly explained to me like that here, but that is basically the traditional circle of familial life in Asia, I’ve ascertained.

 

And love? Sure…that’s nice if it’s around. But affection is generally more than most traditional women have hoped for, and tolerance is sometimes more than enough to expect.    

 

 

As Good As It Gets?

 

 

My friend is approaching 30, and thus – like most Vietnamese females around that age – has had her fair share of being treated like shit by men. Thus, cynicism isn’t uncommon. Younger girls here are more optimistic, generally because their experience of love comes not from real relationships, but more from MTV and cheesy Korean love songs, and from equally naïve, sweet boyfriends who haven’t learned yet to follow the despicable habits of their older brothers and fathers. In other words, these younger girls haven’t been burned yet.

 

Thus women from their late twenties on, including my friend, don’t just have a cynical/practical attitude to marriage, they also have cynical/realistic attitude to love.

 

My good friend – recently engaged – believes that the romantic love you feel when you are thirty has nothing of the intensity and passion of the love you felt when you were twenty-five. And the love you feel when you are twenty-five has nothing of the intensity and passion of the love you felt when you were twenty. And so on…

 

Basically, she believes that love, actually, only really seems exciting and thrilling and passionate to teenagers – and that’s because it’s a fantastic fairytale impossibility.

 

Maybe she’s right.

 

For her.

 

Maybe she’s right for many people.

 

But – when she told me her theory – I told her - genuinely, honestly - that I didn’t think she was right in my case. Her theory wasn’t – I hoped – right for me.

 

I didn’t want the love I felt as a teenager, or in my twenties, or even in my early thirties, to be…as good as it gets. That’s not to disparage that earlier love. Basically, the last time I was in love – early thirties – was the most intense, passionate, warm, exciting, incredible, joyous time of my life – and much better than the intense, passionate, warm love affairs that I’d had before it. For ME, right up until and during my last real relationship, it just kept getting better – which kinda blows a hole in my friend’s theory right there, huh?

 

So…when she laid out her theory for me…a part of Dave…the small negative and pessimistic and cynical part thought…hey…maybe she’s right. Maybe that’s it for me. All downhill from here. But the major part of Dave – the biggest part of me – the 95% positive and optimistic part - thought…nah…life just keeps getting better. Love – or the chance of love – just keeps getting better too, right?

 

Right?

 

Well…

 

I gotta admit, I’ve been a little worried, on and off, the last few years.

 

 

Preventative Purée

 

 

My heart was not exactly broken five years ago. It was ripped outta my chest with a chainsaw, thrown onto jagged grass, stomped on with high-heeled Doc Marten boots, stabbed with a machete, shot with a cannon, scorched with a flame thrower, pulverized with a jack-hammer, then thrown into a blender and pureed until all that was left…well…was puree. A glutinous, pulpy, sticky mess that no one would even recognize as a heart, let alone the remnants of one.

 

I’m not blaming anyone else for these violent actions detailed above, mind you. In fact (due to reasons of emotional blindness, bad timing and incredibly crappy circumstances) I’m the one that did most of the breaking myself – so into self-flagellation I am.

 

But regardless of the cause, the result was…a deeply, deeply broken heart. Extremely cautious. Extremely wary. And basically – extremely dangerous for any women to even ATTEMPT to step within fifteen feet of.

 

I didn’t just erect a brick wall around my heart in 2003. I erected a fort. No. A FortRESS. The sorta fortress that makes the Alamo and those in Lord of the Rings look like a something from a kid’s toy chest. Concrete walls twelve inches thick. Impenetrable steel doorways – actually, scratch that - NO doorways at all. Cannons blistered all over the surface, ready to cut down anyone who came close.

 

As, if fact, they did. Some came close. All were cut down.

 

Because, as well as erecting the fort around my heart, I should have also erected a few warning signs. “Dangerous Ground”. “Stay Away”. “Trespassers WILL be Prosecuted”. “Enter at your own risk”. And “Don’t even THINK about resuscitating this heart, because if you do, your own heart is liable to end up shot down in flames, a sorry burning mess on the battlefield of broken dreams…” That type of catchy thing.

 

I SHOULD have erected those signs.

 

But I didn’t. At least not right away.

 

Because – while my heart knew exactly what it wanted (NOTHING!), my mind and my…umm…libido…had other ideas. My libido wanted physical stimulation. My mind wanted intellectual stimulation. And my spirit was intensely lonely and needed…someone.

 

I’ve been pretty strong between 2003 and now – mostly. I’ve been pretty proud of how well I’ve coped. But – at times – I wasn’t strong enough to BE lonely.

 

My mind and libido have talked to me – constantly over the past five years.

 

My mind has said countless times: “Hey, she’s beautiful, she’s awesome, she’s lovely – go for it!!!”

 

My libido has said to me just as countless times: “Hey…she’s just THERE, just go for it!!!”

 

Thankfully I have listened to my mind more often than my libido, so I haven’t made as many mistakes as I COULD have.

 

But listening to my mind – instead of my heart – has gotten me into almost as much trouble.

 

I’m become friends with countless girls over the past five years. I’ve become – more than friends – with…a few. And when I say girls I mean (friends or no): exceptional examples of humanity. The kindest, loveliest, coolest people.

 

So why wouldn’t I become friends with them?

 

And…if my mind (and yes, often libido) were pushing for more, why wouldn’t. why SHOULDN’T I become more.

 

Because…

 

The heart knows what it wants.

 

The heart knows what it wants.

 

The heart knows what it wants.

 

And…the heart always wins. Maybe not in cynical/realistic Vietnamese relationships, but certainly for me…the heart always wins.

 

I just should have listened to my heart more.

 

My heart – incredibly cautious and impenetrable for five years.

 

My heart – screaming at me – “Keep them away!!!!”, “Don’t let them near!!!”, “I’m not ready!!! I’m still puree!!!”

 

I knew it. And – most of the time – I DID it. I displayed those signs clearly, especially in Vietnam, especially lately. I kept them away, kept them from getting close. But sometimes, a little, for awhile, my mind and libido won over my heart. They convinced it – “hey, let’s hide those signs for now - give this one a go, she’s seems pretty cool”.

 

Nup.

 

I should have listened to my heart more.

 

Because the heart knows what it wants.

 

And the heart always wins.

 

Because, as near-perfect on paper as some of these girls might have seemed to my mind/libido – they didn’t stand a chance of pleasing my heart.

 

The fortress stayed secure. Stayed strong. Stayed impenetrable.

 

Why?

 

WHEN would the fortress around my hear weaken a little?

 

Open up…stop being so wary.

 

Feel.

 

Fall.

 

WHEN?

 

Was it the timing?

 

Was it the girls?

 

Right girls but at the wrong time?

 

Wrong girls for any time?

 

Maybe my heart WAS ready, but the right girl just hadn’t crossed my path for a long time. Or maybe…my heart just…wasn’t ready yet. Maybe it never would be…

 

I was beginning to worry.

 

Five years is a long time. No matter HOW much prodding I gave my heart from my mind and/or libido…nothing. No movement. Just a grumpy old – “Go away!!!”, “Don’t Even Bother!!!”, “Can’t you see I’m sleeping!!!”

 

The trouble was – I wasn’t just hurting myself. In fact – I WASN’T hurting myself. My heart felt nothing, so how could I?

 

But I was hurting others. Some of them just friends. Some of them more. All of them thinking that, maybe hoping that…maybe we could BE more. And me (sometimes) THINKING the same. But FEELING…nothing. Diddly-Squat!!! Nada. Nothing. Zero.

 

So nothing lasted. The second I was pretty sure that my heart was never going to jump into gear with a particular person – and if I knew that person was waiting/hoping for that – I let them know. I tried…this damn great selfish experiment to FEEL again - and undoubtedly - in the process ended up breaking (or at least scarring) a few hearts myself.

 

So I guess I started to get a bit annoyed with MY heart.

 

But…more than that…I began to get worried.

 

Maybe this was it?

 

My heart and spirit has resuscitated a lot from the great collapse of 2002/3. In general I was my old self: incredibly happy, carefree, positive, joyful. I loved my friends, my family, my life. I EMBRACED life again. Incredibly happy. But…missing something. Because my heart – in terms of romance, passion, love for another single soulmate – felt nothing.

 

Five years.

 

A little worried.

 

Maybe my cynical friend was right.

 

Or maybe my heart was so sawn up, stomped on, burnt, shot, jack-hammered, pulverized and pureed that it would NEVER, EVER open up to true love again.

 

Nah…

 

This is ME we are talking about, kiddies.

 

ME!

 

Do you think I’d leave you without a happy ending?

 

Ready yourselves.

 

Because here it comes…

 

Just when I was beginning to doubt myself – to doubt my heart’s capacity to tear down the fortress walls and feel true love again….

 

Just when I was beginning to resign myself to the possibility of life without passion, life without intensity, life without longing…

 

Just when I’d thought that maybe I was growing up…

 

Just when I thought I’d had as good as it gets…

 

She smiled at me.

 

She smiled.

 

At me.

 

One smile.

 

 

The Heart Knows What It Wants

 

 

One smile.

 

And instantly, I could feel the fortress around my heart…the previously impenetrable fortress…shake.

 

A few of those warning signs fell away.

 

My mind reeled, wondering what the hell was going on – five years is a long time – it could barely remember, barely process those feelings.

 

But my mind – well-practiced (five years remember) – recovered – and kept my visage straight-faced. But inside, as the fortress was crumbling, as the signs were falling away, my mind did the only thing it knew how to do.

 

It panicked.

 

It questioned my heart.

 

And the two of them have been arguing ever since.

 

The heart knows what it wants.

 

For five years, mine wanted nothing. Now it knows what it wants.

 

My mind…can barely accept that.

 

Now my MIND is the wary one. Now my MIND is the one throwing up the signs. And because the MIND is an altogether more irritating and complex mechanism than the heart…the MIND is still…very confused.

 

But the heart. The heart knows what it wants.

 

She...

 

From the second I met her, saw her smile, heard her voice, her laugh.

 

Every second since, intensified from the moment before by a thousand…that WANT, that NEED, that DESIRE…

 

My engaged friend was VERY, VERY wrong.

 

Feelings, more intense than any before.

 

She…

 

The initial thunderbolt has turned into a perpetual hurricane of intensity.

 

Sometimes – from what I remember – an initial burst of physical infatuation can fizzle in the light of day – when you realize the inner-substance doesn’t match the dazzling packaging. But here…the opposite. The physical attraction is still intense, still intensifying. It’s nothing compared to the magnetism of herself…her inner beauty.

 

He character, her spirit, her soul…much more desirable than anything on the outside.

 

Of course…

 

She’s far from perfect.

 

She irritatingly intelligent. Annoyingly sharp. Unbearably over-generous. And kinda funny looking, in a supermodel-type way. Like I said – far from perfect.

 

But – to my heart - she’s beyond perfect.

 

The deepest eyes.

 

The sweetest laugh.

 

The loveliest smile.

 

The quickest mind.

 

The strongest spirit.

 

The kindest heart.

 

She is breathtaking. Amazing. Incredible. Gorgeous. Wonderful. Divine.

 

She enters a room and it’s like you are breathing the purest mountain air after decades of digesting the Saigon pollution.

 

She looks you straight in the eyes and it’s like the sun has come out after decades of darkness.

 

She speaks and it’s like hearing a Vivaldi Overture after decades of deafness.

 

She smiles and it’s…like heaven.

 

No.

 

It’s better.

 

Because heaven could never be this good.

 

She’s an angel.

 

Her spirit and her soul infect all around her – she lights up every room with her energy and light…

 

She glows with warmth and goodness, from the outside sure, but mostly from within…

 

She’s naughty, moody, inconsistent, unpredictable, annoying, silly, crazy. She’s incredibly complicated. She’s perfect for me. She’s all wrong for me.

 

And I’ve felt more in two months than I’ve felt in two years.

 

 

Truly, Madly, Deeply…

 

 

My friend was SO wrong.

 

You CAN go back. Because…

 

I’m teen angst personified.

 

She drives me completely crazy.

 

Intense, intense desire.

 

Incredible longing and passion.

 

The magnetic attraction is almost tangible.

 

Every second I’m with her, my heart is jumping around in my chest like a basketball on steroids.

 

Every second I gaze into her eyes, my mind barely controls the intense impulse to hold her in my arms and kiss her deeply, passionately until the clocks stop and time ends and the stars fall from the sky. Forever.

 

Every second she laughs, I imagine listening to that laugh across the breakfast table, everyday for the rest of our lives…through kids and grandkids and friends and places…everything changing except the two of us and our laughter…until we grow so old we can barely hear each others laughter, or comprehend each other’s jokes, but still connect deeply through our eye contact…her perfect, lovely eyes… Forever.

 

Yep…you got it.

 

I’m LOCO. More Lost than the passengers of Oceanic Flight 815. Gone. Outta here.

 

Well…my heart is lost. The two pages above were written directly from my heart. My tainted, lost heart.

 

Whenever I’m NOT with her…I’m thinking about her. Wondering about her. Missing her desperately. Hoping she’s ok. Waiting till I see her.

 

My professional life – never a real priority anyway – has turned to crap. Total distraction. I’m teaching in a daydreamy daze.

 

My motorbike riding in Saigon was done for almost a year with a furrowed, sweaty brow of intense concentration on my surroundings. Lately – especially after seeing her – I’ll be riding my bike on a euphoric, swooning high, and I’ll arrive somewhere with utterly no memory of my ride and how I got there, simply the image of her face and the sound of her voice swirling around in my mind, and a dopey smile on my face.

 

My tennis game – like my teaching – has turned to crap. I consider myself lucky if I can focus my mind OFF her for more the millisecond required to prevent Lee’s serve from slamming me in the balls.

 

My personal life – still great – is spent with lots of wonderful friends either listening to me swoon in delight and/or angst, or wondering why I have completely zoned them out with a blissful smile and a trail of chin-drool. Chats with best friends seem to revolve around juvenile discussion and analysis of my feelings in an attempt to make some sense of them. Which is impossible.

 

These feelings – and what is so great and so bad and so crazy and so wonderful about them – is that they CANNOT be understood. They CANNOT be defined.

 

And they cannot be controlled.

 

Well, not by me. And even if I could…would I want to?

 

Before…I had oodles of self control…

 

Well I didn’t NEED it. I didn’t have the feelings TO control.

 

NOW, I’ve got the feelings – which arguably need the most control of all…and…all self-control is lost.

 

Too be honest, I’m not even trying. I’m controlling my behavior sure. I ain’t fooling ANYONE that knows me well (including her) but…generally, on the surface…sure…self-control is at Defcon 3 and holding. Behavior controlled. But my feelings. Nup. Why would I? Numb for so long. Now - sensation again. Who wants to control that?

 

I can FEEL!!!

 

I’m reveling in every single feeling. Even the bad ones. Even the misery, even the confusion, even the longing.

 

But especially the good ones. Passion. Desire. Respect. Admiration. Appreciation. Wonder. Awe. Longing. And…should I say it?

 

The BIG ONE? Should I say that word?

 

Sure why not?

 

Because…

 

I’m thrilled.

 

I’m delighting in every second of this.

 

My mind may be confused and dyslexic as hell, by my heart is in the clouds, and my spirit is soaring.

 

Because…as wonderful and as perfect as my life was before, suddenly…crazily…

 

I can FEEL again.

 

Feel with such intensity that the colours seem more colourful and the smells more potent. Everything is clearer, sharper, better.

 

Life IS better.

 

The fortress around my heart has crumbled to the ground, to dust…

 

The puree has miraculously reformed itself into an intensely rebeating, reFEELING organ.

 

I can feel again.

 

Thanks to the most incredible, amazing, beautiful, special girl ever put on the Earth.

 

Thanks to timing, to serendipity, and to me.

 

And…miraculously, unbelievably, impossibly…it finally appears that I AM truly, madly, deeply, utterly, hopelessly, completely, miserably, wonderfully, terribly, totally…and FINALLY…in love, actually.

 

 

 

--------------

 

 

Poetic Justice

 

 

 

 

“What do women want?”

 

That’s a “Freudian quote” - as opposed to a Freudian slip.

 

And after 30 years of studying people, Sigmund Freud – maybe the most preeminent psychoanalyst of his (on any other) time - said that that ONE question was the only one which he didn’t have the answer for.

 

He had an answer for almost everything.

 

But…

 

“What do women want?”

 

He had absolutely no idea.

 

Join the club, Siggie…

 

Join the club.

 

-----

 

Women are the most wonderful, most infuriating, most fascinating, most crazy, most special, most baffling, most exiting…and most inexplicable force in the universe.

 

And I love them.

 

I (like my old mate Freud) will never understand them.

 

And I love them.

 

I’ve had to learn a WHOLE new set of rules in Vietnam when dealing with women…and they have definitely been challenging part of my extreme culture shock over here.

 

And I love them.

 

I actually understand them less and less every day.

 

And I love them.

 

But they smell nice.

 

And I love them.

 

And the sweetest smelling of them all…to me…the girl who is the most wonderful, infuriating, fascinating, special, baffling, exciting and inexplicable of them all…she’s simply the best.

 

And I love her…

 

 

----

 

 

There’s no way I could even BEGIN to tell you about my experiences with women over here.

 

There’s no way – for reasons of digression and respect – that I would even want to.

 

But…to make you understand the screwed up, wonderful little package that is me…I gotta try.

 

So…of course I won’t go into detail.

 

Or course I won’t mention any names.

 

Of course I’ll speak in the broadest possible terms.

 

But...to be brutally honest, a HUGE part of my life in Vietnam, especially the past year in Saigon, has revolved around women. And – for better or worse – that’s been/is a huge part of who I am.

 

I’m actually going to leave the bulk of my impressions of single Vietnamese women for the forthcoming chapter of Mr. Saigon.

 

This little spiel is not so much about my specific experiences with those women. It’s actually more of a post-Freudian psychobabbling analysis of “what women what”, based on my own experiences - and also about how my current situation with one particular lady...is…poetic justice. Irony. Karma.

 

Karma certainly DOES bite you in the ass.

 

Certainly does creep up on you when you least expect it – and most deserve it.

 

And karma is right now taking a hugely sizeable chunk outta my hugely sizable posterior.

 

I shoulda – in retrospect – known it was coming.

 

But I didn’t expect it.

 

And I damn well deserve it.

 

Karma…

 

Irony…

 

Poetic Justice…

 

Ouch.

 

 

 

Resume for Romance

 

 

I’m not a good looking guy. I’m down with that fact. Not UGLY, mind you. But not particularly cute.  I’m just…me. A normal looking guy.

 

Physically, nothing special for a guy my age…but nothing grotesque either.

 

General type of pear-shape physique.

 

OK calves, nice hands, long fingernails even when trimmed, weird hips, big butt, freckly skin, modest belly, floppy love handles. Hirsute forearms with pretty spastic hair configurations.  Exceptional feet – perfectly proportioned – the only physical thing I’m really proud of. But small – considering my height. And you know what that means…

 

That’s my weird body. My metabolism has slowed down lately – as they do – but I can still consume vast quantities of almost anything vaguely disguised as food or drink without bloating too much. I’ve generally had a happy, semi-outdoorsy, completely non-smoking, mostly non-drug-taking/non-alcoholic life - so I guess body wise I’m an edge ahead of the average for most Western guys my age - but not much.

 

Maybe I look less like a pear and more like a diamond.  Well, not shiny and gorgeous like a diamond, I just mean my bod has a diamond shape – with the top and bottom being the best bits. In the middle – the butt, the gut, the hips – all bulging out unattractively. But getting better towards each end. At the bottom - the nice calves and the exceptional feet.

 

And at the top – my hair.

 

To recap an oft-quoted observation from many-a-friend about my looks: “It’s all about the hair.”

 

My hair gets a lot of attention – and I still haven’t worked out if that’s good or bad. Many I’m sure think it’s the definition of catastrophe, an expression of chaos sculpted in locks and waves. I personally love my hair, but that’s mainly because I love having something to run my hands through when I’m thinking – it feels cool.

 

It’s certainly different, especially over here in Asia, where dark, flat hair is obviously the norm. My hair has darkened with age, but it’s still got a touch of its original blonde. So it ain’t Asian dark. And it’s totally the opposite of Asian FLAT. It’s wild and crazy and untamed and untamable and messy and floppy. If any part of my body is a metaphor for the insanity going on within my mind and heart – it’s my hair. I love it – and even if people don’t love it – most of them (if they are uninhibited) love to comment on it.

 

My hair might be remarkable but all it really does is top an unremarkable face.

 

Like the body, nothing special, but alternatively, nothing repulsive, hopefully. Ears a little big. Mouth a little small. Capped front tooth. Normal sorta nose. Eyes sparkling or closed, depending on the company. A smile that’s seldom forced, and rarely off. It’s hopefully NOT (as the saying goes) a face that only a mother could love – but it’s also a face that will quite likely never grace the Vogue centerfold.

 

But it’s my face and I love it.

 

Hey, it’s me!

 

I wouldn’t trade a single thing above my visage if I could, and as for my physique…well - except maybe losing a few pounds around the midsection – I’ve gotten used to that too.

 

What all this saying is that…

 

I’M personally pretty happy and content with this shell I get around in (or at least resigned to it).

 

But…contrary to the usual lines of bullshit spoken about everyone by flirts and well-meaning friends or lovers– I ain’t nothing special to look at.

 

But Goddamn am I special inside!!!

 

That’s a joke ok…

 

Well, sorta.

 

 

 

No Specials Today

 

 

EVERYONE is – by definition – special inside.

 

And – sure I’ve got a helluva lot of faults, sure I’ll always be a screwed-up work-in-progress, but…overall, I think I’m pretty special.

 

“Special” though is not always a good thing. The word usually carries positive connotations, but it can be more general – special people are unique, different…and not always in a good way.

 

Mostly, I hope I’m special in a good way.

 

But that’s just to me.

 

I love who I am, where I’ve been, what I’ve done – but none of that is perfect. I love where I’m going too – and despite aiming for perfection there too…well hopes and expectations seldom meet.

 

There’s a lot about me that’s different from everyone else – some good, some bad. It just makes me “me”. It just makes me special.

 

And – for better or worse – I wouldn’t trade “me” – the outside, but specifically, ESPECIALLY the inside – for anything. Even my faults. Because my faults are opportunities. Challenges. And they make life more interesting.

 

So basically - what the above blurb says is that – I’m happy with who I am, but far from perfect.

 

And – I’m special – but only, really, to me.

 

I’ve been special – REALLY special – to only a few other people in my life.

 

In other words – only a few other people have really, truly taken the chance and the time to understand me – and found something special inside. Just as I have done the same thing for me.

 

I love – pretty much – everybody. Even the freaks, weirdoes and screwballs – I can find something of benefit – something to learn in their characters. And loving the oddballs and the cruel folk is often a better way to understand them (and maybe help them) than by hating them.

 

Everyone is a special person.

 

But really, truly – in my life, there have only been a handful of truly special people to me.

 

I hope – and believe that I have been truly special to them to.

 

But…things change.

 

They – each member of this “handful” – will always be special to me. But things change.

 

Of these people…

 

Three of the most special – whether they were best friends or best lovers doesn’t really matter…things really changed. And – while I believe we will always be special to each other…things changed. Priorities and circumstances and locations and situations changed. Life changed. Shit happened. We moved on.

 

The other one – the only other person in my life who was truly special to me – and (perhaps more importantly) MADE me feel really important to her…this person…this special person…died.

 

She’s gone.

 

A lot of types of relationships can make you feel special.

 

Certainly the most important and sustaining is your relationship with yourself. But the other relationships are incredibly important to – whether they are with friends, lovers, parents.

 

Not a lot of things separate homo-sapiens from the rest of the animals.

 

Living over here in Vietnam – and also perhaps growing up and becoming more realistic - I’ve realized that we are LOT more like the animals that we care to admit – especially in the way our primordial need to sustain the species is represented in our gender inequality – specifically the male’s primal urge to spread his seed across as many partners as possible, and the female’s basic instinct to nest and nurture emergent life.

 

But there’s one big thing – perhaps the biggest thing - that separates us from the animals - and no, it’s not “American Idol”.

 

It’s the need to feel special.

 

More specifically - our need to feel that OTHERS feel we are special.

 

Our need to feel that we matter. That we make a difference.

 

Matter to someone. Make a difference to anyone. Are special to somebody.

 

Unlike with animals, it’s not just about survival.

 

We need to matter.

 

We do this in so many different, personal ways. Some of us structure our lives so that we matter in our careers, our jobs. Some of us try to leave legacies of art or inventions. Many, many people – especially women – make their lives “matter” by simply having children who need them. Many of us form strong friendships, and relationships. Perhaps the most satisfying way of “mattering”, of feeling we are special, is having another person understand us completely – and knowing that we make a positive difference in their lives.

 

Whatever way we do it however, we simply need to matter.

 

We need to feel special.

 

That’s our quest, our basic driving force (beyond Maslow’s other hierarchical levels).

 

And ME….

 

Well, I haven’t feel special for a long time.

 

Not truly, really special.

 

My friends and family have liked me, loved me, tolerated me sure. But…since 2002…no one has made me feel like they truly understood me. Like they truly wanted to. Since 2004…I haven’t felt truly loved. Truly special.

 

It doesn’t bear on my happiness.

 

Many of my friends are constantly telling me that I’m the most consistently happy person they now. Sometimes that’s an act – but more often the act is symbolic of an attitude – and the act of convincing ME (as much as anyone else) that I am happy – basically smiling from the outside in – instead of the more traditional way. But usually – 99% of the time – I never need to act. I’m damn happy.

 

But.

 

Something is missing.

 

Something is empty.

 

I feel special to myself.

 

But that’s not enough.

 

Like all of us –

 

I need to feel special to someone else.

 

I need to matter.

 

And I don’t…

 

I don’t matter.

 

I’m not special to anyone.

 

And I need to be.

 

That’s me.

 

That’s life.

 

Most of you reading this will be very special to at least one other person – a parent, a lover, a best friend.

 

You are very lucky.

 

The rest of you…well, you may feel like me. And if you think you don’t feel like me…you’re probably lying to yourself.

 

But that’s ok. I do that a lot too.

 

A human being’s quest to feel “mattered”, to feel special by others – well – sometimes this quest is a garden path. Sometimes it’s a rollercoaster.

 

But trust me – this quest is inbuilt into every one of us.

 

And right now – with my current feelings for another person – I’ve become my much more cognizant of this quest that ever before.

 

I’m special – DAMN special!!! – to me.

 

But to anyone – ANYONE else…

 

Nup.

 

I’m simply not that special to anyone.

 

For me to BECOME special to anyone

 

Four things must happen:

 

(1) I must WANT to become special to them.

 

(2) I must give them the opportunity to know me and understand me.

 

(3) They must take that opportunity.

 

(4) And they have to like what they see.

 

Numbers (3) and (4) sorta depends on the first two things happening first. And for the past five years – numbers (1) and (2) – BIG problem. For reasons hinted at in “Love, Actually” (my little prequel to this piece) I haven’t wanted to become close to anyone, and I haven’t let anyone come close.

 

Big problem.

 

Thus…as far as the “not feeling special today” thing goes – I’ve only got myself to blame for not letting a single soul close. And I guess that’s not one my finer selling points.

 

Speaking of which - back to my personal resume – my CV for a QT. Just a recap. But because I’m ridiculously honest and open in everything I do…it’s got the bad stuff along with the good:

 

Physical Appearance: average – nothing special, nothing grotesque. Gorgeous feet. Squiggly love handles. Crazy hair

 

Personality: Again – nothing special (except to me). Far from average. Very happy – mostly. But very laidback, carefree, almost careless. Very independent, maybe TOO independent. Often obnoxious, in a charming way. Pretty generous with loved ones. Pretty friendly with most. Love people, love to laugh. Love new things. Often a great, supportive friend. Occasionally an adequate boyfriend. Fiercely loyal to closest friends. Interesting yet currently average career. Significant wealth and ambition, but that’s rarely advertised. Really not that special – until someone looks a little deeper. Even then – when looked at a deeper – maybe not always special in a positive way.

 

Sure I’m happy 99% of the time - and hopefully that reflects into a positive, happy mood that people who cross my path can enjoy a little too. But…1% of the time...sometimes I’m too tired to be happy. Sometimes life gets too much for me. And…at these times…I’m surely NOT a joy to be around.

 

So yeah…mostly I can be happy…

 

….but sometimes I can be sad.

 

Sometimes I can be energetic and enthusiastic…

 

…but sometimes I can be flat and dull.

 

Sometimes I can be as smooth and suave as James Bond…

 

…but sometimes I can be as gross and graceless as a Neanderthal.

 

Sometimes I can be as strong and determined as Superman…

 

…but sometimes I can be as weak and vacillating as a Grandma buying groceries.

 

Sometimes I’m cool…

 

…sometimes I’m not.

 

In other words, most of the time I fall somewhere in between.

 

In other words, I’m not perfect.

 

In other words…I’m just human.

 

In other words…I’m a MAN.

 

In other words – for a girl sizing up a potential match, a potential catch…I’m not really that impressive.

 

Just a normal guy with a few abnormal cool things and a few abnormal poor things.

 

On paper, nothing special.

 

On paper, not much of a catch.

 

And yet…

 

Lately…

 

I seem to be.

 

I’m the Catch of the Day.

 

 

 

Pathetic Perfume

 

 

There have been times in my life when I’ve been desperate.

 

I use that word NOT to mean “frantic”, “depressed”, “anxious”, “worried”, “fraught” or any of Bill Gates’ other synonyms.

 

I mean desperate…for love. For sex. For intimacy. For women. For a woman. Or for any woman.

 

Lots of guys – I’m sure - can relate to this feeling.

 

You are so desperate, so needy for feminine intimacy or companionship, your radar is constantly set on scan. Your tongue is constantly lolling outta your mouth leaving a trail of drool. And the desperation reeks from every pore of your body like a new perfume called “Pathetic”.

 

I’ve been there. Like I said, there have been a lot of times in my life when I’ve been desperate.

 

In fact, the decade between 15 and 25 was probably the most prominent of those.

 

But there were a couple of other (thankfully shorter) times.

 

And you know what?

 

ALL of those times – each era that I reeked constantly of desperation – I never found a girlfriend. I never got laid. I – for better or worse (and often I thought it worse!) – remained single.

 

Why?

 

Well…because…girls are like dogs…

 

(Now I know some of you are saying that I’ve written that sentence wrong and it shouldn’t read “because girls are like dogs” but instead, “because girls ARE dogs”. But that’s not my point).

 

Girls are like dogs in a very important way.

 

Dogs can smell fear.

 

Girls can smell desperation.

 

And they HATE it.

 

Girls hate desperation coming from a guy.

 

It puts an incredible amount of pressure and expectation on them which they just don’t want.

 

We all want to be needed.

 

But - especially early on – before a couple even really know each other – even really connect – for a guy to be sending out signals of desperation…

 

Not good.

 

The scent of desperation comes from lots of girls, yes – and it makes some guys run – sure. But many guys will often shag, date or marry a desperate girl – simply because he’s a guy and because she’s THERE. But in gender reverse…this pattern isn’t as obvious. Arrogant males like to think that they choose their female partners. Not really. Like in most of the animal kingdom – it’s the females who ultimately make the big decisions about who they’ll end up with. Simply because guys will choose a plethora of women. Guys find it very difficult to (in the famous words of Red Leader) “stay on target”. So – by choosing (or being desperate for) so many – they simply don’t choose ONE at all. They throw out a net and hope for the best. And a woman – maybe in that net – but maybe not – will one day make the decision about which guy to accept. And they are rarely desperate about doing it. As opposed to us guys. Reeking of desperation.

 

Girls NEED to feel that a man – a potential partner – is strong – and thus that he DOESN’T need her. If he shows that he DOES need her – wow – her first impression is: “Isn’t that “Pathetic” cologne you’re wearing?” She instantly thinks of you as less of a man…and runs away!!!

 

How does this jell with our need to be needed – to feel someone else feels we are special? Well, we humans are complex beings, especially those on Oprah and in DreamWorks cartoons.

 

We want to be needed. We want to be loved. We want to be wanted. We want to be special to someone. We want to matter.

 

But – for ALL of these – we know – often subconsciously - that for such a thing to be of value – real value…then the person who loves, wants, needs us and feels we are special – for that person to feel all those things – IT MUST TAKE TIME.

 

If a girl I hardly know declares I’m special – well that’s sweet, but means little.

 

If a girl who has been my best friend for a few years and seen me at my best AND my worst - at my most fantastic AND at my most fallible - declares that I’m special – that means a helluva lot more.

 

We need people to think we are special, need people to need us.  But only if they know us. Only if they understand us.

 

And – we KNOW this – unless we (like many movie stars and models) are in denial.

 

When a guy tells a girl she’s special without really knowing her – he doesn’t want her. He wants her body.

 

When a girl tells a guy he’s special without really knowing him – she doesn’t want him. She wants his body (or if you live in South East Asia – maybe his bankcard and/or passport).

 

The target could be something else – for either gender. Money. A job. Security. Free English lessons.

 

But – whatever we want – whatever our crazy libidos or instincts are telling us we want in someone without us truly knowing them…

 

Well…whatever it is…we don’t really want them. Because we don’t really know them.

 

We want to loved and needed etc etc etc

 

-          but another component to this equation is VITAL.

 

We want this from people that KNOW us well. Understand us. Accept us.

 

And relationships with short term desperation don’t work like that.

 

Desperation also implies something else:

 

“I’m not happy!”    “I can only be happy with you!”     “Save me!!!”

 

That puts a helluva lot of pressure on people. To accept an offer like that is to take on a responsibility few people want.

 

So…I’ve been there – both sides of the coin.

 

I’ve felt desperation coming from girls.

 

And I’ve directed it straight out from myself.

 

And – alas in retrospect – I know that it’s a huge bummer.

 

It never works – expect in the odd movie – and then – if it’s a good movie – it’s when the leads know and sympathize with each other to a significant extent.

 

Desperation in casual relationships, in friendships, in first meetings…

 

NEVER EVER WORKS

 

Because when I’ve been desperate –

 

Literally no one has been interested in me

 

But…Catch 22.

 

When you are desperate, you get nothing.

 

And when I’m the antithesis of desperate – when I don’t need or want anyone at all…and it’s obvious to all…

 

It’s raining women.

 

Almost literally.

 

You wouldn’t believe it.

 

But it’s true.

 

And you know WHY?

 

Because I just don’t care…

 

 

 

Catch of the Day…or Catch 22?

 

 

Many of my friends would argue that I’ve always been so blind to feminine interest in me that I should have a seeing-eye dog with me at all times – a seeing-eye dog trained to sniff out pheromones. And it’s true – for most of my life I’ve been totally clueless in picking up whether a girl might be interested in me. But…I’m getting better…I hope…

 

And even I am perceptive enough to notice the increase in interest towards me the last few years.

 

Dozens of women. All available – in some capacity to me. All attractive – in some way – to me.

 

It’s like I’m in Willy Wonka’s factory - and the girls are candy.

 

Take your pick.

 

Trust me…since 2003, it’s been almost as simple as that.

 

I’m treated like I’m the Catch of the Day.

 

But the situation is total Catch 22.

 

I’m not desperate.

 

I don’t want them. I don’t need them. I don’t care about them. (Well, I care about THEM, a lot, just not about HAVING them.)

 

And thus because I don’t want need or care about having them…I’ve got them.

 

Catch 22.

 

Irony.

 

Poetic Justice.

 

Karma.

 

But...hey…stay with me kiddies, the whole poetic justice theme gets better. It gets a LOT more situation (nee GIRL) specific.

 

But before I GET a little more specific….

 

Let’s just recap my situation over the past few years, desperation-wise. And attractiveness-to-girls wise. (Because these two things are inextriciably linked, trust me).

 

15 – 24ish. The Decade of PCD. “Pretty Constant Desperation”. One or two specific (and unfortunate) targets for my desperation. Overall though, just generally directed desperation. And – despite my kindly friends’ frequent assertions to the contrary, not a lot of feminine interest coming back at me.

 

25 – 34 – within this decade, maybe 4 years of blissful couplehood. No need to be desperate then, just happy. The other five or six years – a few isolated cases of STD (“specifically targeted desperation”) but generally, not a huge amount of desperation felt or showed. Result – feminine interest in me rising.

 

35 – 38 – Really crappy circumstances for the first few of those years - and a really CAUTIOUS heart for the last few (refer to my “Love, Actually” entry) meant that there was pretty much ZERO desperation at all, felt or shown. And thus…a downpour of available women. The doors to the Wonka factory opened.

 

Some might argue that the increase in feminine interest over time has less to do with the decrease in desperation I’ve showed, and more to do with my experience - the fact that I’ve become more attuned to (reading – and playing) women over time. Well…I WISH. As each year passes, as Sigmund Freud himself found, I become more and MORE clueless about women’s behaviour and motivations and emotions.

 

But it’s certainly been impossible to miss the rise in interest. Usually I don’t realize until they kiss me, jump on me, or directly proposition me, but sometimes I can pick up on a few subtle cues before that. And I’ve been noticing a lot of these cues lately, both subtle and obvious…

 

Some might also argue that the rise in interest has less to do with my desperation decrease and more to do with situation – or specifically LOCATION. In Vietnam, where attractive women are patently more available to foreigners – why would I ever NEED to feel desperation – thus the plethora of women has made me feel and act less desperate, NOT the other way around.

 

This sounds like it might me a valid theory – but it ain’t – for a few reasons.

 

One – it started raining women on me long BEFORE I even set foot in Vietnam.

 

Two – lots of women that were/are available to me here…well…they are really nice, really classy, really genuine people, really NORMAL – who patently DON’T throw themselves at every Western bankcard they see.

 

And three – there are more than a few guys in this country – guys who on paper are just as attractive/unattractive as me – who have a lot less luck with women. Primarily because – they want women so much. And I don’t.

 

Well, didn’t.

 

Because…

 

Bring on NOW…

 

The age of 39.

 

Reversal of Fortune.

 

Off the scale.

 

An intensely ridiculous case of STD. Specifically Targeted Desperation. Wow.

 

Who woulda thunk it?

 

Well, anyone with an ounce of common sense. Anyone who knows anything about karma. About irony. About poetic justice.

 

And…in the immortal words of Justin Timberlake: “What goes around comes around.”

 

Ouch…

 

 

 

Isn’t It Ironic?

 

 

In 2003, after my heartbreak really took hold, and the responsibility of caring for Mum really set in…I – shut down, emotionally. I needed to – just to stay alive, just to survive. And the only reason I cared about keeping myself alive was that someone I cared about a helluva lot more than myself needed me to help keep HER alive. I’ve no doubt that I saved her life – or at least extended it. And ironically – she saved mine. My sole focus for two years was keeping my Mum as comfortable and as happy as possible. Everything else – work, friends, girls – had to fit in around that. Even WITHOUT the romantic heartbreak I suffered just before that – even without the cautious heart – girls didn’t stand a chance with me. Sure my libido and my mind tried to convince me otherwise a few times, but it was patently obvious to ANYONE who knew me or saw me or heard me in 2003 -2004 that I was the LEAST desperate guy out there.

 

And thus – even with my feeble, misguided attempts (specifically internet dating) to TRY to connect, to TRY a relationship…nothing worked. But…a funny thing happened. The less interested I was, the more interested they were.

 

I literally had women dripping off me. I can’t think of a single one that I actually dated (in my casual, non-committed way) that DIDN’T want more. And the only thing that was really different about me from before? I wasn’t emotionally available.

 

Bring on Vietnam.

 

I was also emotionally unavailable HERE for the first year or two, but I wasn’t consciously aware of it until 2007. But – what I WAS consciously aware of was my caution. I was incredibly cautious on arrival here. I avoided any relationships beyond friendship like the plague - for several reasons – (1) I didn’t want to play with people who didn’t understand the games people play back home. (2)  I didn’t understand the DIFFERENT games they play over here. And especially: (3) My respect for the differences in culture and relationship expectations, and my wariness about hurting both parties in a relationship because of subsequent misunderstandings. In Vung Tau I had lots of friends, a few random snogs, but you’d never really say that I “dated”. Saigon – the past year – a helluva lot different. Different types of people, different types of girls. Lots of them seemingly modern, Western, understanding, accepting…willing to take things slowly and give me and my wasted heart a chance. So…as you’ll see in “Love, Actually” – I tried. I dated – a few. But…also refer to “Love Actually”…the heart stayed fortified. Noting got through.

 

And thus – Catch 22.

 

Nothing really was felt – needed by me. I didn’t care.

 

I wasn’t desperate.

 

I was anti-pathetic.

 

And thus…

 

I became instantly a lot more attractive.

 

I needed no one.

 

They needed me.

 

I ran away – or at least stepped back (I never run away from nice friends).

 

And the cycle continued.

 

In the most famous words of Ms Morrisette:

 

“Isn’t it ironic? Don’t ya think?”

 

Like I said up above in this article – in the “resume for romance” bit – I’m nothing special to look at. Average personality – until you look closer. Average earning potential (to all appearances). Above average wit, charm and charisma – but I save that for the special people.

 

Thus, on paper, at first glance – exceedingly average.

 

And even MORE amazing – consider this: my age.

 

I’m 39. I don’t feel a second older than I did when I 25, but I damn sure must look it.

 

General prevailing shallowness is that people become less and less physically attractive once the rate of cell reproduction is overtaken by the rate of cell breakdown – around the age of 20, right?  This happens to be a pretty shallow theory which I personally don’t agree with, but…

 

If that theory holds value then technically, on paper – I should be HALF as good-looking as I was at the age of 20. Because I’m almost twice that.

 

I’m constantly told nice things about myself in Vietnam as a matter of culture and course, and I take them ALL with a grain of salt. But one opinion which the Vietnamese honestly seem to share with Westerners is that I look younger than my age. Now – I KNOW that it’s common practice to say that – in any culture, especially to the opposite sex.  But I believe I’m perceptive enough to know – mostly - when people are bullcrapping or truly surprised. So yeah, maybe I look a little young, for my age. If that’s true, then I think it due to four things – Oil of Olay, a (mostly) stress-free existence, lots of sleep, and a generally great attitude to life and living. Oh – and one more thing maybe – my Peter Pan syndrome – my obstinate inability to grow up – could be affecting the outside from within.

 

But anyway – whether I look younger than I should or not is irrelevant. Because it seems reasonable to assume that my appearance is declining in direct proportion to the rise in feminine interest towards me.

 

I look average and I’m not looking any better with each year.

 

On paper at least – till you get to know me well – I’m nothing too impressive at all.

 

And yet.

 

Downpour. Wonka Store.

 

Get a raincoat. And let’s go shopping.

 

Why?

 

Why?

 

Why?

 

Why are all these crazy women throwing themselves at me?

 

Because simply - I just don’t care. I‘m not desperate in the slightest.

 

Gotta digress, cause saying I just don’t care – is really wrong. Because I DO care about all these girls.

 

I love everyone, and if I get close enough to be friends, then…I love them a little bit more.

 

I do care about them.

 

But…I simply don’t care about getting closer to them.

 

But caring ABOUT them is big factor.

 

It’s not just the lack of desperation that has helped me, I believe, with women.

 

It’s the fact that I really, really like them.

 

And I don’t mean I like them in a sexual sense.

 

Sure, I like them that way - but unless they are already a partner, or unless I’m smashed-off-my-face drunk (rare these days) I don’t focus on them in that way, initially.

 

I simply look at them as interesting, beautiful people.

 

I really, really like them. Girls I think can feel that.

 

They feel that I’m not desperate for them – factor in my favor.

 

But they can also feel that I respect them – enormously. And that’s rare.

 

Sure, there’re some girls I don’t respect (if they are liers, misusers, abusers) – I will still treat them with respect, but avoid them.

 

The girls I connect with - and become friends – sometimes more with – I not only like – a lot, but I have enormous respect for.

 

I can’t be friends with someone I don’t respect.

 

I certainly can’t be more.

 

So – I feel respect for these girls. They aren’t stupid. They can feel that.

 

Just like they can sense my lack of desperation, they can (I hope) sense my enormous respect.

 

Over here, my respect for women is generally even higher than back home – as it includes a respect for the way my closest friends have conquered gender inequality and general cultural pressure to become strong, independent individuals.

 

My respect is very, very high.

 

And my desperation is very, very low.

 

In fact I would not even define it as low desperation.

 

It’s “ANTI-DESPERATION”.

 

And that’s a MUCH more attractive cologne to wear than “Pathetic Perfume”, any day…

 

 

 

Doctor Dave in the House

 

 

So…

 

I’m not desperate at all.

 

I’m very respectful of women.

 

Any other secrets of my success?

 

Well…you guys REALLY wanna hear some tips?

 

Well…get ready because you are gonna get them…

 

Lately I have found myself giving advice on how to attract women.

 

And thus…while this blog post is surrounded by the shell of my own karmic and current romantic situation…it’s also gonna contain – from right here – a significant amount of analysis about why and how I’ve recently got so lucky with chickybabes, tied to lots of unsolicited advice following the same ridiculous – yet effective patterns.

 

You will find this incredibly ironic – not only if you knew me in my adolescence – but also if you make it to the end of this epic article and to my current paradox.

 

But dismissing my recent upheaval in emotional state…

 

It seems crazy that a big geeky-goofy dufus like me has anything of value to say about relationships. Friendships – sure. Family stuff – maybe. But attracting women? No way.

 

I’m not saying I UNDERSTAND women. In fact the older I get, the more convinced I am that I know less and less about them.

 

I have no idea WHY they think and act the way they do.

 

They are bizarre. They are crazy.

 

I’ll never get them.

 

I know one thing about them though – in general – that they love to create drama in relationships more than guys do – drama and conflict. But why would anyone WANT drama and conflict? Well, we ALL want drama and conflict in our lives – it keeps us living, it keeps us growing, it keeps us alive. Drama and conflict are addictive – literally – they inspire intense emotions, which really are simply highly addictive chemicals, running around the body. Drama and conflict keep life interesting and challenging, and they give people an illusion of superiority, of control. And drama and conflict are FUN. Drama and conflict are living. They are life.

 

But men and women – generally again – are different here. Men create often drama and conflict and the release of adrenaline by more basic, understandable, logical, literal ways: direct competition, power plays, the desire to conquer, to be number one. But women…well, they are a lot less direct and obvious about their creation of drama. And they often focus their drama creation on relationships. If not theirs, then encouraging it in others. But certainly, single, or newly dating females…they are often masters of drama creation. How?

 

Well...they play games. Games of drama. Attention seeking games. Faux-jealousy games. Stupid, childish games. Female games.

 

Life is a game.

 

But…lots of women simply don’t play fair.

 

A little game playing is fun – if the man understands the game and plays a little back too. And games are often a test, a reasonable test – to see if a man if serious and willing to invest mental and emotional (as opposed to sexual) energy in a relationship.

 

But lots of women simply don’t play fair.

 

But lots of women play games for fun – simply for their own cold-hearted, puppetmaster amusement – simply to see how much pointless control they can get over some poor sap of a guy and boost their own egos.

 

But that’s just some girls. I’ve sorta understand WHY people play such games. But it never gets them ANYWHERE near to fulfilling relationships.

 

Women are simply crazy.

 

All women.

 

But…and here’s another thing…there are no rules. Every girl is an individual character – which affects her behaviour – her behaviour with guys of individual character too. Thus every relationship is different.

 

There are no rules. I know this from experience.

 

Love – and the basis for a strong long-term relationship – can blossom in a drunken second in crowded bar. Or it can initiate after years of platonic friendship and deep understanding. Or a million ways in between. It can be based on many different types (or combinations) of attraction – physical, intellectual, emotional, spiritual. There are no rules.

 

That’s what I love about love.

 

It resists definition.

 

But – also -I can’t resist a challenge…obviously.

 

Initial attraction is perhaps even more challenging to categorize and understand as deep long-standing love.

 

But here goes:

 

Dr Dave is in the House!

 

Get on the couch…

 

Put your feet up…

 

And listen…

 

One stipulation first.

 

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE remember – all this advice (for men OR women) is given assuming that you will only “use” it IF YOU ARE SINGLE AND AVAILABLE – and if the target of your attraction is single and available. I despise cheating and infidelity and the breaking of trust in any form – so PLEASE if you are the type of person that does such things in a relationship…sign off now. From this site, or (better yet) from that life choice.

 

My first little bit of advice MAY seem stupid, obvious even, but…

 

It’s vital. Here it is:

 

KNOW WHAT YOU WANT.

 

In other words, decide what you are looking for in a partner, in a relationship. This will save a LOT of time and energy, trust me.

 

If you simply want sex – whether from one-night stands or fuck buddies – then that’s fine. If you want to screw around until perhaps the option of something serious arises, that’s cool too. Maybe (if you are like I was) you want to move very slowly, cautiously – on a friendship-type basis till you are sure it’s time to move to the next level. No problem. Maybe you want to launch right into a serious relationship or (shock! horror!) marriage ASAP. Big problem with the latter – from my perspective but…

 

If that’s what you want…

 

When you know your goal, your target, you can adjust your behaviour to match.

 

When you don’t…well…people get hurt…

 

You MUST work out want you want. For four years I had no idea what I wanted.

 

Well…(refer to “Love Actually”)…my HEART knew what it wanted…NOTHING. The rest of me – my horny libido, my lonely spirit, my screwed-up mind…had no idea. And I caused a little destruction because of it.

 

Listen to your heart. For better or worse, it knows what you want. It knows what will make you happy.

 

Second bit of advice:

 

BE HONEST.

 

Of course you must be honest with the opposite sex about what you are looking for.

 

This DOESN’T mean going up to every hot girl and asking for a bonk. And it doesn’t mean saying “let’s just be friends” to every average looking girl. No need to be so blatant. Simply let your actions and interest express your intentions and desires. You can be very subtle.

 

Or, you can buy a t-shirt that says: “Stay Single!” on the front, and “...at least till you find true love…” on the back. Subtle, right?

 

But at LEAST as important as being honest with others about what you want in a partner, is being honest with yourself. Admit who you are and what you want.

 

Try it.

 

It’s liberating.

 

OK…so those initial little bits of advice are outta the way. Don’t cheat. Know what you want. And be honest with all about that.

 

Pretty obvious.

 

But here comes the main stuff.

 

And this stuff, to me, till recently, till I thought about it, wasn’t so obvious at all…

 

 

 

The Thrill of the Chase

 

 

Men are often encouraged – via society, movies, TV, Shakespeare, and alcohol – to chase women. Approach them. Court them. Woo them. This is pretty inbred.

 

I HATE the concept of possession when it comes to a relationship…that a guy “catches” a girl and makes her “his”…it’s a very caveman type concept…the club-over-the-head-and-drag-back-to-the-cave thing.

 

Men haven’t progressed much since Neanderthal times. Now, instead of a club, they use a night club. They use fancy cocktails. They use a Visa card. A Porsche. Different era, same concept.

 

It’s programmed by nature deep into our male brains to want to chase, to pursue, to catch, to possess…

 

But…

 

This never worked for me. Chasing never really worked.

 

It doesn’t work for a lot of guys.

 

Why???

 

Well, here’s the kicker.

 

Animals – of which us silly humans are part – are hard-wired by biology to RUN from anything chasing us.

 

So…

 

Men chase. Women run.

 

Nature.

 

Back in the old days – not that long ago - we were like the rest of the animals. Women succumbed pretty quickly to the realization of the man’s higher physical strength. Stopped running. Got caught pretty easily.

 

It’s still similar - in many sad, unenlightened, backward parts of the world today - to this old system …women succumbing to the any pursuing man very quickly

 

And yet…in the modern, current enlightened world, things are different.

 

Women have achieved an almost equal status as men. They are stronger than decades past, they are more independent and they focus more on their own happiness in balance with their partners and their families.

 

And thus they feel they don’t HAVE to be caught, unless they want to.

 

And – even if they WANT to be caught – they like to play games – they like the thrill of the chase, the attention, the drama.

 

The chase thus becomes less of a chase, and more of a dance…

 

And dancing ain’t as easy as chasing. But sometimes it’s a lot more fun.

 

All this stuff basically means that understanding the chase is a LOT more challenging…for the males of our species.

 

And challenging for us is not a bad thing. It certainly makes things more interesting.

 

But – perhaps there’s another way to makes things even MORE interesting.

 

It’s challenging in its own way, sure.

 

But maybe more successful.

 

How?

 

By gender reversing the pattern above, and getting the hunted to chase the hunter…

 

To get the women to chase you…

 

I gotta be honest…

 

This is a skill I never actually learnt or practiced. Things – for me – just sorta fell into place. Only in retrospect have I realized that my accidental carelessness, casualness, carefreeness has been a primary reason for recent successes.

 

But, if you don’t (like me) have the benefit of laziness or heartbreak as a way to install the required behaviour, I would really recommend that instead of CHASING women, you simply learn to ATTRACT them.

 

And the best way to do this?

 

In the words of our old friend, Sigmund Freud: “reverse psychology”.

 

Or in the even MORE succinct words of Chilli Palmer: “Be Cool”.

 

 

 

Be Cool

 

 

When you meet a woman you like, remember:

 

DON’T act desperate.

 

DON’T act insecure.

 

DON’T act like you need her.

 

Women have an inbuilt radar to this stuff. If a single woman meets an even-vaguely attractive single guy, she MAY have in the back of her mind the possibility of it going further. But mainly she is just thinking – hey…is this an interesting guy?...is this going to be an interesting conversation?

 

But when many guys meet a vaguely attractive single women, eons of biology (and their primal need to plant their seed) get in the way. They are thinking (or at least feeling): “Sex?” “Love?” “Marriage?” before a word even gets outta their mouths.

 

Women feel this desperation – this assessment – this pressure on them.

 

The guy is overly attentive, uncomfortable, formal, careful with his words, tense, nervous, worrying about saying the right thing, trying to impress.

 

The guy is constantly analyzing everything he is saying and doing – wondering if it’s the right thing for her.

 

And of course – it’s NOT.

 

If you aren’t relaxed, you ain’t saying the right things.

 

Because you aren’t begin yourself.

 

I watched guys – the coolest, funniest, brightest, smartest guys when they are just being themselves with their friends – completely shutdown in the presence of an attractive woman they’ve met for the first time, or one they’ve met before and decided they like. It’s like they are in a job interview. They are uncomfortable, nervous, trying to impress and very careful about what they say. Their body language is awkward, closed, stiff and/or hyper. They are still nice guys – but their true personalities - for better or worse – never come through.

 

Sure – maybe the girls – even if they can SEE the personality of these guys – wouldn’t be interested anyway – or maybe only interested in a friendly, funny chat.

 

But maybe they WOULD be interested in more. And how are they going to SEE that personality when it is hid under a stilted, nervous mess of over-analysis and discomfort and cheesy lines and formal “impressive” CV readings?

 

Of course, men want to impress women – it’s as inbuilt as the need to plant seed far and wide. But – isn’t it ironic (again) – we NEVER impress women when we TRY to impress them. Only when we are ourselves. Laidback, relaxed, funny.

 

When women get a sense that we are trying to impress them, they read this several ways:

 

This guy isn’t cool/funny/smart enough to impress me by being himself, so he’s got to fake it.

 

This guy’s insecure and down on himself.

 

If this guy isn’t cool, funny, smart comfortable secure or confident – then HE’S gonna make ME feel uncomfortable talking to him…

 

Thus…

 

…”bye”…”nice to meet you”…”see you later”…

 

Another thing these women feel/think – this guy’s like most of the others.

 

MOST single guys – especially if the woman is very attractive - will act a little like the ways I’ve described above.

 

If given even the smallest chance, they will exhibit courtship behaviour early on – TOO early…buying lots of gifts, doing lots of favours – exhibiting a lack of confidence to the prey that they are chasing and making this prey run faster.

 

They will become clingy and express anger or sadness over small things – another thing that exhibits weakness and makes women run.

 

They will kiss the arses of women -not literally- but in a pandering way – or buy into their stupid games and tests…and fail those tests by acting exactly the way the woman tells them too…but doesn’t really want.

 

They will do exactly the same things that these attractive women have watched poor, sucker, chasing guys do for a long, long time.

 

And thus – for attractive women – it’s very predictable. It’s very boring. It’s very obvious. They can READ the song and dance to impress that these men are doing – because they’ve seen it dozens of times before.

 

So…don’t be a predictable guy. Send mixed signals. Women go crazy for that. Hold her with one hand and push her away with the other. Compliment her one second and tease her the next. Mixed signals. When you chat, when you meet, discuss general topics, social issues – don’t lay out your CV right away, personal or otherwise. Keep her curious by being mysterious. It’s a game sure, but we need to be competitive with the game-MASTERS –women. And games can be fun. Say no sometimes. End your conversations, especially the initial meeting, first. Don’t always be available. Don’t “cling” when you are out walking – wander off at times. Drop the “friends” word occasionally and she’ll both feel unthreatned, and wonder why you’ve said it. Stay in control, or try at LEAST to keep the illusion that you have control. Keep the power (or as “Seinfeld”’s George calls it, “the hand”.)

 

Try to remember – or at least give the illusion, that YOU are assessing whether SHE’S right for YOU, not the other way around. And THIS will increase your confidence, THIS will increase your appeal.

 

Stay calm.

 

Stay cool.

 

Don’t show a hint of nervous, or even of obvious interest. As I said above, women are like dogs in that they can smell weakness, neediness, fear. But they are also a lot like cats. And – like cats – they will often ignore the person lavishing the most attention on them. Like cats, they will instead approach the least interested person in the room. 

 

All of this advice suggests an act. But it’s not really an act. It’s simply suppressing your neediness and neurosis. And increasing your courage and cool. It’s about knowing yourself, and being yourself without a hint of desperation.

 

And…when a guy shows not a hint of desperation around an attractive woman…

 

It’s new to her.

 

It’s a challenge.

 

When a guy comes along with the courage (or in my case, the couldn’t-care-careless-edness) to be themselves…

 

These women sit up. Someone different, they think.

 

Someone new. Someone not trying so hard to impress me. Someone I can thus get to know – for better or worse – a lot quicker. Someone who’s not going to waste my time by dancing around like a peacock.

 

Thus…the MAIN MAIN MAIN advice I could give you.

 

Don’t try so hard. Don’t try to impress. Don’t analyze what you are doing or saying. Don’t worry about what she’s thinking. Don’t waste your time or hers.

 

BEEEE yourself.

 

I can hear what you are saying – “being myself” hasn’t worked for ten years, why should it work now? Because…you have to have the courage (or in my case the disinterest) to let go of all the extraneous peacock dance crap…

 

That’ll be the first time women can SEE you.

 

And it creates another phenomenon. The women begin to feel like you have the authorization to screen and choose them, rather than the more standard vice versa. There aren’t used to this. And they panic. They do stupid things.

 

The second I didn’t try hard with women, they started throwing themselves at me.

 

The second I didn’t care, THEY seemed to care.

 

Well…again, I should clarify.

 

When I say I don’t care…that’s sorta wrong. Like I said above…I do care about them. I just don’t care about shagging them that in that instant. But when I meet and befriend a nice woman, I DO care about her – enormously.

 

 

 

Cuddly Care Bear

 

 

I love people, all people, but I love women in general a lot more – and not just for the obvious reasons. When I first meet a guy, from experience I know that he’s so uncomfortable and/or brainwashed into male-bonding exercises that he’s going to try and find something familiar that links him with most other men.

 

So I’m 70% sure he’s going to talk about two things: sport, or tits. I have zero interest in one of those topics, and despite a massive interest in the other – I certainly don’t enjoy talking about them with sweaty strangers I’ve just met. Sport – and women’s bodies – to me are shallow conversations that I’ve had (or more likely heard) dozens of times. There’s no individuality, no variety, no interest. I’m not saying these guys are boring or stupid. Just that – the ritual of blokes meeting blokes is almost as ingrained as that of blokes meeting girls – a burly, masculine, dropped-voice peacock dance – just this time it’s a peacock dance against each other. I’ve developed friendships with lots of guys. It just takes a helluva lot longer – generally – to get past the macho-posturing bullshit and to find out who these guys REALLY are than it does to get to know most girls – who – generally – open up about themselves and their thoughts and feelings about the world – relatively quickly. I’m not saying girls are more interesting than guys deep down (and they are rarely funnier) – just that – especially early on in a friendship – they are MUCH better, much deeper communicators.

 

That’s why I generally prefer meeting women to men.

 

And thus when I DO meet a women – I DO care about her.

 

I said above that “not caring” was one of the secrets of my success.

 

But it wasn’t so much not caring about the women.

 

I really did care about the women – I cared about meeting them, understanding them, getting to know them maybe.

 

But I DIDN’T care about shagging them. I didn’t care about loving them intensely forever. I didn’t care about marrying them.

 

Since early 2001, until…recently…

 

I haven’t met a single woman that I really was preoccupied with having sex, or a relationship, or marriage, with.

 

I just met a lot of nice women I was really happy to know.

 

In any capacity.

 

Certainly some people in our lives influence and affect us more than others. Parents, siblings, close friends, best friends, lovers. These people influence us in both positive and negative ways. And our lives are generally a quest to surround ourselves with experiences – and people – that affect us most positively. That’s normal, that’s natural.

 

But it’s not just the closest people to us that affect us. Sure, they affect us the most significantly, the most constantly, the most intensely. But – all the other people that cross our paths affect us, influence us, and even change us too. These changes and effects are often minute, incremental, tiny. But – when combined – they are still significant.

 

Lots of my friends – especially the older ones – have sorta given up on meeting people. They believe that they’ve learned all they are gonna learn, know all they are gonna know…and thus anytime they meet someone it’s more of a polite formality to be suffered through (or for single guys a simple quest for a shag) than an fulfilling experience. I’m a little different. Obviously my desire to meet and know every human being in the world is impossible – as is even the more modest quest to actually experience a decent connection with the thousands of people I do “meet” every year. So…a little selective screening is in order. I try to keep open to all. Even negative experiences and people are fulfilling to me because I learn and take something away from each one. But…life is short. And I am lazy. It’s easier to communicate deeply with women as opposed to men, so generally (unless I meet a nice, open guy who isn’t afraid to show depth early on) it’s more fulfilling and nicer to communicate with women because they are generally stronger creatures than men – and especially over here – I respect women a helluva lot more.

 

And it’s a lot more challenging – thus interesting and satisfying - to understand the depth of women when compared with men – and thus women are much more fulfilling.

 

So…that’s a significant amount of screening outta the way.

 

As far as connecting with kids go…well…they are actually my most favourite of all…the link to your own inner child, the re-opening of old eyes to renewed things, the joy, the life. I LOVE kids – and in a way I get and learn more from them than even adults, mostly, these days. Kids are inspiring, thrilling, awesome little people. But they are also utterly exhausting. 

 

Another huge amount of screening comes basically from the people that screen ME out. I’ve no interest in meeting people that have no interest in meeting me. No matter HOW gorgeous, successful, intelligent, interesting a person is – if they don’t want to meet me – I accept that and walk away. I DON’T assume the reason the person doesn’t want to connect with me is because of some failing of MINE, but simply something about THEM (primarily a lack of taste!). So I NEVER take rejection personally because I know it’s just as much (if not more) about the rejecter than the rejectee. And – I’m actually GRATEFUL when someone I’ve just met (or hardly met) expresses rejection towards me, because it means I am free to pursue a connection with limitless other options out there – and much nicer options, obviously.

 

And finally how do I meet the best people, the best friends for me? – well, the word “screening” I’ve been using isn’t the best choice. We just dance, back and forth, until…we click.

 

I am open to a meeting, to a connection, with any – well, basically NICE person there is out there. But due to these pesky concepts of time and mortality, I generally only find myself forming close friendships with the strongest or most intelligent or most interesting or most challenging folk. But as for casual friendships…if you’re a nice person and the door is open…come on in…

 

I love people. I love making friends. I love getting to know people. I find women easier to connect with than men, generally.

 

That’s really it, right there.

 

One big secret of my success with women:

 

I enjoy people, friendships, in general.

 

I’m not out there LOOKING for more.

 

I’m not looking for sex, or a short-term relationship, or a long-term relationship, or marriage.

 

As – as such – I’m frequently offered such things – or at least it’s frequently made clear to me that they are available.

 

Because I’m not looking for them.

 

I’m not needy.

 

I don’t NEED anything.

 

I’m not looking for anything.

 

Well…not looking for…but open for something…open to a connection…an exchange of ideas, a few laughs. Maybe a new friend. But beyond that…

 

No NEEDS. No EXPECTATIONS.

 

Thus no pressure.

 

This intrigues a lot of women, especially beautiful, interesting, attractive women who are so USED to pressure, so USED to being hit on by guys that…it’s a nice change.

 

The more casual I act, the more interest I get back.

 

This casualness often translates to the women as confidence – so be it. Maybe I AM confident. But it’s simply confidence about the moment. I’m confident that I can chat to a nice girl for a while and maybe make her laugh or smile or give her something to think about. I’m confident that if she’s a nice person, then I could be a nice friend to her. But that’s IT. I’m not confident that I can satisfy her every sexual desire. I’m not confident that I would make a suitable boyfriend or husband for her. But I never THINK about my connection, my relationship with her beyond that moment, that meeting, that evening. If I DID start thinking about whether I should or could get her into bed or onto the wedding altar, perhaps my mojo would crumble away to dust. But…I never think about that crap.

 

Apart from the glaring exception in my life at the moment, I don’t want any of that future-relationship crap from these girls and thus…

 

I’m cool.

 

I’m controlled.

 

I’m confident.

 

I’m me.

 

Me.

 

So…if I could give ONE tip out there to all the guys I’ve encountered…

 

It would be…

 

Be yourself.

 

Two simple words.

 

Be yourself.

 

Obviously this advice comes laden with a lot of other subtext and conditions.

 

1. Be yourself – and don’t feel insecure of uncomfortable about that. Maybe she’ll decide that “yourself” ain’t worth her time – fine, respect that, if she’s not for you, move onto the next fish in the sea.

 

2. Be CONFIDENT about being yourself. Your insecurity and lack of confidence and neediness may drive her away before she even gets a chance to decide if “yourself” is worth hanging around for or not.

 

3. No expectations (ESPECIALLY sex/love too soon).

 

4. No needs.

 

5. Don’t try to impress.

 

6. Be cool.

 

7. And be yourself…

 

 

That’s a little smidgen of unsolicited advice if you a bloke and interested in finding a girlfriend.

 

As for one-night stands…I can’t really advise too much about those. I’ve had my fair share of rumpy-pumpy, but I seem to be much more successful at getting women to declare their love for me than to fall into bed with me (well, sometimes both). That possibly is because I’m not a big fan of one-night stands. I’ve had ‘em, err…once or twice… and they are only satisfying to me in one particular way, and then…not very. Sex with a lover is a helluva lot more fulfilling (for me) than a roll in the hay with a sexy stranger or even a vague acquaintance.

 

So I don’t really have much advice for those of you seeing meaningless sexual stimulation – expect – PLEASE be honest. Or spend a lot on alcohol. Or on her.

 

Otherwise, I guess all the confidence and coolness and be yourself advice applies. I love sex – but much much much prefer it as a component of a loving relationship, and thus…I’m no expert it lassoing women back the bedroom for a one-nighter. Sorry boys.

 

But…if you want to know how to make lots of FRIENDS…and have the possibly arise of one something happening with one of those friends…then…I’m your man….

 

My list above is a basic spiel about the way I act – and what works for me in getting closer to – and sometimes attracting – women:

 

And down a little further below is my synopsis of what I believe women look for in a potential mate.

 

Like all animals do.

 

Speaking of which...

 

 

 

Biology 101 (versus Respect 101)

 

 

Remembering that women have a primal need to nurture and men have a primal need to plant seed far and wide, we are hardwired – deep in our biological makeup – to be different creatures.

 

Alas…we are also incredible advanced in our brains, with social structures and mores that often conflict with the needs of biology. Society has built up over time an incredibly complex system of traditions, customs, conventions, rules and regulations designed to sustain the human species at the top of the food chain...a social system which often suppresses those biological urges. As often do our gut feelings about what is right and wrong.

 

There is also the factor that EVERY person is unique and individual, with lots of men the nurturing types and lots of women the seed-spreading (or in their case - leg spreading) types.

 

But basically, as general genders, men and women are VERY, very different, with different needs hard-wired deep in their unconscious.

 

But – one thing that makes me proud (personally) to be human – is that – for a long time we have TRIUMPHED over our biologies.

 

Here are a few of my favourite - perhaps DEFINING - mottos in life:

 

“Happiness is determined by your attitude, NOT by your situation.”

 

“A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.”

 

“A movie is just like a small piece of your life that happens to end at a high point – but with the movie you just never see what happens after.”

 

“A stranger is just a friend who you haven’t met yet.”

 

“Life’s a Beach.”

 

“Shit happens.”

 

But the above mantras are mostly about attitude (how I try to think). The one below I think is the most concise dilution of my behavior (how I try to act):

 

“Treat other people the way you think you should be treated yourself.”

 

Which means…with respect. Like all animals in this world, we are all in conflict, in competition to survive, to win. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work together for mutual benefit, and speak to and treat each other with minimum respect. It costs us nothing. Yet it gives us an enormous amount back.

 

I RESPECT that women are different from me.

 

And I RESPECT women.

 

RESPECT.

 

Let’s hear it from Aretha herself:

 

R         -           E         -           S         -           P         -           E         -           C         -           T

 

Find out (below) what it means to me…

 

I can’t give women want they want – usually. But I can treat them with respect.

 

Current society is a lot like moi.

 

Men often struggle to give women what they want – loyalty, security, faithfulness, stability, commitment.

 

Women often struggle to give men what they want – permission to ejaculate erratically.

 

This conflict is REAL. It exists. It must be acknowledged.

 

The conflict between our animalistic desires and our humanistic instincts. We have to choose…will we act like animals? – selfishly, archaically - or will we act like humans?…will we accept the responsibility that our forbearers have built and thrust upon us – a responsibility to not only acknowledge the conflict between men and women, between our animal and human sides, but also a responsibility to work together for the benefit of the world and future generations, a responsibility – basically - to respect each other?

 

Tough call.

 

It’s a struggle. We simply want different things. Tough call.

 

And yet…in modern society…most of us…meet somewhere in the middle. Decent people – in the enlightened Western world - RESPECT (even on an unconscious) level that the opposite sex is different and do their best to compromise…to meet halfway. Woman let their partners off the leash, a little. Men stay at home and do the dishes a little more often than their instinct demands.

 

Of course…because men have always been physically stronger, and until the last century or two physical strength was more important than intellectual or moral strength in our species’ survival…the pattern still holds (especially in less advanced cultures like the one I’m in now) where women respect and compromise for men much more than vice versa. Like most mammals, for women to satisfy their needs to nurture and reproduce, they have traditionally had to accept that their “partners” would rarely stay faithful to or respectful of them.

 

But…things have changed.

 

With the rise of feudal cultures, the use of the church to control and suppress, and the ultimate formalization of women’s rights - societies have become more balanced. “Keeping the family together” has become the cornerstone of the moral right – and such a thing is obviously impossible with men spreading seed (and their incomes) as randomly as possible. As self-awareness and self-actualization have grown in importance in the human being makeup, women have demanded – and are getting - more and more respect. So…men have gradually suppressed their physical desire to spread their genes across as wide a reproductive spectrum as possible.

 

Things have changed. Society - and most vitally HUMANITY - have overruled (and some would say are reversing) the biological urges.

 

And why not?

 

Just because men HAVE the need to seed doesn’t mean surrendering to it regularly is good for them. Forget basic decency and respect. In the modern world, fathering children randomly is an invitation to chaos and bankruptcy, and the ACT which CAUSES said fathering is an invitation to STD’s (the traditional type of STD’s, NOT the type I’ve defined in this piece above). But ok – factor in now sexual protection and contraception…and STILL surrendering to the need to seed isn’t (in my opinion) a good call. Because you mess with humanity. You mess with decency. You mess with basic respect.

 

For ME….well, I respect my body’s biology, and its basic urges.

 

But I respect humanity – and my duty to show respect for each member of it – a whole lot more.

 

In other, simpler words: I respect respect.

 

I think people should respect each other. And if you are involved in a relationship in which monogamy is important to one party….then…you better respect that party and be monogamous to them…or get outta there right away.

 

Obviously, generally, women have a stronger need for men to be monogamous than men need themselves to be monogamous.

 

But if you enter into a serious committed relationship – ESPECIALLY a marriage – then you are decreeing that basic human respect takes precedence over biology.

 

Millions of men can do this. The ones that can’t are NOT men. They are animals. Animals who succumb to their bodies biologies instead of deferring to any moral strength. They are emotionally and spiritually weak. They don’t show respect and they don’t earn respect. And they slow the progression of humanity a little bit more for the rest of us.

 

It’s natural for men to want to run around and ejaculate erratically. But…it’s wrong when they do this while in a committed relationship. And thus…this is one of the rare situations when “natural” is wrong.

 

Women in Vietnam have put up with this kind of abhorrent and disrespectful behaviour from men for a lot longer than women did in my country. Thus they accept it a lot more readily. THAT’S actually a big reason there are so many sleazy westerners spreading seed and disrespect around South East Asia. Because they can’t get away with it in back in their home countries. But hopefully Asian women won’t put up with it for too much longer. My closest, my strongest female friends here have certainly drawn a line in the sand and said “No”…or are tying to.

 

So…my personal feeling…

 

I understand and respect biology.

 

But…

 

I respect people a whole lot more.

 

Respect is represented by a lot of behaviour. General human decency. Politeness. Open Communication. Honesty. Control.

 

I’m far, far, far from perfect. But I’m always, always, always honest in any relationship. Like I’m being totally honest in this blog. I think that’s worthy of respect in itself. In fact, back to the issue of attracting women, I find that acknowledging and discussing this phenomenon of the differences between men and women can often win brownie points, and they also seem to admire the fact that I’m aware that control needs to be exercised by decent men in successful relationships.

 

I think women - smart (stable) women - appreciate men who appreciate our differences, celebrate our differences and respect our differences. Women like this stuff. Respect. Honesty. Control. And that – with all the other stuff above about confidence, zero expectations, being cool and being oneself…hey…the list above doesn’t need MORE regurgitation. But the list below…maybe does…

 

The inventory below, in ascending numerical order of importance, is what I believe women look for in a potential mate, and how perhaps, each of them relate to me.

 

 

 

Looks or Laughs? Power or Passion?

 

 

1. A Cute Butt

 

Or more generally: looks. Like men, the initial interest and attraction women feel for a partner is almost always based on looks. Women will always site the above glutious maximus feature on their list, but it’s usually below (and not just physically) a few others, like nice eyes, smile or hands.

 

As for me – I’m pretty average in the looks department. And I don’t think anyone has ever called my butt “cute”. Someone called it “sexy” once though…oh, hang on - that was me. So…this factor not so much in my favour.

 

But the issue of a hard body or thick hair is less important than most other areas of attraction for women – and even in the area of appearance – AFTER a woman first meets you, it probably more important that you show that you are healthy, energetic and take good care of yourself as opposed to a narcissistic, flexing mirror-kisser. Regardless of your romantic lifestyle, simply keep as fit and healthy as you can for yourself…and women will find that more appealing than most of the substance-abusing couch potatoes out there.

 

Appearance extends also from simple physique to basic grooming. Unless it’s uncontrollable (like mine) keep your hair neat and trimmed, and not just your head hair. Eliminate ALL types of body odour, especially from the feet, and the mouth. Stuff like this might seem insignificant to he-men, but makes a huge differences to self-respecting babes. Clothing makes a huge difference too – a Gucci wardrobe isn’t essential to attract a nice girl, but tidy CLEAN clothes are. If you’ve got zero style in clothes, ask some friends (preferably female) for fashion consultant advice. Never wear (or buy) anything that just feels wrong on you, but be adventurous, try a few styles, and ultimately, if it’s comfortable, if it works for you, and you get some good feedback – then stick with it.

 

Another issue of appearance that wins outstanding brownie points (or loses them) isn’t even about you. Your house. Always, if you have visitors, try to make sure your place is tidy. Always make the bed. Cook. Keep some cool, fun props around for play and conversation. A physically gorgeous, sartorially perfect guy can lose valuable headway if he brings a girl home to an unmade bed with filthy sheets and pizza boxes strewn about. A neat and tidy house, neat and tidy clothes, and a neat and tidy body are a good indication of the self-respect and strength and control of the guy.

 

Ultimately however, appearances CAN be deceiving, and thus this is why this number (“A Cute Butt”) is number one on the list.

 

Like I say, my butt is only sexy to those who’ve see it naked – and that ain’t many! My hair is often messy and my clothes often rumpled. My house is tidier than most, but overall, my appearance is nothing special. And I still do ok. More than ok.

 

 

2. Money or Power

 

Like physical attraction and their innate urge to nurture, this one is hardwired deep into a woman’s psyche. She may INSIST she’s not attracted to rich, powerful men…but…unconsciously, she probably is. Rich, successful dudes give women a feeling that (if partnered) the guy can support the girl and their family very successfully. No matter HOW strong and independent a woman is, generally she will feel a stronger attraction for a man she feels can look after her, more than vice versa. It’s biology winning over feminism, but trust me, it’s valid.

 

As for me - well, until I get to know someone really well, I always tend to downplay how much money I have and money I make. There’s a trust element here, but especially…I really want lovers (or even friends) to like ME for ME. Not for money. Once we get to a point where I know they’d love me if I was a beggar, well maybe then I’d make them a millionaire.

 

As for power, I’m not a big fan of power. I’m certainly more in touch with my feminine side than most guys, and if there’s one area of that which is stronger than another – it’s in my desire to share and nurture and support more than dominate and dictate and control. I’m a softy. Women must be able to see this side of my character isn’t that masculine…but most don’t care. I guess they balance the good with the bad.

 

So…recap - numbers 1 and 2. Looks and Money and Power. Important, sure. But in my case – ain’t really big selling points. They are also – for most guys – totally out of your immediate control – you ain’t gonna turn into Brad Pitt or Bill Gates overnight, right?

 

Luckily, this list is in ascending order of importance.

 

And – fortunately – I believe women that when women are attracted to guys, what matter is less the external trappings of the guys - like looks, power, or money.

 

Sure toned muscles and a bulging wallet (or even bulging muscles and a toned wallet) don’t go astray.

 

But women – unlike men – focus less on what they SEE.

 

And more on what they FEEL.

 

Attraction for a women is based on her internal feelings.

 

How a guy makes her FEEL.

 

Looks and wealth are a small part of that.

 

But…the feelings a guy gives a girl…are MUCH more tied into the elements below.

 

And unlike looks and wealth – these ones ARE in our immediate control.

 

Luckily for us…

 

 

3. Ambition

 

While I fully believe that women are attracted to money and power, I believe – from observation and experience - that those of us without either money or power or both – still have a huge selling point within the same ballpark:

 

Ambition.

 

For the best women, for the nicest, most sensitive, most perceptive women, it doesn’t matter if you are penny-less, pence-less or dong-less, (dong as currency not anatomy item). It doesn’t matter if you’ve NEVER been promoted above junior-private-low-grade-subordinate-dishwasher.

 

What matters is ambition.

 

This obviously – like confidence and strength – relates to the amount of self-respect you have for yourself.

 

But…in relation to what a woman perceives…you can be the poorest, low-grade worker out there. But if you can show her that you have dreams, drives, plans, passion…not even to make money…just to achieve something valid, just to contribute in some way to society, to build a family…anything productive and decent…

 

That makes a hell of a difference.

 

Money and power are attractive, sure. But ambition is EXCITING. Interesting.

 

In a similar way to the money and power thing – if women can sense a deep passion for achievement and success in you – then they will (perhaps unconsciously) see a future security and stability with you…and see a guy that won’t spend his life on the couch with the TV remote in hand. Then, maybe, they’ll hitch their wagon to your star.

 

Ambition and me? Well…I’ve always played my ambitions pretty close to my chest. Whether based on skill, talent, or simply luck, my successes in life have been many, and perhaps some of the women I’ve know have been attracted to those. Most I guess – if attracted to anything – prefer me as a guy that is always busy at work and study to a guy always busy with beer and brothels. But…deep ambitions…this one for me – like the issue of money – is a Catch 22. My most personal ambitions remain private until I become very close to a woman. Then…like the money…everything – including the ultimate achievement and success, is shared.

 

 

4. Humour

 

Women LOVE to laugh. And thus, by extension…they love funny men.

 

It’s as simple as that.

 

Really.

 

Laughter – most of the time – isn’t about a funny, direct, stand-up joke. It’s about sharing.

 

Laughter does four things. It feels fantastic. It means the person laughing is comfortable in your company. It means they like you. It means they are trying to get you to like them.

 

We laugh at people we like. We laugh to get people to like us. It’s pretty simple.

 

Thus…to get a woman laughing a lot…and she’s yours…

 

As for me…well, I ain’t that funny. But after decades of watching sitcoms and having had the good fortune of being best friends with maybe the two wittiest men in history, I’ve developed a dry little patter of my own. I can’t do funny voices to save my life, and I can’t remember a single joke – but that’s ok. Jokes are often forced and uncomfortable. When you are around a women you like, especially a new friend, the best humor comes out of character and situation – observations on what you are doing, talking about, watching. Make fun of her, yourself, your location, your friends, her friends. Get her laughing and she’s yours. I’m not really that funny, like I said, but I can bounce of other funny people very well, in a sardonic, straight man way. So…I love funny girls. She makes me laugh, I make her laugh. But that’s me. Everyone has got a line in humor that works for them. If you are like Jim Carrey, go for OTT slapstick. If you are like Mike Myers, try the funny voices and obvious sexual innuendo. Will Ferrell – ridiculous wordplay. I’m more like Woody Allen or Jerry Seinfeld – a nice little sardonic patter of self-deprecating observational stuff. Use whatever works for you. If you aren’t funny…that’s ok. But if you’ve ever shared a joke and a laugh with a friend, then you probably ARE funny. Just take that relaxed, confident feeling you’ve shared with your friends and transfer it to your date…and the humor should flow naturally. Relax. Say stupid things. It’s funny. Laughter makes the world go round. Or it should.

 

NB: You might ask how can say I’m self-deprecating on one hand, and confident on the other. Isn’t that a contradiction? Not really. Because – if the confidence is strong, real, natural…it’s believable. People can see you believe in yourself. They KNOW that the self-deprecating humour – the negative jokes you make about yourself – are simply that – just JOKES – and that even if the jokes are based in reality (as the best jokes always are) then anything negative you are willing to admit about yourself is actually a GOOD thing, because it doesn’t threaten or overwhelm your general confidence, masculinity and strength. And strength is something you don’t want to overwhelm. Like my t-shirt says: TRUST ME.

 

 

 

A Man of Steel

 

 

5. Strength

 

This category is not the same as category #2. Money and Power are often things men – and women – obtain through the use of strength – but they are the ends – and strength is the means. Money/Power is a goal, and strength is a resource. In this way, strength is a little like ambition but they are more like partners than twins, because obviously success is not possible without some of each.

 

And when I say strength, I don’t mean physical strength.

 

Vietnam is, in many ways, a very backward country. But you look deeper and you can see understand why it hasn’t been consumed by a lot of the trappings of western society. Example:

 

I’m tall. I’m big. I’m not especially strong physically, compared to big, tall guys my size, but certainly, compared to most Vietnamese guys, I’m probably a little bit stronger. Even if I’m NOT stronger – I’m perceived (because of my size) as stronger. And a lot of people (especially among the older generation) think that high physical strength is a good thing. I’m constantly asked if I’m married here, and when I answer “no”, the response is always “Why not? You are handsome and tall and strong. You have a job! You are over 30. You should be married!” I don’t want to digress in this article about the stupidity of this statement – the assumption that you WOULD get married just because you CAN really really RANKLES me every day here – but that’s for another time. My point here is that physical strength is seen (by at least some Vietnamese) as an attractive, important feature in a partner. Then, I remember...I’m in a different country. A completely different culture and history. And a history which meant – until recently – physical strength was a HUGE factor in keeping a family alive. Alternatively, Western women have (for much of the past century) looked for intellectual or emotional strength in their partners – because, in the West, brain power and moral virtue equal earning potential and family stability. And in FACT, often nowadays in the West a women will be turned OFF by a macho muscle-bound jock because they equate (rightly or wrongly) high muscle mass in an inverse proportion to brain clout and communication ability.

 

But…Vietnam hasn’t changed as quickly as the West. Women here, especially older, poorer, or traditional women, think that a physically strong guy is much more impressive than a guy with average or little muscle strength. It’s ridiculous, I know…but it certainly doesn’t affect me negatively. I have experienced undue favoritism because of my (perceived) physical strength here.

 

Thankfully…younger, more educated women here are catching up to the rest of the world and starting to realize than in the modern society, the most important strength comes the mind and the spirit, and not from the muscles

 

But wherever it comes from, they STILL want strength.

 

The truth is – for better or worse – as much as THEY love to feel independent and strong – women also need to feel protected. This is connected to the innate biology hard-wired into their systems. It’s why they LOVE to be held in a protective way even more than they love sex. They WANT to feel they have someone who will always look after them, always supports them, always be there. Sure – especially early in a relationship – they constantly love the push-and-pull games of I-don’t-need-you-or-maybe-I want-you-but-don’t-EVER-think-I-need-you…all the standard tests. But if you pass the tests…and with the right girl…well…you’ll see. It’s an unconscious thing for most of them. But…they need your strength.

 

What type of strength?

 

Mental. Moral. Spiritual.

 

But those are pretty vague.

 

Try this:

 

Strength to stand by them. Strength to do the right thing. Strength to KNOW what the right thing is and not screw up by not doing it. Strength not to run when the going gets tough. Strength to be patient with them. Strength to communicate with them. Strength to always be honest. Strength to respect the relationship you’ve created together over certain biological urges. Strength to give. Strength to communicate what YOU need. Strength to stand up for yourself and not be walked over. Strength to expect respect from them, and to walk away (or demand it) if you don’t get it. Strength to put in the tough times

 

Strength to know the right thing to do. And to do it.

 

Strength to be a man.

 

It’s a helluva lot tougher than physical strength.

 

Trust me.

 

It’s tough – especially with a new friend or date – to communicate or show your inner strength. Advertising strength to a girl comes across as weak self-promotion, a desire to impress that falls flat. If you ARE a strong person, then good friends, long–term friends, will begin to see and to understand your strength over time. But early on in dating or a friendship – how can a girl understand you are strong? There’s only one way. By NOT showing her the opposite. Do you get that double-negative? Basically it means: The only way you should show a girl you are strong is by showing her you are not weak. And the only way NOT to act weak is to…NOT ACT WEAK.

 

I WOULD say “don’t BE weak”. But that’s patently impossible, for most men.

 

Men are notorious cry-babies. This is often represented in a loss of temper and aggressive anger…which is a terrible sign of weakness. Never lose it. Never get upset over little things. This is good advice for life, too. But specificially in this dating context. Don’t ever get (or show you are) upset with anything a girl says or does, especially early on. It’s a terrible sign for the future. Never act petulant or sulky about unreturned messages or calls. Acting upset or angry is NOT cool. It is not control. It is very needy and very weak.

 

Don’t be weak.

 

Be strong.

 

I’m not saying you should be pushy, or aggressive. Just be in control. Women love a man in control…a man in control of the date, of a situation, of a problem, of his life. It doesn’t mean controlling her. It means creating an atmosphere where she feels safe and comfortable. Strong women make decisions all the time. They love it when a guy actually makes the decisions for them both – or at least shares the decision making with her – doesn’t defer weakly to her preferences every time. Another thing to remember with women – especially strong women – is to keep advancing. It’s not about chasing. Just about being there. And moving forward when she moves backwards. Stay persistent. It’s like a dance. Push and pull. Stay in control, and stay strong. Be cool and confident and cocky enough to keep her guessing. But strong and assertive enough for her to feel comfortable.

 

It’s a very difficult balance. I’d hate for a woman to ever think I was controlling her, thinking for her. But – if I’m interested in someone, involved with someone – I always want her to feel like she can rely on me, be safe with me.

 

Control and strength are very attractive to women.

 

Girls – whether consciously or unconsciously – whether right or wrong – want to feel that they need a guy to be strong for them.

 

Early on in dating, especially, the LAST thing that they want – whether consciously or unconsciously – whether right or wrong – is to feel needed by the guy.

 

When a guy comes across as needy…girls run.

 

When girls perceive a guy as...wanting, needing, chasing…it freaks them out…scares them….and they run.

 

When a guy comes across as needy…the girl instantly clicks…not strong.

 

He needs me.

 

He’s not strong enough on his own.

 

He’s not emotionally independent enough to take care of himself.

 

He’s not a real man.

 

He’s weak.

 

He’s not strong.

 

And thus…she runs.

 

Whether any of this logic makes sense - shouldn’t matter. Because it’s true.

 

Men are men. Sometimes we are weak, sometimes strong. Sometimes we can take care of ourselves, but mostly we’d prefer not to. Women know this. But it doesn’t matter what women KNOW. IT matters what they FEEL. And if they feel that a guy they haven’t known long is too weak or needy…they are gone.

 

So be strong.

 

Even if you don’t FEEL strong, act strong.

 

The outside can convince the inside. Trust me, it works. Be strong.

 

As for me…strong?

 

Not for me to judge.

 

But I’ve had my moments.

 

In general, I’ve had a blessed life. I’ve been spoilt with love and riches. But that’s not always a good thing. Spoilt, blessed lives do not make for strong people. So…maybe not. But…there have been times…not so blessed. Two times in particular…when I entered a black hole from which I thought I’d never return. And in each of those times…I dragged myself out of said holes with a LOT of help from my friends, but out also by mustering a phenomenal emotional and spiritual strength which I had absolutely no concept of possessing beforehand.

 

With the most recent occurrence, a few years back, after a severe emotional collapse, I pulled myself up damn quickly with incredible strength simply because I wasn’t the person needing my strength - someone else I loved was. I think that’s the best way to be strong – for someone else. Not for yourself. Anyway – for a year or two, I was incredibly strong for my family. On the surface. For all intents and purposes – for all to see – I was Superman. I even denied to myself how much pain and grief I was feeling inside, simply so I could continue being productive and helpful for my Mum. I was strong. My family and friends were amazed. Full of admiration and wonder for how I continued to do what I did.

Well…forget about my inner state. Suffice to say, on the surface – super strong.

 

And…that was really the start of the age of Wonkaville. The Age of the Downpour. The age of women throwing themselves at me.

 

Women perceived me as super-strong, super-supportive, cable of dealing with anything that came my way.

 

And – I was amazed at how they responded to that. Downpour. Candy store.

 

Back home, when I was strong, I dated a few of these girls, but only one seriously, regularly. She was patently attracted to the strength she saw in me – leading my family through some tough times, always making the right decisions, always being strong. After…after…after I DIDN’T need to be strong for the loved one anymore, after my phenomenal strength wasn’t needed…I collapsed in a heap. I was TIRED from being strong. The grief and pain and weakness all rose up from my heart and consumed me – not in a life-changing way – just on a few occasions when I needed to let that grief out. Mostly, I was still feeling – and acting - reasonably strong. But…there were two or three tidal waves of weakness.

 

And you know what?  The girl I was dating casually at the time... The one that had LOVED the strength she’d seen in me for months before? Well…she…ran away.

 

I had a few brief but intense bouts of neediness…and it scared her.

 

She was a fairly wounded soul herself (deep down) and she wanted, she needed strength.

 

And at the first hint of weakness and neediness in me, she fled.

 

That was fine – by then I think we’d decided we were suitable as just friends anyway – and even if not - I didn’t want a serious partner who couldn’t muster up an ounce of sympathy for my sad situation.

 

But I tell this story to represent my point about strength.

 

Women want to feel you can be strong for them – and for themselves.

 

Women who stay the course – great women, nice women, the best women – will of course accept occasional bouts of weakness and neediness from you. They will even welcome them – your openness and communication and honesty.

 

But – early on – if you want to get to know a woman well – and give her the eventual chance to know you…strength all the way baby.

 

Forget the - “l love a man who can cry” - bullshit.

 

It’s Superman all the way.

 

 

 

Careless Mister

 

 

5. Confidence

 

Again, confidence is related to strength and often humor. But especially early in a meeting or relationship, it’s at least as important.

 

It’s not just about being strong enough to do the right thing.

 

It’s being cool about doing ANYTHING.

 

Anything and everything you SAY, DO or even THINK – in the words of Chilli Palmer “Be Cool”.

 

Act like you know you are right, you know you are cool.

 

This is really tough advice to give, because…well, I’ve never faked confidence.

 

I faked strength sure, and that fakery, like many things, worked from the outside in.

 

But I’ve never faked confidence.

 

If I knew then what I know now…well, that’s a great sentiment.

 

If I knew in my teens and twenties what I know now, I would have faked confidence more, maybe. Maybe my life would have been very different then.

 

But I’ve never been much of a faker.

 

But I faked strength when it was necessary – and it worked.

 

I’ve never faked confidence – but I’m advocating it here. How? Why?

 

Let me get one thing straight. I despise dishonesty. I HATE it. Before Vietnam, I experienced it a few times, and was burned – mildly – once or twice by it. Now I live in a country where people seem born to lie. It’s not really a malicious (or even conscious) thing for them, but lying (especially about and within relationships) is so inbred into these people that it’s a very rare Vietnamese who doesn’t ever lie. I’ve come to accept that, but I’m still not crazy about it. I HATE lying. I HATE dishonesty.

 

So how does THAT correlate with the fakery of confidence and strength that I’m advocating?

 

But faking in this case…I don’t consider dishonesty…because I’m not lying to anyone else…and only lying to MYSELF – in an attempt at self-improvement - to change the outside from the inside out.

 

Try it.

 

If you are low, force yourself to smile. Force yourself to laugh. You’ll feel a little better. Outside action can often affect inner emotions. Usually it works the other way around, but sometimes…your actions, your actING can affect your inner feelings.

 

Trust me. It works.

 

If you feel like crap, and someone asks you how you are, don’t wallow in self-pity. Say, “I’m great!” like you mean it. Focus on the good stuff, and you’ll talk yourself outta your funk. Trust me.

 

Girls love happy guys. Not the Forrest-Gump-Dumb-and-Dumber-drooling-on-themselves type of happy…I mean the confident-controlled-positive type of happy.

 

An enthusiastic, optimistic guy with a PASSION for life – for living to the max – is going to be much more attractive to a girl than a narrow-minded, complaining, grumpy couch potato.

 

I am a pretty laidback, relaxed guy. I love my sleep, and can even be lazy from time to time. But generally, especially around my friends, in my own way, I am an incredibly enthusiastic, fun, positive, optimistic, happy person. I rarely, rarely, rarely talk negatively to myself. Always positive. Well, I don’t really need to talk positive to myself, I simply FEEL positive. But…I’ve known a few people who are so negative about themselves - or about certain aspects of their lives like attracting women - that they constantly walk around with a self-defeating cloud of negative speak in their hearts and minds. They never talk themselves outta it. But they gotta try.

 

I’ve never actually tried to improve my self-esteem, my confidence. I’m lucky, it’s just been there, natural for me. I’ve never faked it with women. But…a few times – job interviews or uncomfortable meetings or sad stuff…I’ve faked it, yeah. And I just talk myself into it. Even if I am FEELING the furtherest thing from cool in the world – I talk myself into it. I just I envisage the guy I want to be and the reaction I want to get. I envisage total success. And I usually get it.

 

Specifically though back to success with women. Like I keep saying, I personally never faked confidence there. But my carelessness translated as confidence anyway, and my confidence shone through anyway.

 

And you know when it shone through the most?

 

The times in my life when I appeared the most confident?

 

Whenever I was seeing someone. Whenever I was getting laid, or at least being intimate with someone.

 

It’s another in my favoured “Isn’t it Ironic?” series…

 

If I’m seriously dating someone great or having regular (good) sex with someone great, this obviously makes me feel pretty good, which somehow unconsciously translates into a display of even MORE confidence – which is even more attractive to OTHER women…other women who you ironically don’t want (or at least NEED) to attract because you already getting some.

 

Please be aware that the above example of sexual proclivity for me has been extremely rare for the last few years. In fact, I was quite fond of calling myself the “Vietnam Virgin” for quite a while. And also be aware that the downpour was STILL happening when I WAS that born-again Virgin…and born-again, and born-again. I’m no Casanova. I’ve had a little fun lately, but – unless I think/hope it’s going to be a precursor for a long-term thing, I’ve very cautious about physical intimacy. Thus…I’ve really been pretty damn celibate the past few years. And the candy store is STILL open. And it’s STILL raining women.

 

Yet on the odd occasions when I’m getting laid…I seem to be MORE attractive to other women. It’s ironic…when you’ve got it…you don’t really need to attract it…but it comes.

 

When you aren’t getting it…well, it’s been different for me. It’s STILL been raining for me. But…when YOU aren’t getting it…another way to fake it is simply by envisaging sexual success, remembering it, predicting it.. It’s not deluding yourself. It’s simply positive thinking.

 

Try it. Try it all. Positive thinking. Positive thinking about your sex life, but ESPECIALLY about yourself in general…will translate into confidence.

 

Fake it. You’ll make it.

 

It’s true.

 

It worked for me with strength. It can work for you with confidence.

 

How?

 

How can you SHOW positive thinking?

 

Well, I’ve never have to know how to fake confidence, but – on reflection – I know how I feel when I am confident, and I guess that’s reflected in the following behavior:

 

Relaxed, laidback, chilled out. Walk tall. Sit back. Speak slowly, deeply. Move smoothly.

 

93% of all communication is body language, and tone of voice. In other words, it’s not WHAT you say, but how you say it. Keep eye contact – without staring. Don’t be the first to look away. Squint a little. Wry smile it, without the goofy giggle.

 

Be RELAXED.

 

Be NATURAL.

 

Be COOL.

 

Reflect a woman’s own confidence back at her.

 

I think I’m unconsciously a little bit of a chameleon – not just in my dealings with women, but with all. Again, it’s not a fakery thing – I adjust my behaviour to each situation, but that behaviour just shows different sides of my personality. So…each time I meet someone new, perhaps I’m a different dude.

 

If a woman is really shy and demure, well…two things (1) I believe she’s not destined to be more than a casual friend, and (2) I don’t overdo the confidence thing cause it might freak her out. I sorta emphasise the humble and sweet side of myself.

 

But, the more confident a woman is, the more I return that confidence back to her. If she’s confident and arrogant…I let her have it. Generally the hottest, most attractive women are the most confident and arrogant…they are used to drooling, needy, puppy-dog guys, so they respond well when a guys acts MORE confident and careless than them.

 

Even though I don’t understand women, I understand this point, and a slightly superior smirk when I chat to an obviously over-confident, perhaps vain (cha?nh) woman really bugs them…and gets their interest. You basically act in way that shows them that (a) you’ve been around hot women before and that in itself doesn’t impress them and (b) you’ve got their number already – and I’m not talking about their phone number  - I mean you make them THINK they you understand their inner psyche better than the other lost losers flailing around. ANYTHING different will intrigue, and attract them.

 

Gorgeous women have a double-edged sword type of thing going on in their relationship with their own beauty. They love the attention it gets them. But they know (unless they are movie stars or supermodels) that this attention is shallow and ultimately baseless, and prevents (or really delays) people from connecting with the real person beneath that beauty. If you can look past the obvious physical beauty of these women (or at least fake that in your behavior) then they will not only be intrigued by actions unlike those of most other men, but also be truly impressed that you seem to be on a quicker route to the real person within.

 

Really hot girls have got what they’ve wanted there entire lives…thus their realities are a little skewed compared to the rest of us mortals. But in fact…I think…most of them…consciously or unconsciously…are begging to be brought back down to earth.

 

You can do this with confidence. With cockiness. By showing them you ain’t that impressed.

 

Of course…I’m damn nice and ALWAYS honest to them – but I’m ALSO teasing and cheeky and cocky and make fun of them. They love it.

 

However...

 

There’s a fine, fine line between confidence and arrogance.

 

Confidence is believing in yourself, and not being bothered if others don’t.

 

Arrogance is thinking you are better than others.

 

Confidence is cool.

 

Arrogance isn’t.

 

Some commentators and advisors (and friends!) on dating actually suggest that arrogance is a GOOD thing – as if infuriating a girl is a great way to get her interest. And sure, maybe that works for some. But…I ain’t a huge fan of it. I find it tough to combine arrogance with respect. I’ve seen it work for some guys, but usually not for long, and usually only with girls with low self-respect.

 

Unless you are a truly arrogant guy (and if you are, you wouldn’t be reading this!), I wouldn’t suggest playing the arrogance card with girls - it’s a stupid game in a tournament fraught with stupid game-playing.

 

BUT, in between confidence and arrogance is cockiness.

 

Now, I LIKE cockiness.

 

It’s like confidence with a huge dash of cheeky humour thrown in. If you add a lot of humour to the confidence, it shows that you are winking at yourself, don’t take yourself too seriously…

 

Cockiness is cool.

 

But – for me – it’s really only something I display naturally when I’ve become friends with someone, NOT when I’m becoming friends. I’ve just got there by being cool.

 

Simple confidence.

 

But…combine confidence and cockiness if you want.

 

Combine arrogance with something too, if you want…but PLEASE combine it with self-mocking humour if you do.

 

Whatever you do, do what works for you.

 

Play to your strengths.

 

That naturally increases confidence.

 

But I’m confident anyway.

 

I’m always polite and attentive with a girl, but rarely do I drool salvia and run around her feet like a puppy dog. I sit back. I listen. I talk slowly. I joke. I laugh. I get to know her. Unless I barely speak her language, I don’t simply ask her for her CV. I talk about something that’s interesting – or funny - to me. If she’s cool, this is usually something interesting or funny to her. I never think about what she wants me to say. I just…talk…I share…I communicate. I’m interested in all people. Within a few minutes of an initial interaction, I can usually tell if that person is going to interest me on an ongoing basis, that is…challenge me. Illuminate me. Inspire me. Educate me. Enlighten me.

 

Those become the most special people to me.

 

But…I want to know them. Women or men. Girls or boys. But – okay, specifically girls. If I’m talking to a girl, I’m radiating confidence usually. Why?

 

I care about the girl.

 

I just don’t care about shagging her that night. Dating her that year. Marrying her that decade.

 

This removes anyway pressure from the interaction. Any neediness from my behavior.

 

It displays confidence.

 

It makes her comfortable, relaxed. It increases the chance of friendship.

 

Friendship increases the chances of more.

 

It’s a tough one to fake – I assume.

 

I explained in “Love Actually” the prequel to this article, that until recently - I didn’t feel a smidgeon of a heart-tug for a woman in years.

 

I didn’t - until recently – think of any woman as a “target” the way most men do.

 

Because my heart wasn’t ready, wasn’t open, and because my sprit was so cautious, I didn’t…care…I was the furtherest thing from desperate you could imagine.

 

I still liked contact with people, meeting people, especially girls, and I was…trying…

 

But really…I didn’t care were it led.

 

I simply didn’t care.

 

If I can give you any hint of advice on how to fake confidence, that’s it:

 

Just don’t care.

 

It works.

 

 

 

Same Same for Genders, But Different for Culture

 

 

I believe that the last, maybe most important factor women find attractive in a guy is individuality. But before I get into that one – I just gotta concede a few of points.

 

Firstly, ALL this stuff is based on my experience, and thus, simply, my opinion.

 

Secondly, I should acknowledge that this advice is primarily intended for guys - for boys, for so-called “men” – but that’s only because it’s based of my own successes and suppositions about how those successes have eventuated. As for women looking to attract guys…well…you’ll notice a common theme throughout this post is the vast differences between the genders…HOWEVER…based on years and years of giving advice to FEMALE friends about their romantic situations (or at least listening to them)…I am sure that lots of this advice is valid for them too – especially the stuff about being yourself, being confident, being funny, being respectful and being cool. Especially the stuff about NOT being needy and insecure and desperate.

 

So if you’re a girl, reading this stuff, and wondering about attraction and how to wield it, work it…I guess you can reverse the gender thing and it all still holds pretty valid.

 

Except for a few chapters. Firstly – if you are a woman then the cute butt part can actually be amped up to the max – because the attraction guys feel for girls is MUCH more physically based than vice versa. Also the stuff above on money, power, ambition and strength…to ME…all very attractive stuff in a woman. But MOST men’s masculinity is threatened and they are turned off by that stuff, so if you are a super strong and successful chickybabe (AND you want to attract more guys) then amp that stuff DOWN.

 

Thus, only real differences in my advice session for girls: Cute butt – amp UP. Success and strength: amp DOWN.

 

But otherwise, all holds consistent, same same across both genders. Remember, NEVER EVER fake who you are…and always be yourself. That the most important advice I could give, to either gender. So…if a GUY taking this advice wants to attract a GIRL (who is also taking this advice who wants to attract HIM)…how can they possibly get anywhere? Won’t opposite sex adherence to the anti-neediness, over-confident, too-cool-for-school mantra cancel each other out and implode the space-time continuum and destroy the universe as we know it?

 

Maybe.

 

But not necessarily.

 

Because it’s all about balance. Life – good life – is balance. We dance around life until we find that balance. And we dance around potential partners till we find it too.

 

So…get down and boogie…

 

And good luck.

 

My final point is not about gender similarities, and more about cultural differences. Even though I believe these rules are generally applicable across all cultures and nations, they DO – to a certain extent – apply differently in Vietnam – or have for me at least.

 

Thus…the mystery of women is EVEN MORE indecipherable over here. Basically the Vietnamese girls I encounter run such a HUGE gamut in areas like education, wealth and self-respect, that a lot of the assumptions I’m making here about what women want in a man cannot be taken for granted. It can take lot longer to work that stuff out.

 

The above theories/advice/suggestions are written from my perspective about making friends and attracting women. Because I have a significant dosage of self-respect and self-esteem, I prefer friends – or more-than-friends – to have the same. So basically, my reflections above are my connections with women and what I’ve found they find attractive in a guy, and my postulations of some general advice about working those angles…and these reflections and postulations presuppose one important thing about the connection/relationship.

 

And that important thing is that both parties have self-respect.

 

Obviously there are a lot of damaged souls in Western society, but most people that bisected my path in Australia, North America or Europe, carried themselves with at least a decent amount of self-respect. They respected themselves, and thus for any relationship to be successful, they required or demanded an equivalent amount of respect from their partners.

 

It doesn’t always work that way here, as much anyway.

 

Most, if not all, of my close female friends here have a healthy self-respect for themselves, and most are trying their best to demand a reflection of this respect from any partner they might seek/have. That’s one reason WHY they are close friends – I respect so much the WAY they don’t roll over like so many of their countrywomen.

 

This tirade doesn’t belong in this piece, and I’ll extemporize on it later in my Saigon epic. But in summary, what I’m saying is:

 

(1) LOTS of girls in Vietnam, in Saigon, are exceptionally independent and don’t stand for being treated with sexism or disrespect. This group is presumably – and hopefully – growing – and is made up of the young, the (relatively) rich, the strong, the open-minded, the (relatively) educated, the citified, the socially and globally aware.

 

(2) BUT…there are lots of women who don’t fall into this group. Older women. Traditional girls. Poorer (or middle class) females. Those from the countryside. Uneducated. Less aware. Less open-minded. Less fortunate.

 

(3) Lot of creepy, scumbag, bottom-feeder Western guys are benefiting from Group # 2 above, and taking advantage of them, treating them in ways they wouldn’t stand a chance of doing towards women in the West.

 

But they only have HAD the opportunity to do so because this unfortunate group of women has been created in Asian society (and perpetrated a lot longer than those similar pitiable groups which once existed in the West) because…

 

(4) Eastern men have been doing the same thing – mistreating and taking advantage of these downtrodden women for centuries. Western guys SHOULD know better, but these Asian dudes don’t know (or pretend they don’t know) any differently – it’s just life here.

 

In Saigon, thankfully, I’m much less exposed to it, aware of it, because now I’ve sorta structured my life to generally meet strong, professional, educated, self-respecting people. But I still see it every day here, and it saddens me. In Vung Tau, it was much, much worse. It was very depressing.

 

Women without self-respect. Actually not even that – just women resigned to the fact that they would be treated like chattel, like property, like slaves, like servants.

 

Older, traditional women just following the examples of their sisters and mothers.

 

Or women my age, or younger, putting up with husbands having blatant affairs, or with domestic violence.

 

Or women ten years younger than me – but feeling an incredible pressure from tradition and society to marry, and thus sacrifice their self-respect and also perhaps innate biological standards for a mate.

 

Or women twenty years younger than me, working as bar-girls or hookers or simply as “hired-girlfriends” because it was what their family demanded, or because they saw themselves as having little choice if they wanted to eat, to live, to survive.

 

Thus…there’s a huge spectrum of women here.

 

At one end - women – my closest friends – whom I admire enormously for having the courage to be independent and self-respecting and to demand respect back.

 

THESE women generally follow the Western standards in what they look for initially in a potential Mr. Right - the standards that I’m discussing about in this section – a cute butt and money are great, but ambition is better, and strength better than that, and humor and confidence and individuality can seal the deal.

 

But at the OTHER end of the spectrum here are those women with zero self-respect (or at least self-gender-respect) – those women willing to follow tradition and sacrifice their self-respect, or willing to sell their bodies and their souls and celibacy and their single status and their futures…all the while losing self-respect.

 

I REALLY must reiterate that 99% of Vietnamese women I know DON’T fall into either Group #1 (enlightened and self-respecting) or Group #2 (pitiable and self-disrespecting). Those are just easily categorized stereotypes. Because 99% of the women I know here fall somewhere in between. But certainly you can tell towards which end of the spectrum these women are crawling (or sliding).

 

Even some relationships in this middle of this spectrum, relationships with seeming equality - have little. During courting, traditional women cannot be seen to PAY for anything in the presence of a man, or even ride a motorcycle with their boyfriend sitting behind her. Both of these aberrations – in the continually paranoid, always-worried-about-what-people-think world of “face” in Vietnam, are seen as an affront to a woman’s honor – when what they are REALLY about is control – allowing the man to (at least be SEEN) to control everything, including the woman. Once again, the woman must be seen as property to be bought, owned and controlled by the man. And even if a lot of this is false – as much about “face” as reality – it still tilts things unbearably, ridiculously in favour of men. Women are simply not allowed to be seen as in equal control of a relationship, their choices, their destiny. It’s depressing.

 

Then there are the women for whom control of their life is not even option. And of course the ones struggling for the right to live their lives as freely as those Western women they meet. And they ALL – all of these groups, have different priorities in a mate.

 

The most important attractive feature in men perhaps to Western (or enlightened) woman is individuality – but this is not just: men being themselves, it means: men having the COURAGE to be themselves. (Individuality will be discussed below after my little cross-cultural spiel here.)

 

For my latter group of pitiful, unenlightened women…individuality in a potential mate barely rates a mention. SO many beautiful girls have come onto me here – and it means nothing to me or my ego – because they’ve come onto dozens of guys before me and will come to dozens of guys after me. They see any decent looking guy (especially Western) as an escape route. They don’t see me as an individual. They don’t care if I’m different.

 

Thus – individuality (perhaps the highest factor on Western girls list) doesn’t matter at all.

 

Confidence as well…sure girls in my Group #2 above like that, especially if it’s tied to strength, and thus maybe tied to money-earning potential. But confidence in itself – and humour, and ambition…all just…nice bonuses, if they can get them.

 

In fact, I’ll write my list above now, changing the order into ascending order for this sub group of traditional, gender-bashed Vietnamese women:

 

(1)     Individuality – who cares?

(2)     Confidence – not bad if you can get it, but barely necessary.

(3)     Humour – as above

(4)     Cute Butt – actually this one is surprisingly unimportant. For those of us that have winced at the nauseating sight of Grandpa Crusty squiring a hot Vietnamese hooker around town…it’s apparent she ain’t with him because of his looks. And – in a WAY – the self-disrespecting chicks of Group #2 over here PREFER a constant relationship with a grotesque sugar-daddy to a handsome young stud – because with the former the supply of sugar will tend to be more constant. The young stud will probably cheat on her or shoot-through with another girl at any second, but it’s less likely with the old desperado. So…”Ugly, Saggy Butt” is sometimes a better requirement here than “Cute Butt”.

(5)     Strength – if it’s related to money, nice. If it’s traditional male “strength” of superiority over women – sure, that’s ok to – if related to money.

(6)     Ambition – if it’s related to potential money-earning, fine.

(7)     Money.

 

Money. Makes the world go around. I’ve never lived in a culture before were so much could be bought, so easily, so obviously. Sex. Kitchen duties. Self-respect.

 

Not RESPECT. True respect itself can NEVER be bought, it must be earned. But when people allow themselves – not their normally working services – but their very spirit and independence – to be bought…well there goes the self respect. Funny thing too, happens here. The more often a man BUYS a girl – and I’m not just talking about prostitution, but especially about an ongoing relationship where he supports her in return for…well basically in return for sexual and domestic favours…the more often or the longer a man buys these favours…the quicker the decline in his own self-respect too.

 

So – again…isn’t it ironic? Someone buys another’s self-respect, but both parties end up with less. Ironic and sad.

 

Sometimes such a transaction – straight prostitution – is blatant and honest. Sometimes it is poorly-cloaked in ridiculous tradition – a young girl will be encouraged to marry the most financially secure man on offer by her parents’ connections. It’s really exactly the same thing. A woman is sold to a man. She is expected to comply with his every wish. She loses her self-respect, her freedom, her life…

 

Basically, for many girls, many people – money is their only escape. But – irony again - to get that money they end up even more trapped. To get that money they have to sacrifice their dreams to do it.

 

And – they have to sacrifice the things that they really DO find attractive in a potential mate, and would LOVE to pursue if they had the good fortune of their Western sisters and even more enlightened countrywomen. If they gain a smidgeon of self-respect and self-awareness back…well they will probably admit that they would love a guy with a cute butt and some dosh…but one with ambition even more…and love even more one with humor, strength, confidence, and of course…the last one on my list…

 

 

6. Individuality

 

In other words, my mantra:

 

Be Yourself.

 

 

 

To Be Or Not To Be

 

 

If you want a one-night stand, and “yourself” isn’t that special, forget that advice.

 

But if you want a relationship –short-term, long-term, platonic or not – be yourself.

 

I’ve suggested above that you can fake (or play up) confidence, strength, humour, ambition to attract a woman.

 

But isn’t that contradictory to the advice of being yourself?

 

Not really. Building up any of those areas is actually more FOR yourself than for her.

 

NEVER EVER lie to a woman. I hate that and I’d never advocate it.

 

But – in an effort to self improve – lie to yourself. Before too long, you might be convinced that you ARE strong, you ARE ambitious, you ARE funny, and you ARE confident. And then when you’ve convinced yourself, you WILL be.

 

But you’ll always be yourself.

 

Don’t fake that.

 

Presumably if you are reading this you are a nice person.

 

Trust me – that’s more than enough for most girls. There are so many scumbags, sleazeballs, losers, liers, users and abusers out there – nice is enough.

 

But for them to SEE that…you gotta play the games. Dance the dance. Talk the talk and walk the walk.

 

Play the game…for the right girl.

 

But also play to your strengths.

 

If you are shy, don’t try to be super-outgoing – but you can BE shy and confident – it’s an irresistible combination, trust me. If you are funny – work it baby! – but not in a “trying to impress” way – make it natural, smooth, cool. Use what you’ve got in the ways above. Always with confidence, always with a quiet strength. With chivalry – not OTT chivalry, just basic consideration for females. With some humour as often as appropriate. And sure, sometimes with some money and a butt flex if you want. But the latter two don’t work for me – because I don’t really LIKE the girls that they work for. Keep working on the former three. And eventually ADD them to your strengths.

 

We all have different strengths and weakness.

 

Some are compatible with some girls, some not.

 

Example: One of my strengths is that I make a very good friend, with a nice person. My friends are very important to me, and I can be very supportive to them. But this is also a weakness – for some girlfriends who can’t accept opposite-sex friendships outside of a core relationship. (BIG problem with the narrow-minded, always-jealous population of this country, trust me).

 

Compatibility will always be an issue in any relationship that lasts longer than a month. Sure, you’ll ALWAYS need to compromise in a relationship, but ultimately you need to find someone you have a pretty good compatibility with. Same pleasures. Same morals. Same ideas. Same direction in life – at least for now. Variety is good – and challenging – but TOO much incompatibility means an impossible level of compromise and ultimate relationship breakdown.

 

So…don’t HIDE who you are.

 

No fear. No fear. No fear.

 

You ARE great.

 

I believe that.

 

That’s why ADDING strength, humour, confidence and ambition to your greatness ISN’T a lie, it’s just ADDING.

 

Be yourself.

 

Give her a chance to see who you are.

 

But…

 

To do that…

 

Be patient…

 

Don’t be needy.

 

Don’t be desperate.

 

Don’t be weak.

 

Don’t be uncomfortable.

 

Don’t TRY to impress.

 

Don’t lie (ever).

 

And…

 

Don’t care.

 

Simply.

 

Be confident…and she’ll feel comfortable.

 

Be strong…and she’ll feel attracted.

 

Be honest…and she’ll feel secure.

 

Be respectful…and she’ll feel appreciated.

 

Be funny…and she’ll feel happy.

 

Be cool…and she’ll wonder why you aren’t like the other puppy dogs chasing around her feet.

 

And ultimately…

 

Be yourself.

 

And if that’s not enough for her…

 

If she doesn’t understand you, appreciate you, SEE you…

 

Or if you just don’t click…

 

If there’s no connection, no compatibility…

 

If you experience rejection of any type, for any reason…

 

Please, please, please remember the following line:

 

 

 

It’s Not Me, It’s You

 

 

Those of you in the right age range, with access to television, and with great taste, will undoubtedly share my opinion that “Seinfeld” is one of the top three shows ever to appear on TV.

 

Years from now, after we’ve blown up or global-melted the population of this planet away to dust or ice, alien archeologists will arrive and attempt to understand what happened here. And for them – the best relic/treasure they could find – the best socio-historic document of late 20^th Century western existence…will be a box set of “Seinfeld”.

 

It’s simply superb.

 

And one of the it’s-so-genius-funny-because-it-so-obviously-true bits of the show was it’s dilution of one aspect of dating (or breakup) etiquette into just one line:

 

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

 

Specifically, if one character was not interested in pursing a relationship with another, then they could (honestly or not) explain their motivations as NOT being based on the person that they were breaking up with, but based on themselves. In other words – there was nothing wrong with the person they were dumping – instead the problem was within themselves – they weren’t capable of a commitment, a relationship, or the timing was wrong for them, or…yada, yada, yada…

 

“Seinfeld” distilled this common trend from society into a hilarious-because-it’s-so-true ongoing joke.

 

The irony is…when someone SAYS that line to you: “It’s not you, it’s me”, or even just expresses the sentiment behind it – it’s almost impossible to believe. It’s almost impossible to believe that the problem is with the dumper – because they are the one in control, they are the one doing the dumping! Thus the problem must be…within the dumpee. Some failing of theirs.

 

“It’s not you, it’s me” – even when delivered gently, generously, heartfelt, honestly – that line, that sentiment – usually has the opposite effect.

 

Because the dumpee thinks, “Don’t tell me it’s not ME. Of course it’s me! Otherwise why would you be dumping me!!!”

 

Due to a lack of strength, control and confidence (all of course sapped away at that very moment) the dumpee cannot HELP but take it personally, take it as a negative attack on themselves.

 

But the ironic thing IS…if you come around full circle…if you remove Seinfeld overdose of cynicism and balance reality with optimism…

 

The line usually IS true.

 

The line usually IS about the dumper, more than the dumpee.

 

If I say that line – and God knows I’ve delivered it dozens of times myself – I AM always being honest.

 

And when I say it…

 

It’s NOT about the lovely person making themselves available to me. It’s about me.

 

I rarely get to the point when I have to say that line directly, but if things go a little too far with a girl (especially in her mind) then…sure I trot it out. Most Vietnamese girls don’t groan at it because they don’t realise it’s such a cliché.

 

But when I say it...when disentangling myself from these things I always seem to end up in…

 

I mean it.

 

It’s not about them.

 

It’s about me.

 

I’ve only realized exactly why recently, but a lot of it had to do with timing. My heart simply was in deep hibernation for years.

 

But the rest of it…at any time…

 

I simply WASN’T the right guy for that girl.

 

She might have wanted a guy who would dump all his friends for her. That’s not me. She might have wanted a guy who would pay for everything. That’s not me. She might have wanted a husband within five minutes. That’s not me.

 

Obviously the above paragraph is about incompatibility. The stuff she wanted was fine, for her. But not for me. So…from MY perspective – the problem was her. But from HERS…the problem was ME.

 

Get it?

 

Incompatibility is NOT about one person being “too good” for another. That’s bullshit – no one is ever “too good” for anyone else – except in the deluded minds of either very arrogant or very insecure people.

 

Incompatibility is simply about two people wanting different things, two people on two different paths. And that’s not a BAD thing. That’s just life. It’s inevitable. This spiel above on rejection has been specifically about early dating, but it also applies to initial attraction. Early on in a meeting of two single people, at least ONE (usually the woman) can gage if there is much chance of compatibility. This might be based on any of the factors above. Maybe she’s looking for a bulging wallet and a flat stomach, and yours don’t comply. Or maybe not…maybe she prefers a bulging stomach and a flat wallet…and yours don’t comply. Who knows? Maybe she’s looking for a loud and crazy guy and you are shy and reserved…or vice versa. Maybe she wants someone young, and you are old…or vice versa. Maybe it’s just a feeling she gets and can’t even bother to put it into thoughts or words…just a feeling that tells her – “this guy ain’t the one”…

 

Obviously, the Seinfeldian quote above is a polite simplification of the disinterest or lack of attraction one person feels for another.

 

Because…

 

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

 

…isn’t totally, isn’t EXACTLY true.

 

But if someone says that to you…believe it.

 

Because the first phrase, TOTALLY, is true…

 

“It’s not you...” True.

 

“…it’s me”…kinda true.

 

The phrase has been distilled and simplified from its original intention, but…here’s why I personally think it means:

 

“It’s not you…” means “There’s nothing wrong with you, you are a fantastic person, and I’m sure you are destined to find happiness…”

 

…”it’s me.” means “but you won’t be finding happiness with ME – simply because I personally don’t think you are my type. YOU may think I’m your type, but you are wrong – because for us to be compatible – I’ve got to think it too. And something is missing for me. But that’s not YOUR problem, it’s mine. Because you’re cool. I just have these ridiculous standards. I like rich, smarmy bastards. And you ain’t one.”

 

Ok, so I got a little too specific in the last three sentences above.

 

But the basic theme holds true.

 

When someone rejects you – whether in a relationship, or in a first, second or thirtieth meeting – it’s NOT about you.

 

It’s about how compatible they perceive themselves to be with you.

 

And that PERCEPTION they have is much, much, much more about THEM than it is about you.

 

It’s a little about you, sure.

 

But not much.

 

Edited version:

 

“It’s not you, it’s about me and how I don’t THINK you are right for me. But who knows if I’m right?”

 

That’s the way I would take it – if the line, or the sentiment, was delivered to me.

 

Face value.

 

If someone said to me: “It’s not about you, it’s me”, I‘d believe it. And I’d think…”She’s right. It’s not about me at all. It’s totally about her… so…NEXT!!!”

 

But that’s me.

 

If you are anything like George on “Seinfeld” – an insecure, needy, whiny, hilarious character – then ANYTHING negative that happens…is about you. If someone said to George: “It’s not about you, it’s about me”, George’s psyche would scream: “LIAR! Of course it’s about ME! I’m worthless, never going to be good enough for anyone, why would anyone want me!” Well, humour for one thing. But, George obviously had some confidence problems. As several of my friends do.

 

These guys ALWAYS take rejection personally.

 

They never think it’s about the girls.

 

They always think it’s about them.

 

Ironically, this self-perpetuates their insecurity and lack of confidence and decreases their attractiveness to girls anyway!

 

But it’s crazy.

 

These guys are great – sensitive, kind, honest guys – and lots of girls would be lucky to have them. But they keep shooting themselves in the foot by taking rejection seriously.

 

So…unless the person reading this is a serial-killer, drug-addict, or traffic cop…remember - if you are rejected: 

It’s not about you. It’s about them.

 

That attitude, that confidence will take you a long way.

 

Despite my massive advice-giving session here, I’ve never been the type of guy to approach women. In my long, long life, I’ve done it maybe five times, usually plastered. I am no master at picking up strangers. But I’m pretty good at chatting to them, and sometimes turning them from strangers to friends, and (very sometimes) from friends to…more.

 

I’ve been incredibly lucky with women. But then again, I don’t keep score. I have so many friends, and I guess if I think about it only a tiny percentage of them have ever been interested in more than friendship with me. But, with so many friends, that’s still a high percentage.

 

But…my success with women hasn’t come from hunting, from chasing. I’m sure that if I went out every night planning to score with a beautiful women I could spend a lot of energy and money and perhaps do so. But that would probably come after a LOT of rejection. None of these writings here should imply that I am some super-stud that is incredibly successful with ALL women. In fact, I’m sure that 90% of the beautiful women I see every day would turn me down cold, if I approached them, chased them. Instead my life is such that…I don’t need to chase anyone. They just seem to chase me.

 

Thus…rejection is never an issue for me…unless I’m handing it out.

 

But…even if I WAS getting rejected, and often, I wouldn’t take it personally…or would really try not to. In so many ways - rejection is cool…it teaches lessons, builds character, and always provides funny stories to share with your mates.

 

It’s not always a bad thing. That’s easy for me to say because I rarely experience it.

 

But…if I DID enjoy chasing women and did it a lot…

 

I’m sure I would cop A LOT of rejection.

 

And I would never take the rejection seriously.

 

Because…

 

It’s not about me. It’s about them.

 

Some women not interested in meeting someone right now. Some are lesbians. Some are in a relationship already. Some are (like me) not in a relationship, but in love. Some aren’t friendly. Some are bitches.

 

Therefore in those cases…it’s TOTALLY about them.

 

Sometimes of course, it’s just MOSTLY about them, and a LITTLE about you. She thinks you are too short, or too tall. She thinks you are too stable, or too crazy. She thinks you are too charming, or too sweet.

 

It’s a little about you. But mostly about her.

 

And…thus…if she is not interested in you perhaps because of you…that is FINE, that’s her right.

 

Is EVERY girl your type?

 

Hopefully your answer is “No”.

 

In the same way, YOU will not be every girl’s type.

 

Till Miss Right comes along, odds are that you won’t be most girls’ type. This doesn’t mean you won’t be the next girl’s type.

 

So if a girl doesn’t have the good taste to like you (the confident, strong, funny, ambitious version of you) for YOU…

 

If that’s not enough for her…

 

If she doesn’t see compatibility on the horizon…

 

If she can’t take the time to really SEE and appreciate you…

 

Then…

 

That’s cool.

 

Respect her preferences. Respect her.

 

Walk away.

 

She ain’t the one.

 

Return to the sea, and find another fish.

 

Or better yet, let the fish find you…

 

 

 

Finding Mojo

 

 

As the saying goes, there’s plenty of fish in the sea

 

And a lot of those fish have found me.

 

I don’t want to suggest that all I’ve been doing is lying around my room waiting for these “fish” to swim on in and squire me away.

 

I’ve certainly made myself physically (if not emotionally) available. I’ve initiated dates a lot more often than the gender reverse. I’ve actually tried frequently to meet women on a regular basis…partially out of loneliness, partially lust…but mainly because I just enjoy social contact with them a lot. One specific method I’ve done this is of course, the internet (see my 2004 “Confessions” article), but mainly I just do so by opening myself up as much as possible. That phrase – “opening myself up” does not actually mean in a physical/sexual sense (minds/gutter/out!) but just in a social sense. I used to think I was opening myself up in an emotional sense too, until…until recent events have shown that my heart was well and truly sealed up tight for many years…until…well until recent events have unsealed it in spectacular fashion.

 

Basically, between 2003 and late 2006, while my heart was “closed for repair”, the rest of me was actively, openly saying…”hey, I’m here, come and get me!” And…surprise, surprise – they’ve been coming.

 

And it’s mainly because I’ve just been an open, friendly person to anyone that extends the hand of friendship to me. Simple as that.

 

At my recent birthday party, there were lots of people there, maybe 80, maybe 100, I’ll look back at the photos and count them all one day. And – despite many friends’ observations that this ratio was more extreme – there were maybe 60% girls to 40% guys. OK, MAYBE 70% - 30%. But no more. And – ANOTHER thing a lot of friends commented on at my party – or have constantly observed since then – lots of my female friends are really gorgeous. Again…I’m not sure I agree with that statement. Certainly – most of my friends are gorgeous on the inside, but physically…hmmm…I guess that’s a really subjective thing. And objectively, I’d really disagree with their statements, and guess that there were only three or four people at my party that could truly be called “beautiful”. So why the comments of high physical attractiveness’ quotient? Well I believe ther