When I first invite friends over to my house, I give them directions for the longer route. These directions include main roads that everyone knows and landmarks that are real landmarks. I tell them to turn left at Euro Bank. I do not tell them to turn right at the pink house where my high school crush lived.
There are few people who have insisted I give them shortcut directions on their first time. Without fail, it’s taken them longer to get here. They inevitably get lost, frustrated and arrive saying: “Where on earth do you live? I have no idea where I am.”
But for all the rest, it’s only when they’ve been to my over ten times, once I’ve shown them my favourite roads, taken them for a walk on the mountain, explained where we are to the rest of Athens, that I’ll mention the short cut.
“You know, you can also come this way. It’s much faster and there’s less traffic.”
I’ll even show them when I’m in the car with them. I’ll point out my mnemonics. .
“See this absurd house that is trying really hard to be the Parthenon? It’s just plain wrong. Wrong house, you turn right.”
So for the life of me I can’t understand the reason that I don’t apply the same logic in dating? Why did I spend all of my 20s, trying to take a shortcut to a relationship?
I slept with men before I trusted them, I shared my past openly to create a forced connection and I showed them all my secrets to create a false sense of intimacy.
And then I was shocked when these men seemed lost, confused and said, “This is just too much work.”
You don’t get where you’ve never been by taking a shortcut you’ve never taken. The long, slow road to my house is so much easier to get to than its shortcut. The shortcut may be faster but there are dozens of potholes and one very dangerous blind spot. If you’ve never been on this road, it’s so easy to miss the stop sign.
And when it comes to dating, the stop signs I never saw while I happily pursued my shortcut, are the ones that would have saved me from so much sadness.
Are you guilty of taking shortcuts to a relationship? Did you miss the stop signs?
Posted in on love & romance, on self-discovery
Over curry and wine, I told Alexia about the two hours I spent feeling completely sorry for myself on Sunday.
“Lordy! I was such a drama queen,” I said rolling my eyes at myself, “I closed all my blinds, switched off every light, got into bed and threw the covers over my head furiously.”
“How did you get over it?”
“I don’t know, I was just lying there woe-is-me-ing and I remembered that I had some leftover chocolate from Christmas. By the time I got up and found it, I’d kinda lost interest in being sad.”
I giggle when I remember the things I’ve said in my life. “He’s ripped my heart out.” Really, self? Your chest cavity looks pretty intact to me. “I will never send him a text message again!” Really, self? Then why are you clutching your phone like it’s your life source? “I’m so over men. I’m not dating anyone ever.NEVER!” Beep beep. “Teehee, he replied. Aw, he’s the best.”
Melodrama: I nail it all the time. Just like these poor souls.
I wish that when I was in one of those moods, someone could be on hand with the most random filtered photo, some helvetica and a rebuttal that’ll make me laugh at myself sooner, rather than later.
Are you melodramatic? What ridiculous things have you said in the moment?
Posted in on happiness, on self-discovery
Last night I found myself at an exclusive resort. Someone was getting married and everyone I have ever met in my life was there. They were all in different rooms having fun, except for me. I was running through a long, dark hall way searching for someone; a diaphanous scarf billowed behind me as I ran. When I reached the end, I pushed open a door and sun light exploded into my eyes.
That’s when I saw him.
He was on a mellow yellow inflatable lounge chair floating in a turquoise pool. In one hand, he had a cocktail; his other was leisurely picking a peanut out of a bowl perched on the arm rest. I watched him as I doubled over, clutching my stomach and trying to catch my breath. Finally, he noticed me. He gave me a half of a side nod and gestured for me to join him.
I walked into the pool, my dress rising in the water around me and got on the inflatable chair. I curled myself into him and fell asleep. He didn’t move. Not even once. Not even a little.
The last thing I remember before waking up in my own bed and dripping in sweat was that part of my butt, ankles and hair were off the lounger and submerged in water: he hadn’t made any room for me.
I’m not surprised by this dream. When I was dating, I was that girl. I went too far and cared too much for the guys that didn’t want me. I spent sleepless nights thinking about all the reasons they didn’t want to be my boyfriend. I even wrote posts about it. I wanted to find a way to persuade these men to want me. Most of the time, this meant adjusting my own wants, and my own likes to fit their wants.
When I saw that there was too much hurt in my heart, I opted to let that hurt heal before I dated again. I didn’t quite declare an official man-hiatus, it just happened. I’d invested so much on other relationships that I’d forgotten the relationship I had with myself. My focus is on me and me now.
The other day I was listening to Derek from Social Triggers interview Ramit from I Will Teach You To Be Rich.
I was only half listening when Ramit said something so relevant to my dating life that I stopped playing Words with Friends and paid attention.
He said that he spends a lot of time telling people to unsubscribe from his site.
He explained that he works really hard on his material and that he wants readers who will spend an equal amount of time using it. He respects and values their time. If they don’t engage in it in the way it’s intended, he won’t be able to help them. He’d just be wasting their time.
“I’ve always been very clear- I’m not looking for everyone; I’m just looking for the right people.”
That’s exactly what dating is; looking for the right person. So why did I spend so much time trying to please the wrong men? Why didn’t I just tell them to unsubscribe from my life and find a better fit with someone else?
I continued listening to the interview. A while later they began to talk about pricing. Ramit suggested that you create the best product you can and then charge for what it’s worth.
Bells started ringing in my ears. When I was dating, I wasn’t charging for my worth. I took what I could get. And when you’re offering something for free, that’s what you usually get in return –nothing.
Last week, Danielle Laporte had a pay what you can day. The idea is that you offer her what you have. It’s a sweet deal. But, then I noticed something inspiring. In the small print she wrote that she reserved the right to deny your offer if she felt it was too low.
Girl crush alert! Now there’s a woman that respects herself and her work. She knows exactly what she’s worth and she’s not afraid to ask for it.
Then there’s me. I’m the girl who let guys off the hook when they didn’t follow through their words with actual action. I was over-forgiving. I’d let them come over, eat my food, sleep on my couch AND get mad at me because I wanted to talk to them. Inevitably, I’d end up apologizing (to them and myself) for wanting too much. I’m not cheap but that’s the way I acted.
(Can I go back in time and slap myself please?)
I’m not that woman anymore. Now I’m quite happy to let a man unsubscribe from my life if I see we’re not the right fit. I’m not looking for everyone. I’m looking for the right person. I’m also beginning to judge my own worth (it’s neither inflated nor deflated) and I’m convinced that when the time comes I’ll charge the right amount for what I have to offer.
I’m also not the woman in that dream anymore. Now, I’m quite happy to tell a man to get out of my face and off of my sun lounger if the only thing he has to offer me are peanuts.
Your thoughts?
Posted in on love & romance, on self-discovery
Two months ago, I asked a photographer friend to take a few photos of me. I’d done some work for him last year and he wanted to repay the favour through some professional photos.
By the time we’d found a day that suited us both, I’d gone to the far ends of insecurity. For an entire week before the shoot, I would look at myself in the mirror and cringe at something. It started off normally. By that I mean, I cringed at something I was already insecure about. As the week progressed and the date got closer, I went off the deep end. I hate my eyebrows. My eyelashes are too short. And why are my eyes so round? Why aren’t my cheekbones sticking out more? I’ve put on weight, the world is ending.
I almost cancelled because what if I smile too big and my smile is all gums and teeth? WHAT THEN?
I didn’t because I managed to go back over to a sane place. But not for long.
The shoot was half part fun and half part uncomfortable. By the time I felt more fun and less uncomfortable, it was over. That night he sent me 40 pictures. I downloaded the file, opened the first one and burst into tears.
“I’m horrible. HORRIBLE.” I wrote to a friend. I could hear her sigh from the other side of Athens. My mother came over at that moment and I burst into tears again and gave this explanation:
“All of my friends got married this year (sob) and they got all their pictures taken (sob) and they looked so beautiful (sob) and happy (sob, sob) and I just wanted to have the same photos but I’m single (sob) and my photos are terrible (sob).”
I could see her holding in a laugh. “Honey,” she said, “It was their wedding day. Of course your photos aren’t going to look the same. They were wearing a beautiful white gown and a veil. You were wearing leggings.”
I channeled my inner teenager, huffed and said: “You don’t understand.”
Alexia came over the next day. I opened the door and burst into tears again. She hugged me and then said, “Show me the scene of the crime.” (She didn’t say that, but she should have.)
Together we looked through the photos.
“Eleni, I’m going to be honest.” she paused, “You’re a nutcase.” (She didn’t say that either, but she should have.) Yes, some of these are bad. They don’t look like you. You look really uncomfortable. But this one, and this one, and this one. They’re beautiful.”
By the time she’d left, I was able to find four photos that I didn’t hate. They were the four that he took when I wasn’t paying attention to the camera. The one that’s on the sidebar of this blog, is the one where my sister was telling me a joke about grammar. The more I look at them now, the more comfortable I am with the girl in the photos.
I share this story as an answer to myself. The answer is: be real with your friends, tell the embarrassing truth of the way you feel to your mother and remember that you’re at your most beautiful when you’re being yourself.
Have you figured out the question yet? It’s this:
What do you do to keep your insecurities in check?
Posted in on self-discovery
There are too many people I know planning for their Plan Bs. They’re starting to research their exit strategies. Those who have the means are considering Australia, others South Africa, America or England. I’ve heard of some who want to go to Paris, Belgium, Germany.
“But Germans hate Greeks now?” I say.
“What are we supposed to do? That’s were the jobs are.”
They’re looking for work. They say it’ll be easier. I think they mean that somewhere else would be stable. My sister tells me that she’s thinking of leaving too. If she leaves, my nephews will probably have to go with their mother and father, right? I can’t contemplate my life without them in it. But I’d let my heart-break –I’d welcome it- for those two little boys to have all the opportunities I’ve had in my life.
I speak to my best friend who’s self-employed: “I work all the time, all the time! Then suddenly I woke up one morning and I realized I didn’t have enough money. I don’t know if I can pay all my vendors. I haven’t slept in two months, Eleni.”
She’s not the first person to tell me she doesn’t sleep. I’m like a zombie mom. I have no baby but I’m up every two hours. Is anyone sleeping anymore?
Another friend has just had her second wage cut in a year.
“Keep your head down and carry on working.” they tell her, “At least, you have a job.”
She smiles diplomatically but I see the fear in her eyes, “But for how long?” She’s looking for a second source of income. She does it enthusiastically. I don’t know where she’ll find the time. There are only so many hours you can work. But we’re not sleeping so I guess, that’s when she’ll work.
My mother and I go to our local haberdashery. On our way down, she collects our day old bread, leftovers from Christmas, and she puts them in a shopping bag. They’re for the boy with the old smile at the traffic light. He came to Greece from Pakistan for a better life. I think of musical chairs. We’re all running in circles, but there are no chairs left. When the music stops, where will we all go?
It’s a dark and cloudy day. I walk to the store and I notice that the lights are off.
“Are you open?” I say pushing the door and peeking my head inside.
“Of course we are, kopela mou, just trying to save money.”
It’s darker inside than it is outside. All the colourful yarn and sparkly buttons hurt my eyes.
We return home and as we’re walking up our driveway a man in his 40s walks toward us. I’m immediately on guard. I eye him up suspiciously.
“I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Costa. I live in the neighbourhood.”
He gives us his address. Street name. House number. He tells us his story. Lost his job in sales a year ago. His wife lost her job a few months later. I don’t remember what she did. They’ve got two children. School age. Priest told him about the charity of others. Suggested he offer his services.
“I can throw out your trash. I’m good with my hands. I can fix things for you. I can water your plants. Anything you need.” He begins to cry. “I just need enough to feed my family.”
My mother throws her purse into my arms and takes his hands in hers and her eyes fill up with tears and she tells him that God is great and that we’ve been through worse and we’ll get through this too.
I don’t make eye contact. I don’t believe in God. I hide behind my mother like I did when I was a 5-year-old girl.
She never let’s go of his hands. She turns her head and addresses me, but she never stops looking at him, “Go get all the change you have.”
I do as I’m told. I rush into my flat and raid through all my secret money spots. All I have is five euros in one, five, ten, twenty, fifty cents. The loot feels heavy in my hand. It all feels so heavy that I have to sit still for a while. My mother comes looking for me because I’m taking too long.
“Here, take it.” I say. I can’t face him. I can’t give it to him myself. I want to cry in private.
I sit in front of my computer. An article about Greece catches my eyes on the Huffington Post. I read the comments.
“Greece…the armpit of Europe.”
“Let Greece go in the toilet where it belongs.”
“[Laziness], it’s the Greek national disease.”
“If Greece was wiped off the face of the earth, would we care?”
“Ef em, cut them off the euro, cut them out of the EU, and take a nuclear chain saw and cut them off Europe.”
As I read, images flash in my mind. I see my friends, the boy with the old smile, my nephews’ faces; I see my mother comforting a stranger. I want to cry. I will myself to cry.
But I can’t. There are too many stories to be told. And I can’t work, I can’t see the words on the screen with tears in my eyes.
I don’t cry. Instead, I close the window with those callous comments, I raise my head higher than before and I keep working. Because I’m Greek. And that is what Greeks do.
All stories written proudly IN GREECE by Eleni Zoe.
All images produced proudly IN GREECE by Peter Economides.
If you liked this post, you’ll also want to read:
The Small Country That Will
Posted in must reads
I found this darling blog the other night and instantly fell in love with Alex’s illustrations and his thoughts on stuff no-one ever told him about people, the world and life. These are only a few of the ones that made me laugh and nod along in recognition.
I wish someone had told me all of these when I was younger. I would have been able to understand myself better, said hello to more people and avoided some other people altogether. At least I know them now.
I read somewhere that our lives are too short for us to learn all the lessons and that’s the reason we should listen and learn from each other.
Share the knowledge: What are some stuff no-one told you about people, relationships, LIFE that you KNOW today?
Posted in on self-discovery
Hi, I’m Eleni Zoe, a romantically-challenged writer trying to get to know myself. I write about the stuff we usually only share when the lights are off.
I also ask a lot of questions.
If you want to discover the perks (& detriments) of a self-examined life, sit down, light up and get ready to know yourself too.
Want to know more? Get started here.
If you like what you read you can sign up for weekly updates. It's free!
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