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Posts Tagged ‘dating’

Feed me F*cking Fermatas; 6 holds if this is how we date now.

In courtship, Love on June 15, 2015 at 10:05 am

Feed me fermatas

Date for dessert? While it may not look as picture perfect, or present itself as exotically described, the nature of the romantic diet is changing with each new App that serves up human beings at your fingertips. Because this is how we date now, and it’s cacophonous.

We don’t know what romance looks like now, because we’re drowning in a sea of triple-filtered art, adjusted with the perfect aperture, because even amateurs know angles matter. We think romance is glamour and glitter comparable to Caitlyn Jenner’s Vanity Fair Coverpage, but note that she didn’t wear her “I woke up like this” shirt, (does she even have one?) Irrelevant. Romance is satin corsets. Romance is perfect hair that arrives on set in a box. Romance is made-up with chemicals that could fill an entire coffin. Yes, romance is dead sexy.

Romance today is romance filtered to amp up sex appeal, the innovative dirty old tricks that food photographers have employed for decades to induce your saliva. As if knowledge is power. What did we learn? Instead of being in the moment, we’re being in our phones as we so generously share with the world, the moments that we’re missing, havingmissing.

Because a lot’s missing.

Missing between the myriad of screens and our lives; between the narratives of our lives; between what we show vs. what we are; between what’s filtered vs. what’s real. In the forging of more and more connections, a disconnect is growing between our public vs. private selves, online vs. offline selves. When we choose quantity over quality, something is sacrificed. At which point, does the scale tip over, as we dilute ourselves across multi-platforms in the world of 2.0? In which dimension do we then exist? In which dimension are we searching for that elusive more? In which dimension are we truly present? In which dimension does the meaning we so yearn for, reside?

I’m not your therapist. I’m a composer.

Yet, I didn’t always understand that sometimes, “less is more.” During my undergrad composition studies, my music had been very “notey”. Too many ideas, too many motifs, too many notes; I wrote with the ego of a piano major. Reduce, hold, and stretch; bin the notes, hold what’s there, extend the phrase by another bar or two. Then, the music started to breathe.

Because space. Ahh….

What a novel idea.

Yet, we fill every space we have, with all the notes we gather, with yesterday’s garbage, and yesteryear’s baggage. Input, input, input, because we derive security from our tangible constructions. But what if I told you, that you could get security elsewhere? Wouldn’t you like to hold onto the tingling moments for longer? At your discretion? What if I told you, that instead of using your tech., that you could use a fermata? Or six?

I. Hold the Gaze

Eye-contact is what’s used to place someone at the crosshairs. How are you planning to get a decent shot if you don’t hold still? It’s basic, almost animalistic. Like my driving instructor told me the first time I sat in the driver’s seat, “look where you’re going”. Hold the gaze, if you’re interested in pursuit.

II. Fermata Face-Time

Because Face-Time is real time – online or not, and there’s a reason why they call “real time” “real”. Facetime gives you no screen to hide behind, no time to come up with a perfectly phrased response, rehearse a perfectly executed move, or manufacture a witty comeback. In fact, the very quality of “witty” is rather time-sensitive. Witty is sexy in person, delivered in real time; witty, a few days later, reads manipulative, and conniving. If you value the person, make room for, and fermata facetime.

III. Hold Conversation

Because looks get old real quick, and if you can’t converse, learn. The longest conversation I’ve had, in one sitting, was 8 hours, with content so rich, nothing was recycled. Yet, there are people with whom I can’t continue a conversation past 8 minutes. I’m interested in things. And you should be into people who are interested in things, too, because raising the common denominator is public service.

IV. Hold silences

Because I’m a walking contradiction. I believe in lines from movies, even though they’re not real. But this one is. Straight from Pulp Fiction, “That’s when you know you’ve found somebody really special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence.” 

So much happens in silence. So,


V. Hold moments of nudity

Because it’s good for you. Emotional nudity, too. Imagine charging through the battlefield, without weapons, without kevlar. Would you still make war? With what? You’re without guard, defenseless, vulnerable, the preconditions of being real. Unshackle the social conditioning that form your shell. Fermata on the nudity.

VI. Hold your breath

Because the most magnetizing moments are felt, not filtered. If it’s so easy to order up a human being, then why is it harder and harder to find the real thing? Is it possibly, because we’re spending too much time looking in the wrong places? Is it possible, that the real thing happens, in real time? When we are not seeking for the validation of others, but ourselves? When we are really listening to our hearts, instead of counting the ones clicked by others? Fermata inhale; fermata exhale.

Voilà, 6 holds to up stamina and endurance, the way our ancestors did it. Nothing lasts forever, so savour the transient moments of tingling sensations; sustain the butterflies; prolong the moments of the elusive more. Perhaps it’s all illusion, perhaps it’s all myth, but since we realize what we want is a lie, then just maybe, this is how to get it.

I’m not your therapist, only a composer, but perhaps you’ll have a better sounding love story, with space to breathe, to sing, to discover new beats.

If music be the food of love, Seamless some fermatas.



Talk to me like a Man; Rudiments of Courtship; A 5-step How-To.

In courtship, XX & XY on February 4, 2015 at 11:11 pm


If you don’t live under a rock, you’ve probably been inundated with all things Valentine’s (pro and against) for as long as you’ve given up on your New Year’s resolutions. While you’re giving up, at least do it in style – “Say it with Crack Pie” à la Momofuku’s Milk Bar. Yeah, do it with fat that’s worth it. Or “Skip Valentine’s Day this year with a hand-picked selection of the best breakup albums ever recorded.” (Thanks, CD Universe)

Anyone that’s selling anything will now assault you in every way possible, to remind you that Valentine’s Day is upon us, the ultimate turning point of Cuffing Season. Capitalize on those sentiments if you wish; it’s good for the economy; good for the person receiving; good for the dentist; good for the dying CD industry, which could actually use some love. So keep on, Capitalism needs you. But more importantly, while your mind is on the matter, let’s bring it back to the basics. Yeah?

In the digital age, someone with whom to hold a decent conversation is as rare as a relic. In the circus we live in, naked photos come easier than decent invitations; Jane Austen would be rolling in her grave, as cringe-worthy behaviour permeates. So, #bethechange.

Voilà, Rudiments of Courtship
(Needless to say, these do not apply within the #FriendZone)

I. Address me in a manner that shows your force of character
Respect that I have a name. Don’t jump the gun on “baby” talk. Premature anything is less-than-desirable. If you go for nicknames, show intellect and imagination.

Please don’t:

  • Hey buddyyyy”  – Does your buddy wear six inch heels and model lingerie?
  • Yoooo” – I’ve yet to encounter a successful man who addresses a lady like this.

Compel a response, or you won’t get one.

II. Tell me what you love
Tell me about your day, your world, your passions, your dreams. Tell me what you love – I’m all for that. Better yet, teach me what I don’t know. If you have me locked in a conversation with you, green lights, I want to know. There’s nothing more sexy than a man in focus. Nothing more attractive than seeing someone light up in their element. “A man’s worth is no greater than his ambitions,” words of gold from Marcus Aurelius. So show me. I remember you for your ambitions and drive, I’m less so affected by physique. Call me jaded; I work with models all the time. But the most beautiful thing? Well, here.
So talk to me. But remember, speaking poorly about your ex’s, your friends, or other important people in your personal/professional lives, will reflect poorly on you. Refrain from that descent. Gossip is for tweenage girls; talk to me like a Man.

III. Ask me for what I like
I don’t do “favourites”, but I have preferences, I know what I like. I’m open to what I don’t know, of which there are lots, but the arrogance to assume you know what’s best for me, doesn’t jive. I like men who take charge, but real men never neglect to ask.
Assume nothing. Ask.

IV. Offer tangible solutions
I lead a complexly interesting life, of which there are frequent radical surprises. (Reads, “I’m a trouble-maker, and tend to be more than a handful.”) A single, pitiful, expression of “That sucksss…” is not something I need to reacquaint with. With first-hand experience,  I know better than you can imagine. Trust me. Real men offer tangible solutions.
i.e. When I got a flat driving on the high-way, support physically came to my rescue (in a suit-and-tie no less, straight from work in another city, meeting me at disaster point!). I learned early on that Roadside Assistance is for girls who didn’t have real men in their lives.

Please don’t:

  • Tell me I need a break; I’m blessed to do what I love, and I run on that.
  • Instead? Plan a break, and take me there. Intrigue me. Command my respect, attention, sweep me off my feet. Otherwise, I’ll think of you as a pest. #sorrynotsorry.

V. Put your money where your mouth is

Granted, this post has been about talk, but genuine sincerity trumps slick lines any day. I’m of the creed that’s immune to sugarcoated sweet-talk.

Oh, and if you tell me, “we have to talk“, don’t wait for me to confront you a year later on the subway platform. Boys walk away; Real men walk the talk.


Give me rain, I’ll show you dance.

In life, Love, XX & XY on December 18, 2011 at 1:57 am

Rain On Me

It’s been 8 months since I’ve written for myself; the kind of writing that is indulging. I admit, I’ve been bottling up, and now? Now I’ve ran out of bottles…

8 months have passed, and perhaps the biggest change is that I’ve learned to genuinely feel again. Silly, because I’ve always felt, certainly, I’ve felt deeply since my very first memory, and I have an impeccable memory. I remember everything, even the moments I’d rather have not lived; it’s a blessing and a curse.

Through with the generalities, the problem – my problem(s) – with being so acutely and intensely sensitive, is that it’s actually tormenting to live, and exponentially worse to love. You see, I have a tendency to fall for the wrong people, and when I do, I give and love so intensely that I get blinded, derailed, and there’s no one there to catch me. Did I mention I fall for the wrong men? Legitimacy is so overrated.

I gave myself into love and into madness. Yet I never gave myself a chance to be loved. The moment someone confesses serious feelings for me is the moment I fly away, you can almost count on that. I’m a free spirit that will not be caged. If you want to keep me, don’t date me. That’s what I always say I’ve always said.

But that’s changed…

I’m in love. It’s scary for me to say this, because I’m going out of my comfort zone – and as a performing artist and trained actress, that’s a pretty big zone – if I could figuratively pinpoint a place where I feel I’m at, I would say Siberia… Yeah… I’m that far out of my world. But don’t judge just yet, because I have a vague idea of how ridiculous this equation is… chasing dreams in NYC + in love = Siberia. Under the circumstances, I can forgive you for not believing me, but really, I’ve always excelled at math…

Maybe Siberia has rainbows and butterflies, too, you know. But I’m really not trying to make it sound like Venice or Vienna or any other romantic, exotic, happening place. I say Siberia because, well, I hate to repeat myself, but I fall for the wrong men. Okay, so things haven’t changed completely…but enough.

Enough to make me feel, for the first time in my life, intoxicated in love. Only weeks ago, did I experience one of the deepest pains of loss. In darkness and isolation, I was mourning, yet when he spoke, his presence was like a ray of sunshine that penetrated right through me… he was like air, lifting me out of darkness, and making me breathe again.  I felt my world was a 2D black and white image compared to the kaleidoscope of colours that I see through him. I felt so much I’ve never felt before, and I wanted to feel more… I suddenly realized that when I gave myself into love before, I gave up what I deserved.

And perhaps by being in love this time, I’m doing it again, and perhaps I wouldn’t even come out whole, but even then, even with all the pain and hurt that is inevitable, I am surrendering myself, with reckless abandonment. Because it’s worth the trip; it’s the only trip that ever really matters.

So rain down on me, pour it all out on me. Some people stay idle to wait for the storm to pass, but I dance with every raindrop that falls. I’ll even throw away my umbrella, so that I could be completely free to embrace all that there is, so that I could catch it all. I won’t run towards shelter, or hide under a bridge… I will dance with the rain, to the rhythm of the storm, let passion decide each turn and the wind choreograph each twirl. I will captivate love, the way you’ve had it captivate me, and I will be ever-electrifying.


Weeding “the Field”

In XX & XY on February 20, 2011 at 5:31 am

XX vs. Type Bruno

My high school best friend just got married to her high school sweetheart of seven years last night, on her 23rd birthday – it was a beautiful union. I, on the other hand, have not yet experienced a relationship that surpassed 7 months (or half that, actually)… so… I’m not at all qualified to talk about (serious, romantic) relationships or the sort, but I write about what I know, and I know the market.

You’d be mistaken to think that I’m a commitmophobe/commitaphobe, because my art owns my heart. Instead of boys, I chase my dreams, wherever they lead me, and it’s difficult to find a partner who’s as daring, driven, or unattached. 8 years and counting, you can say that I’ve tread through my share of fields. By virtue of my travels, I can even talk about it on a global level… In fact, a close friend suggested that I should start an anonymous blog for the sole purpose of recording my (colourful/aka terrible, around-the-world) dating experiences – something along the lines of “the secret diaries of a modern nomad”, or “the globe-trotting serial-dater”… He thinks it’ll be a huge hit – coming from someone in the news/media industry, I was flattered. But that’s not the point.

Jane Austen may have given me unrealistic expectations of love, but “field-training” certainly killed my naivety. I can snatch out the cheaters, the liars, and the unfaithful quicker and more accurate than most of my friends, certainly, most of those in-relationships. I can drop this tip with regret, that when there is a discrepancy between the “truths” offered by your honey vs. your friend, and you dismiss your friend…chances are, you’re being played. Nonetheless, it varies by case.

The market is complicated nowadays. What does it mean to be “together” or “dating”? Can you “see” someone else when you are already “seeing someone”? Is “dealing” an exclusive thing? So many loose definitions, a dictionary would come in handy here. Generally speaking, ladies hate the gray-zone, but gray-zone seems to be green-zone for a good amount of men out there. No commitments, no strings attached, no obligations … at least that’s the way they’ve got it worked out in their heads – on both ends.

Speaking of green, I’m anti-recycling on the field. Find a new patch – it ain’t hard. Moving on is good for you – and those around you. “See” a girl, then take the virginity of her close friend? Messaging the two of them on the same night years later because you’re that needy? Bruno, you’re a model of a cheap pathetic douche. I should have un-friended you 4 years ago when I caught you lying the first time. Just GTFO of my life – you’re polluting the field.