Success

The other day, I was reading an article in a magazine about the so called “successful women”. They were awarding them according to their contributions to society. It called my attention that the winners had four characteristics in common: wealthy, thin, married, entrepreneurs. And then, it occurred to me that the magazine people must have had a very narrow group of individuals to pick the winners from. It seemed like the only plausible explanation. Out of all the incredible women out there, who are certainly doing amazing things, only trophy wives, rich, star college graduated, liposuctioned women made the cut. Weird, to say the least. Because success goes way beyond this socially desired veneer. Even if it doesn’t get you to the pages of a posh editorial publication.

Successful women are brave.

So brave indeed, they’ll put on some lycra and go to the gym, fully aware of the fact they’ll never be skinny and that cellulitis won’t leave them if the Queen herself demands it to. They will embrace their bodies, buy a bikini set and wear it in public despite some people in Vogue magazine would say they are insane to do so.

Successful women have friends, not frenemies. That’s because they are generous, candid and kind enough so as to keep them. They are nothing less than exultant when their loved ones thrive. Really, honestly, sincerely happy. Leave competiveness for the Olympics.

Successful women often laugh and make others laugh because having company in laughter makes it more fun. It prevents precocious aging more than your usual Clinique, Vichy or La Roche Posay night cream as well.

Successful women don’t have to pretend their job is more interesting and important than others’, just to impress. They do what they do. It doesn’t matter if it’s not the newest fashionable job.

Successful women don’t have to overwork to feel competent. They understand competence is to excel in whatever it is that you do, and that being a doormat to your boss/company/office is not entailed in it.

Successful women don’t lie about their age. They are not afraid of ageing even if they’re still not married, have children and/or a million dollars in the bank. They don’t need anybody’s pity, nor do they need to show material proof of their happiness to anybody.

Successful women never forget where they come from. Mother, father, siblings, grandparents, the whole lot. These will always define her more than jobs, degrees, lifestyles or brands.

Successful women don’t feel the need to carry a man around town like it’s the new Birkin just because everybody else expects them to be in a relationship in order to be a fulfilled human being and a productive member of society. Sometimes it’s actually more useful to carry a real Birkin. Or a Kate Spade.

Successful women say “I’m sorry”, “Please” and “Thank you”. Because they wouldn’t be successful at all if they didn’t.

Successful women aren’t exasperated to have babies, but instead, some of them long become mothers (and, yes, there is a great difference). Moreover, they aren’t raising their children to be little emperors and empresses; on the contrary, what they seek is to bring up respectful, tolerant and happy people. People who can inhabit this planet’s reality and not the Isle of Neverfrustratedland.

Successful women regret. Sometimes they cry. They take the wrong turn along the way. They change their minds. They apologise. And they know it’s in fact very healthy. It means they feel, they care, they won’t let pride take over and that there’s a great deal of humanity within their hearts. Feeling like a respectable human being in the end of the day is, at times, the utmost evidence of success.

However, if you read some magazine or saw some TV show, film or soap opera which claimed otherwise, that a woman’s success derives from any other items than the ones listed above, I can only say: It’s plain bullshit.

 

 

About fireworks.

Falling in love with a totally random person is easy. Sometimes all it takes is a word or a gesture and you’re hooked. Consequently, falling out of love is also as easy – only a word or a gesture stand in the way of love becoming loathing.

The steps or phases are more or less the same for everybody:

• the dazzling phase (it feels like you’re on a cloud);
• the enchantment phase (aren’t I lucky to have him/her?);
• the “doubting your choices” phase (is love supposed to feel this way?);
• the eternal boredom phase (you know the relationship is going nowhere, communication is dull and you’re trying to find a way out of it. It feels like you’re stuck forever);
• and finally, the breakup (normally achieved when you’ve lost all patience and respect for your peer).

Fireworks, on the other hand, are a whole different deal. Because, to begin with, it doesn’t come from what the other person does, but from what he/she is. It strikes you like lightening and you won’t even understand why or how. Sometimes it only takes a look or the sound of his voice to know that this person will (often unwarily) play a protagonist role in your life. It’s a strong, unexpected feeling that comes from within and makes time expand when you’re together. Like in the movies. Like in that beautiful “Big Fish” scene.  It transcends reality.

Some people are so lucky as to find this person and to actually be with them. Some will never feel anything of the sort. Some will find it in their best friend, like the adorable Francis Ha. Some will find it and give up before trying anything, because everybody is so scared of feelings these days. You see, fireworks are indeed wonderful but they don’t respect timing or geography, and that’s where the problem begins. When it hits you, it won´t matter if you live eleven thousand kilometres apart, if one of you is joining the salvation army, engaged, going to a humanitarian mission in Africa or on your way to become a member of clergy. And you may try as much as you want to push it out of you, but when you do so much as to receive a facebook message from that person – after months or years – all your efforts will have been in vain. Your heart will pound faster, you won’t be able to keep from smiling.  

Have I seen fireworks? Yes, obviously. Only once. I don’t think it will happen a second time. How did it turn out? Well, it’s enough to say we’re not together. Never have been together. Don’t know if we’ll ever be.

I don’t even know if we can be. But surprisingly, I am not capable of feeling angry about it. Not a bit. Because the thing when you see fireworks is that it comes with an enormous feeling of happiness which leaves little room for possessiveness. It has nothing to do with owning people or wanting to be the centre of their existence, nor with the need to be loved and desired. There’s no lust in it. It’s different from all the romantic stuff you’ve felt before. It’s more about looking at this person with such care, love and tenderness that you couldn’t bare the thought of them being unhappy. Let alone you being the cause for their unhappiness. You just want them to find their path in life and walk it along with them. Even if it means you can’t be together as a couple, if it means supporting choices you don’t fully understand, watching from the distance and cheering. Even if it means you have to help them escape the Nazis in a plane from Casablanca with another person while you helplessly say: “Here’s looking at you, kid”.

That kind of stuff.

And you’ll be sincerely happy if they’re safe and sound, despite the fact your own heart hurts a little bit and all you can hope for your future is the regular, ordinary falling in love stunt with someone who doesn’t turn out to make you sick to your stomach in the end. Maybe you can marry, have children and a happy life just from the “regular” falling in love. Why not?

I do hope you get to see the real fireworks, though. Even if you catch just a glimpse… it’s life changing. 

My own personal script: advertising Colombia

Long shot: airport, a queue in front of immigration officers. A sign above everyone says DEPARTURES.

Cuts to medium shot: girl approaches officer, slides her passport to the other side of the glass. Officer looks at her, opens passport and types a few things on his computer.

A dialogue in Spanish.

Officer: ¡Tan pronto te vas!

Girl: (smiling politely) Sí.

Officer: Pero, ¿cómo ya te vas?

Girl: (looks confused, but smiles) Pues, se acabaron las vacaciones. ¡Qué pena! (she laughs)

Officer: (looks something up in his computer) ¿Así que eres docente?

Girl: (thinks “wtf? I’m leaving country, what does he care what I do?”) Sí, soy.

Officer: Y, dime ¿cuándo vuelves?

Girl: (understands what might be going on and thinks it’s funny and also weird, but basically funny) Bueno, seguramente volveré porque lo he pasado genial, y además…

Officer: Pero, yo quiero saber precisamente cuando vuelves. ¿Semana que viene, mes que viene?…

 

Girl blushes, starts laughing and can’t think of a suitable answer. Officer slides her passport back, blinks one eye and tells her to come back soon.

Play while you finish reading: Drive my car

Fade out to black screen. “Drive my car” starts playing and some sayings in a colourful font fade in:

“Colombia: we take flirting to the next level.”

Or, else:

“Colombia: that’s how it’s done.”

Maybe it could also be something shorter like:

“Colombia: mojo.”

Or even better, just cut the crap and go:

“Colombia: meow!”

Were I a publicist, this would certainly get a shot at the screens. Honestly, think about it! If this is how the trip ends (at an airport, which is probably the least sexy place on the planet along with the dentist’s office and hospitals – when you’re a patient; we know doctors and nurses do a lot stuff there), can you imagine what the rest of it was like? Yes, it’s totally worth the visit, everyone. And not just because of the non-stop 24 hours a day flirting, of course (even though that makes you feel pretty and exotic and like you’re the reincarnation of Rita Hayworth). But, natural and cultural beauties aside, the pampering and ego-massage are certainly a plus.

Cheat

Cheat. If there’s one piece of advice I believe I should pass on to mankind, this is it: Young boys and girls, cheat. My sentimental life so far has basically been a series of long-term relationships, which obviously didn’t work because I’m still (happily, might I say) single. There hasn’t been that many relationships, but because they were long-term they managed to take up a lot of my “youth party/fun/doing crazy stuff time”, or whatever you want to call it. And boy, did I have chances to cheat! To be fair, I did it once; and felt horrible afterwards, the person never actually found out about it, but, oh, the catholic guilt. Had I known then what I know now, I would have done it way more. In fact, I regret every single opportunity I had to try something new and exciting and didn’t do it because it would be cheating.

Frankly, not one out of my four ex-boyfriends deserved me not cheating on them. So, please, listen to me: when given the chance, cheat away. Because, let me tell you, honesty in relationships (especially when you’re a girl) comes at a high cost. When it’s all over, all the cards are laid and the shit hits the fan, all courtesy is gone. They will never remember you as the decent person who remained loyal to the end, even though you were much sexier, smarter, prettier, cooler and many more “ers” than they were. Or if you helped them throughout the harshest periods of their lives. Nope. You’ll always be the person who didn’t love them enough and they’ll do anything, I mean ANYTHING, to hurt you to your guts. Even draw the family card, which is just as low as one can go. Seriously. Curious fact: all four of them, at a certain point, told me I was THE one in their lives. All four. I believed the two first times. But still, I didn’t cheat. Should have.

I admire people who can make friends out of their ex. I never could, even though I tried to maintain an open channel until they insulted me in ways I never thought them able to. Oh, and if you have friends in common, forget them. They’re HIS friends now, ‘cause you’re the mean lady who couldn’t bear to stick to a dead end relationship. You won’t be getting their birthdayor wedding invitations. You want to travel alone, party with your girl friends, you won’t have him control your bank account or every minute of your day, and people (women included) find that to be an outrage. So, ladies, come on, if you have a boyfriend start cheating today. Do it like there’s no tomorrow. Try new people and new feelings whenever you can, don’t wait until you are 29, hating yourself for being decent and polite. Take chances as they come. When the breakup comes, there is no decency, nor respect.

Cheat. But, please, only until you have a golden ring on your finger. Cheating when you’re engaged/married does make you kind of awful.