Two years ago, an unlikely place held a valuable lesson for me. I’m not sure I deserved it, nor I was proud of how I got it, but it was mine, nonetheless.
2021 proved to be exceptionally challenging, perhaps the most trying year I've ever faced, in terms of dealing with people. Post-lockdown year created, bred, and nurtured many beasts moonlighting as humans. These vultures seemed to sense your vulnerabilities and needs, approaching under the guise of empathy and assistance, only to toy with you and make your life even more complicated. It was a year I’ve never felt more out of place, struggling to find common ground with those around me, unable to grasp people's actions, and often feeling like I didn't belong anywhere, with anyone, as if no soul truly understood my heart.
Right in the middle of feeling so out of place, there was a sporting event I went to watch with “friends”, at a restaurant. There was a table next to us with 7-8 guys; someone at my table knew someone at their table. A guy was sitting there who kept glancing over at me, not in a flirtatious manner, but as if he truly saw me. While watching the game, he would look over at me, whenever I spoke. I knew a lot about the sport (for a woman), and about his team (for a woman); it seemed to pique his interest. When the game finished, he tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to pull one credit card from the stack of cards he held. I chose a card, and it happened to be the one covering both our bills. He was delighted (jokingly) that I didn't select his card. We exchanged a few words, and he invited us to a nearby party.
Have you ever experienced exerting so much effort in trying to speak your soul to someone, yet it keeps getting lost in translation? The struggle to show your true self, while people consistently misconstrue you. No matter how carefully you choose your words, or even when you do get them right, it just doesn't project the real YOU to others. But then, every so often, perhaps only a few times in a lifetime, regardless of your efforts, someone just happens to understand you. And you want to hold on to them for dear life?
You know that one:
“I hope you find someone who speaks your language so you don't have to spend a lifetime translating your soul”.
We were part of a group of 20 people at that party, yet he focused his conversation on me all night. Regardless of what I said, he responded with an effortless understanding, even the things that didn’t come out of my mouth the way I intended them to. As others joined our conversation, he spoke about me to them, right in front of me, with genuine appreciation and joy. I felt a mix of confusion and contentment I hadn't experienced in years.
It wasn't only the words he chose to describe me, but also the way he was looking at me. His eyes held kindness I hadn't encountered in a long time. He didn't regard me, as most people tend to, with the familiar passive aggression that often comes my way; 6-foot-tall women usually don’t inspire kindness in people. Or ever get it.
Whenever someone approached, on the verge of pushing me, he would be over on that side in the blink of an eye to put his body in between me and anyone drunk that wobbled my way. When guys came over to hit on me or ask me what I wanted to drink, he would be slightly annoyed and calmly tell them to get lost. It wasn’t so much a flirtation as it was a genuine interest in another human being. Also, he had a wedding ring on. Someone mentioned a wife at some point. He asked me if I was coming to see the next game. I am. We exchanged goodbyes.
A few days later, the next game was up, and this time, my best friend decided to join. We arrived at our usual spot to watch the game, this time it was about 30 people at our table. He saw me immediately, waved, and invited me to sit next to him. As I approached, I explained to him my best friend was with me, he didn't know anyone in the crowd, and I didn’t want to leave him to himself. A blonde woman came over, introduced herself, and said: “I’ll sit with your friend and keep him company, go sit with him (the guy), he’s been talking about you all day.”
I take my seat, and once again, he's talking to me the entire game, attentive to my every need - what I'd like to drink, what I want to eat. During halftime, someone casually mentions his name and wife in the same sentence. They say something along the lines of “your wife just told me” - wait, how can your wife just tell him, if she’s not here? Oh, she’s here. Wait. What? Your wife is here at this table? Who’s your wife? A blonde sitting with your best friend.
A blonde that has been sitting across from us for an hour, the one that came to me and TOLD ME to sit with you, kept my friend company so that I can talk to you? Yes.
What?
Why?
The game ended, and the enthusiasm to continue was there, just like last time. Our group of 30 began making its way to the next venue. I was puzzled. It's not that I was entertaining the idea of being with this guy or anything; I typically need much more to go on, to be inspired to take action, still, I enjoyed our conversation, and I wasn't ready for it to end. Clearly, this can’t go on.
While strolling, a blonde, the wife, came over to walk alongside me to the next venue. I felt a bit agitated and confused. I wanted to freely talk, throw looks, drink, and enjoy someone cool, intelligent, amusing, and, above all, genuine - in a year filled with vultures around me. I was selfish; I wanted this, this night. Realizing she was there, dampened my mood. I contemplated leaving and going home. I think I even mentioned it, and at that moment, I guess, she decided to walk with me.
She asked me not to leave please, go with us all, it’s such a cool night, we’re having a blast! As I was walking alongside her, I thought, Christ, what part of all this is a pleasure for you? What part of your husband talking to another woman is fun? I wanted to dislike this woman. I tried. But she was funny, smart, she was relaxed, confident, she was literally a mirror of him, in her behavior toward me. I have never in my entire life met such an endearing human being.
He talked to me again, all night, same as the other day, protected me from pushy drunk people again, barked at any guy that would come hit on me, and she was just there, fun, pleasant, joking. She picked up on my confusion, and at some point during the night, she came over to us, yes he totally was talking to me alone, on one side, when she came over and told me - “he’s so taken with you! And that’s totally cool because I see why, you are awesome, we both are taken with you”. He then jokes (hopefully) - if I had met you before her, I probably wouldn’t be married to her now. I’m at this point extremely puzzled, and uncomfortable, while watching this surreal exchange like a tennis match, wishing someone reveal the hidden cameras or at least clarify the situation.
But that didn’t happen, these two were just exceptionally pleasant, nice people, confident in themselves and their marriage, and we all had one of the best nights I had in a long while.
At a certain moment, my focus shifted towards her. I found myself wanting to talk with her more than with him. I thought to myself how incredible it is to find a man who understands you to such a degree, but meeting a woman like her holds even greater value. There are more men like him in this world, but there aren't as many women like her. Encountering a woman who is so self-assured, so evolved to let interactions unfold without ego is rare. At that moment, I felt small. I felt she was so much more than me.
We exchanged numbers. She invited me to another party a few months later. We all spent another great night talking and hanging out together. She invited me to their farewell gathering for their closest friends before they moved to another city. He wanted to take 700 pictures with me, she took the pictures. We all took pictures together. This woman left such an impression on me; I often think about this experience as some defining moment of my life. I wondered why I needed a reflection of a guy who appreciated me when I should have recognized my own worth. I know my worth, but why did I need a confirmation? And why do we value a confirmation of a guy more than anything else? Why does a man's opinion or actions towards us carry so much weight?
This woman came out that night to yank me out of that tired notion. She held so much more value for me.
———
A few days ago, a friend of mine texted me, telling me about a guy she hung out with a few times. She's interested in him, they are talking, and engaging on Instagram. She sent me screenshots, asking for advice on his responses. What's your take on this? What do you think his words imply? He hasn't replied in 2 hours, didn’t ask to see me again, does that mean it's over? We spent hours dissecting this hopefully a great guy but possibly a loser that holds a significant sway over my friend's mood, joy, happiness, and outlook, in the days to come.
At the same time, I started talking to a girl who had read my previous article and gave me such a good insight into something I wrote about. Usually, when I write about something that resonates with women or reflects their experiences, they message me to tell me about it. This woman stood out. The insight she gave me was incredibly precise, lived, experienced, and articulated so well; or she just spoke my exact language. I was eager to hear more. She wasn't a new person; she was someone who often commented on my articles, shared them and someone I engaged in a few inspiring exchanges before, over the past couple of years.
We began our conversation discussing my article and branched into a wide array of topics; shared experiences, challenges, relationships, business, love, health, and so much more. The conversation was engaging and so absorbing that we texted for about 10 hours.
The convo inspired me, filling me with hope, joy, and a sense of being understood. I didn’t have to try like I usually do, even with my close friends, to watch my words, or make sure I’m not too blunt or insensitive, it was just easy. It made me hopeful and inspired. In the middle of all that, my friend kept sending me more screenshots from her conversation with a guy. I talked to both of these women simultaneously and at some point, I started to laugh at the stark contrast of the moment. Here I am, having the best night, enjoying every second of my conversation with this girl where we shared experiences, plans, and ideas. Here is my friend, having the worst night, caught up worrying about the trivial words of a guy she had only met a few times - feeling anxious, having expectations that would likely never be fulfilled, and ending up worse off than she was before their conversation began.
Please don’t interpret this as a forsake-all-men manifesto. Absolutely not. Men should simply be to us what we are to them. Part of life, not what makes or breaks our life. They shouldn't hold the key to all happiness, dictate our moods, joy, or the hope we have about our futures.
How many times have you chosen to spend hours talking to some mediocre man online, while your girlfriend wanted to tell you something or your parents needed you? We all know the difference between a great guy who is direct and transparent in his intentions. But we also know a time-waster who needs a bit of digital attention, while having no intentions. Why are we constantly beating a dead horse, fixating on some part of that man we most likely invented ourselves?
My conversation with this girl started with a 10-hour chat, and it extended into a week of the most interesting topics. We began making some pretty serious plans that got me so excited. It was an absolute sensation for me to feel content, safe, seen, understood, and hopeful about life, and I didn’t get that from a guy. I got it from a woman. Like me. A friend.
Throughout my entire life, I had waited for a man to grasp me, my lifestyle, my aspirations, my ideas, and assist me in bringing them to life. I had always believed that this understanding and support needed to come from a man whom I would love and who would round me up. Put me together. Make a pie from all my ingredients.
Except, it doesn’t.
For the best part of my life, I didn’t clock in the best relationships with women around me. There were girlfriends around, but a group of more than 3 women made me anxious. I felt more comfortable with boys. Women resented me, I resented them for resenting me. They blamed me for loads of things, breaking up with their boyfriends, someone not liking them, doing this, saying that; if I was in the room, I’d get blamed for it.
What I failed to understand is how threatening my exterior was to them. I was always strong on the outside, I never displayed any vulnerabilities (had plenty), never cried about men (outside), and never let numerous things that clearly bothered them affect me. No one could relate to me.
It was only when I began to write and share aspects of my life, my experiences, and my vulnerabilities, that women started to respond and relate to me. I would love to tell you money is the most valuable thing that came out of my writing, but it isn’t, yet - women are. Writing has brought many remarkable women into my life and has helped me understand them, as well as understand myself through the lens these women saw me through.
For the first time in my life, I could imagine myself walking in so many different women’s shoes. The exchanges I have had with these women, all of you, have changed my life in a way that no man ever did.
If we ease the pressure on men to be everything for us, perhaps then they can actually become something. For the first time in my life, I wake up excited to see if a woman has messaged me and what she has to say, not a man.
If that’s not beating the game, I don’t know what is.