...whether it is a Prince or a Frog? Or a Princess or Miss Frog?
Is it because he or she is the perfect materialization of your lifelong dreams...or is it something entirely different?
And, more importantly...can a Frog transform itself into a Prince, given the right conditions?
And again: why is it that so many men are happy with Miss Frogs, and stop looking for their Princess?
I am still waiting here; looking for your answers, to help me find answers as well. Write to me. Frogs, Princes, Miss Frogs, Princesses, anything in between. Write to me.
Tuesday, 24 June 2008
Friday, 20 June 2008
Stunned by a stunner
After reading the two stories from Hawaii, a friend of mine asked me if they are true. When I said that of course they are (and my sister knows very well, as after each story I would call home - which was very, very far away - to drown my sorrows) she replied that this guy must have had some serious issues.
Now, to clarify things: this guy was charming, smart, well-traveled, well-educated, and successful. He only had one major issue: he could not pick one woman.
As he himself put it one evening as we were returning home from school, half jokingly but more than half serious: "There are so many women in the world. How am I supposed to be satisfied with one only?".
At the time, I sort of laughed about it, thinking it a joke. Little did I know that this would become the major issue for years to come. Or the reason why I decided I was done with boyfriends for a very long time. Until I found one that made me change my mind. But that's another story.
Yes, the guy could not choose. A kid with too many toys: how are you supposed to pick?
So, every once in a while, when things seemed to be going well, when my life in the New Continent seemed to be proceeding just fine, a bomb would come out. Something along the lines of "I am not so sure" or "I might have some doubts".
What would a sensible, strong woman do in such circumstances (i.e. what would I do today, in the assumption that I became such woman)? Dump him immediately, and find better.
But no. I was young, I was lost in a new life, I thought it was just a phase, so I hung in there. Hoping the summer skies would clear up all the doubts and all would go well. But some dreams never come true, and many times, it is just for the best.
And then, there were the times when he got convinced. The times when he was sure, really sure. And he would shower this certainty on me as if it was the best present ever. One example will be enough for you to understand what I mean.
An ocean between us, he is working abroad for some months. One Sunday morning he calls me from a European city. He is having brunch. Immediately I am filled with nostalgy at the memory of little cobblestone squares, church bells, flowers on balconies, croissants. The longing for those miniature European corners that are so full of charm, and that my new world, with its great open spaces, cannot give me.
He is having brunch at a cafè, and we chat for a while. Then he says, "I have some great news for you". Mmmm. A surprise visit? A nice present? An invitation?
No. He continues: "As I was having brunch a little while ago, I saw a woman sitting at a nearby table. And I tell you, she was a stunner. Beautiful. Amazing-looking. And I looked at her. And I thought...I don't want to be with her. I just want to be with you".
He tells me this with the pride and contentment of a kid who finally decided that he would play with the little red train.
He is happy.
I am shocked.
Utterly silenced.
I am stunned.
Stunned by a stunner.
Now, to clarify things: this guy was charming, smart, well-traveled, well-educated, and successful. He only had one major issue: he could not pick one woman.
As he himself put it one evening as we were returning home from school, half jokingly but more than half serious: "There are so many women in the world. How am I supposed to be satisfied with one only?".
At the time, I sort of laughed about it, thinking it a joke. Little did I know that this would become the major issue for years to come. Or the reason why I decided I was done with boyfriends for a very long time. Until I found one that made me change my mind. But that's another story.
Yes, the guy could not choose. A kid with too many toys: how are you supposed to pick?
So, every once in a while, when things seemed to be going well, when my life in the New Continent seemed to be proceeding just fine, a bomb would come out. Something along the lines of "I am not so sure" or "I might have some doubts".
What would a sensible, strong woman do in such circumstances (i.e. what would I do today, in the assumption that I became such woman)? Dump him immediately, and find better.
But no. I was young, I was lost in a new life, I thought it was just a phase, so I hung in there. Hoping the summer skies would clear up all the doubts and all would go well. But some dreams never come true, and many times, it is just for the best.
And then, there were the times when he got convinced. The times when he was sure, really sure. And he would shower this certainty on me as if it was the best present ever. One example will be enough for you to understand what I mean.
An ocean between us, he is working abroad for some months. One Sunday morning he calls me from a European city. He is having brunch. Immediately I am filled with nostalgy at the memory of little cobblestone squares, church bells, flowers on balconies, croissants. The longing for those miniature European corners that are so full of charm, and that my new world, with its great open spaces, cannot give me.
He is having brunch at a cafè, and we chat for a while. Then he says, "I have some great news for you". Mmmm. A surprise visit? A nice present? An invitation?
No. He continues: "As I was having brunch a little while ago, I saw a woman sitting at a nearby table. And I tell you, she was a stunner. Beautiful. Amazing-looking. And I looked at her. And I thought...I don't want to be with her. I just want to be with you".
He tells me this with the pride and contentment of a kid who finally decided that he would play with the little red train.
He is happy.
I am shocked.
Utterly silenced.
I am stunned.
Stunned by a stunner.
Thursday, 19 June 2008
Frog or Prince? That is the question
Good morning. A sleepy Cardamom Tea Girl writes today, wishing she was outside finally enjoying the sun instead of being locked up in a building.
My last post yesterday prompted a discussion with a male friend, one who is costantly looking for his Princess and is continuously disappointed. His latest frog, a Scandinavian one, left his heart in a thousand pieces. However, after many months, he still believes she is The One.
And thus my Thousand Dollars Question of the day, which kept me awake all night (well, part of the night): How do we know when we have found The One? How can we be sure?
So many times I heard people saying: he/she is The One. Only to be disappointed a while later.
Other times, I heard people saying: this is just a fling. And then, it turns out to be the right person.
What is the difference between a frog and a prince?
Don't leave me alone in this dilemma. Write to me...
My last post yesterday prompted a discussion with a male friend, one who is costantly looking for his Princess and is continuously disappointed. His latest frog, a Scandinavian one, left his heart in a thousand pieces. However, after many months, he still believes she is The One.
And thus my Thousand Dollars Question of the day, which kept me awake all night (well, part of the night): How do we know when we have found The One? How can we be sure?
So many times I heard people saying: he/she is The One. Only to be disappointed a while later.
Other times, I heard people saying: this is just a fling. And then, it turns out to be the right person.
What is the difference between a frog and a prince?
Don't leave me alone in this dilemma. Write to me...
Wednesday, 18 June 2008
Frogs and Princesses...
This is not a story but just a comment - therefore the different font.
As I was describing my blog to a male friend, it came to my mind that not only women struggle to find their Prince...it must be equally hard for guys to find their Princess. Correct?
Therefore, guys, I am looking for your comments and stories as well. Do not be shy. Write to me.
Personally, I have always been amazed at how many cute, interesting and nice guys end up with really mean and boring women. Is it because guys stop looking for their Princess? Why is it that so many wonderful women out there are still single? I know so many - from Romania to Tanzania to South Korea to Italy to the US to Argentina. Where are the Princes? Why aren't they looking for us?
Food for thought.
Time for my cardamom tea now. As my nickname says, I happen to love it...
As I was describing my blog to a male friend, it came to my mind that not only women struggle to find their Prince...it must be equally hard for guys to find their Princess. Correct?
Therefore, guys, I am looking for your comments and stories as well. Do not be shy. Write to me.
Personally, I have always been amazed at how many cute, interesting and nice guys end up with really mean and boring women. Is it because guys stop looking for their Princess? Why is it that so many wonderful women out there are still single? I know so many - from Romania to Tanzania to South Korea to Italy to the US to Argentina. Where are the Princes? Why aren't they looking for us?
Food for thought.
Time for my cardamom tea now. As my nickname says, I happen to love it...
Cold in Waikiki Beach
Paradise. Scene Two. Ready? Go!
Waikiki Beach, Hawaii. A few days after the "bagel" incident.
After removing such episode from my mind (after all, if you have experience with frogs you know that the only way out is to try to forget what bothers you and move on), my boyfriend and I are strolling along the beach at sunset.
After a day of sun and sea, things look good. The light is perfect. A guitar is playing in the background. The restaurants are getting ready to welcome people. Candlelights flicker in the warm wind. I love Hawaii.
We walk hand in hand on the beach, savouring the moment.
It is warm, but the evening breeze makes me shiver, so I decide to wear my light sweater over my nice dress.
We keep walking.
A couple walks towards us, in the opposite direction, looking happy and romantic. The guy laughs at something that the girl says. They don't even look at us. They are involved in their own world.
Suddenly my boyfriend lets go of my hand and mumbles:
"Are you cold?".
Dreamily I reply: "A bit, yes. That's why I put my sweater on. The wind is a bit chilly".
He looks slightly troubled. Don't ask me why. I ignore his look and proceed, my eyes fixed on the glorious sunset.
He insists: "But it's not really so cold. Couldn't you take that sweater off?".
Now I am really puzzled. What on earth could be the matter?
"Why would I need to take my sweater off when I'm cold?".
"Nothing, I was just thiking...", he replies.
I know I can go both ways. Keep ignoring this, or start asking questions. Well, I am 24 years old at this time, and I don't know many things that I know now. So, guess what: I ask questions. I inquire. I demand to know. I insist.
And the final, irrevocable, unbelievable answer follows:
"Well, you see...when that couple walked towards us, they did not even look at us. In fact, the guy did not even look at you. And probably he did not look at you because you were wearing that sweater. If you had not been wearing the sweater, you'd have looked much more sexy in the dress, and surely the guy would have looked at you. And it makes me feel so good to have other guys look at you, appreciate you because you look sexy....but this cannot happen while you have the sweater on. Are you sure you are so cold?".
Call me stupid, because I was. I should have dumped him there and then. First the asymmetrical face, then the sweater. All of this, in one of the most romantic places on earth.
But I did not dump him. I called my sister to complain, yes, of course, that same evening. And she herself can tell you what she thought (and still thinks) of this guy. But I stayed with him. For three more years. Why, oh why, can we be so naive?
In Waikiki beach, in a glorious sunset evening, my Paradise was lost.
Waikiki Beach, Hawaii. A few days after the "bagel" incident.
After removing such episode from my mind (after all, if you have experience with frogs you know that the only way out is to try to forget what bothers you and move on), my boyfriend and I are strolling along the beach at sunset.
After a day of sun and sea, things look good. The light is perfect. A guitar is playing in the background. The restaurants are getting ready to welcome people. Candlelights flicker in the warm wind. I love Hawaii.
We walk hand in hand on the beach, savouring the moment.
It is warm, but the evening breeze makes me shiver, so I decide to wear my light sweater over my nice dress.
We keep walking.
A couple walks towards us, in the opposite direction, looking happy and romantic. The guy laughs at something that the girl says. They don't even look at us. They are involved in their own world.
Suddenly my boyfriend lets go of my hand and mumbles:
"Are you cold?".
Dreamily I reply: "A bit, yes. That's why I put my sweater on. The wind is a bit chilly".
He looks slightly troubled. Don't ask me why. I ignore his look and proceed, my eyes fixed on the glorious sunset.
He insists: "But it's not really so cold. Couldn't you take that sweater off?".
Now I am really puzzled. What on earth could be the matter?
"Why would I need to take my sweater off when I'm cold?".
"Nothing, I was just thiking...", he replies.
I know I can go both ways. Keep ignoring this, or start asking questions. Well, I am 24 years old at this time, and I don't know many things that I know now. So, guess what: I ask questions. I inquire. I demand to know. I insist.
And the final, irrevocable, unbelievable answer follows:
"Well, you see...when that couple walked towards us, they did not even look at us. In fact, the guy did not even look at you. And probably he did not look at you because you were wearing that sweater. If you had not been wearing the sweater, you'd have looked much more sexy in the dress, and surely the guy would have looked at you. And it makes me feel so good to have other guys look at you, appreciate you because you look sexy....but this cannot happen while you have the sweater on. Are you sure you are so cold?".
Call me stupid, because I was. I should have dumped him there and then. First the asymmetrical face, then the sweater. All of this, in one of the most romantic places on earth.
But I did not dump him. I called my sister to complain, yes, of course, that same evening. And she herself can tell you what she thought (and still thinks) of this guy. But I stayed with him. For three more years. Why, oh why, can we be so naive?
In Waikiki beach, in a glorious sunset evening, my Paradise was lost.
Tuesday, 17 June 2008
Honolulu Baby
Honolulu, Hawaii. What's better than that? A wonderful brunch place facing the sea. Warm wind, soft breeze, wonderful morning light. Seagulls flying over my head. My boyfriend sits across from me, sunglasses on, looking happy and sexy. This is my graduation holiday, a fully deserved one, and the place is just amazing.
As I order a fresh bagel and a pineapple juice, I look into my boyfriend's eyes (well, sunglasses) in a dream-like way. Everything seems just perfect.
He looks back at me, but his look is a bit troubled. In fact, I wake up from my hazy beatitude to realize that he is making small, disapproving sounds with his mouth. Looking at me.
What could possibly be the problem? Can there be problems in Paradise? Apparently, yes.
My boyfriend keeps making "tsk" noises until I finally blurt out, "what's wrong?".
Annoyed, he replies: "Nothing wrong with me".
"Then why do you keep making those sounds?", I have to ask.
Silence.
Oh, no. Silence? Silence in Paradise? Something IS wrong. Part of me wants to ignore him, forget the whole thing, go run to the beach, start swimming, leave him behind, him and his noises and whatever is wrong. I don't feel like putting up with it.
Yet I have to. Something (masochism?) compels me to insist. So I ask again. "You have to tell me what's wrong now".
After fifteen minutes of back and forth (while in the meantime my nice warm bagel gets cold, as of course my hunger has disappeared) he finally admits:
"Well, nothing is wrong with me, but something is a bit wrong with you. Nothing major of course, and I think I should not even tell you, but you have been insisting so much. You see, I was studying your face and your profile from this perspective, and I can't help but noticing that it is not very symmetrical. It's funny, your nose is a bit long, your chin comes out a lot, and your eyes are kind of small...obviously you do look ok, but if one looks at your face closely, there are these things that come out...I did not even realize I was making noises. In any case, nobody's perfect! Bon appetit!".
And smiling a devilish smile, he bites at his bagel, oblivious to my utter desperation.
My Prince would never say such a thing to me. My Prince would love my face even if my eyes are too small and my chin is too long.
But then....then I am in Paradise with yet another Frog.
Heart of mine, be strong.
As I order a fresh bagel and a pineapple juice, I look into my boyfriend's eyes (well, sunglasses) in a dream-like way. Everything seems just perfect.
He looks back at me, but his look is a bit troubled. In fact, I wake up from my hazy beatitude to realize that he is making small, disapproving sounds with his mouth. Looking at me.
What could possibly be the problem? Can there be problems in Paradise? Apparently, yes.
My boyfriend keeps making "tsk" noises until I finally blurt out, "what's wrong?".
Annoyed, he replies: "Nothing wrong with me".
"Then why do you keep making those sounds?", I have to ask.
Silence.
Oh, no. Silence? Silence in Paradise? Something IS wrong. Part of me wants to ignore him, forget the whole thing, go run to the beach, start swimming, leave him behind, him and his noises and whatever is wrong. I don't feel like putting up with it.
Yet I have to. Something (masochism?) compels me to insist. So I ask again. "You have to tell me what's wrong now".
After fifteen minutes of back and forth (while in the meantime my nice warm bagel gets cold, as of course my hunger has disappeared) he finally admits:
"Well, nothing is wrong with me, but something is a bit wrong with you. Nothing major of course, and I think I should not even tell you, but you have been insisting so much. You see, I was studying your face and your profile from this perspective, and I can't help but noticing that it is not very symmetrical. It's funny, your nose is a bit long, your chin comes out a lot, and your eyes are kind of small...obviously you do look ok, but if one looks at your face closely, there are these things that come out...I did not even realize I was making noises. In any case, nobody's perfect! Bon appetit!".
And smiling a devilish smile, he bites at his bagel, oblivious to my utter desperation.
My Prince would never say such a thing to me. My Prince would love my face even if my eyes are too small and my chin is too long.
But then....then I am in Paradise with yet another Frog.
Heart of mine, be strong.
Looking for stories, girls!
And so here I am, the late afternoon light coming into the window with a glimpse of the sun which has been hiding for too long. Finally I have started my blog. I am no writer and I will just write as my thoughts flow to my mind, so bear with me in this new adventure.
They say women have to meet and kiss many frogs before finally finding their Prince Charming. Surely, I met many frogs. Over the years I collected stories and episodes that range from the hilarious to the tragic. And then I thought: there are just too many funny stories (well, funny in retrospect, but surely not funny as I was living them) not to record them at all.
The frogs in my life, as bad as they were, deserve to be known. I deserve to be known for putting up with them. My stupidity in putting up with them deserves to be know. More importantly, I need to make sense of it, and I need to know I am not the only one who wasted years and years over men which were nothing more than frogs, but that I strongly believed were my disguised Prince Charming.
I was 14 years old when I started looking for Prince Charming. More than twenty years later, I have some stories to tell.
But this blog is not only about my own stories. I want to hear from girls and women like me who have gone through years of hoping, wanting, cursing, screaming, being disappointed, but then hoping again.
Whether you have found your Prince Charming or you are still looking for him, you have stories to share.
This blog is for us - to share our stories, to laugh, to smile, to think that we are not the only ones to be stubborn enough to keep looking for love despite all.
I will post some of my stories, but yours are welcome as well.
I believe it will be a fun adventure.
Let's start!
Cardamom Tea Girl
In a rainy city, June 2008
They say women have to meet and kiss many frogs before finally finding their Prince Charming. Surely, I met many frogs. Over the years I collected stories and episodes that range from the hilarious to the tragic. And then I thought: there are just too many funny stories (well, funny in retrospect, but surely not funny as I was living them) not to record them at all.
The frogs in my life, as bad as they were, deserve to be known. I deserve to be known for putting up with them. My stupidity in putting up with them deserves to be know. More importantly, I need to make sense of it, and I need to know I am not the only one who wasted years and years over men which were nothing more than frogs, but that I strongly believed were my disguised Prince Charming.
I was 14 years old when I started looking for Prince Charming. More than twenty years later, I have some stories to tell.
But this blog is not only about my own stories. I want to hear from girls and women like me who have gone through years of hoping, wanting, cursing, screaming, being disappointed, but then hoping again.
Whether you have found your Prince Charming or you are still looking for him, you have stories to share.
This blog is for us - to share our stories, to laugh, to smile, to think that we are not the only ones to be stubborn enough to keep looking for love despite all.
I will post some of my stories, but yours are welcome as well.
I believe it will be a fun adventure.
Let's start!
Cardamom Tea Girl
In a rainy city, June 2008
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