Being a good Catholic Italian girl and wanting to save sex for marriage, at the age of 26 and no proposals on the table, I was still a virgin. When it came to the dating scene, guys thought I was a freak and the only ones who seemed to value my virtue were me, God and Nonna. I still mourn the fact that someone worthy never came along and appreciated my love offering but I couldn’t hold out any longer. My head was going to explode with libidinal energy. So, I decided rather rationally and coolly to finally engage in sexual activity. I had a sulky boyfriend at the time. Fine. An ignoble end to my purity.
Call It Research
I figured I should do my research before I embarked, not wanting to make a fool of myself, even with him. I read a few books and then decided I should get a visual. But where would a girl get such a thing? So after prayer and contemplation, I walked into an x-rated film store with a hood pulled over my head and asked the clerk, “Do you have anything purely instructional?” He gave me three slow solid blinks, as though his eyelids were coated in wax. In a thick accent that betrayed his inability to understand what the hell I was asking he replied, “You want sex tape?” I sighed. How much more painful can this evening get? “Yes. To learn how to do it.” His eyes opened wide. He gave me a quick once over, contemplating offering a personal instructional session no doubt. “All tapes are sex. They show you.”
Ever call or write an email and it takes the person six weeks to write back? I can see six hours, okay, on a busy day. I can see six days if you don’t have access to electricity or running water. But six weeks?
It’s my own fault, really. I hate to “call to confirm,” too proud and too busy to ask twice, but that gaping absence in my mailbox leaves me filling in the blank. One week passes, “I guess this project isn’t a priority for them. Hmph!” Week two, “After all I’ve done for them, how disrespectful.” Week three, “Something’s wrong. Should I apologize? Wait a minute, I don’t know what I did!” Week four, “Are they on drugs? Are they crossing the Mexican border right now escaping the feds?” Week five passes. “Are they dying of some rare disease?” Week six, “I should really quit this business, the clients are impossible to deal with!”
“A friend should be a master at guessing and keeping still.” - Friedrich Nietzsche
Carrie says: To be honest I’ve been a rather poor friend lately, too much work, too much about me. My friends would say I am thoughtful, helpful and brave.
Danielle says: Wise cracking at all times. Especially useful at births, weddings, funerals and break-ups. Especially useless at house painting, moving and cleaning (but I’ll do it…begrudgingly…maybe…for free pizza and beer). Private, but honest.
Carrie and I had vastly different upbringings. She’s from a family of five. I’m an only child. Her parents planned. My parents partied. Her dad was a judge; mine worked in sports and recreation. But our fathers, as different as they are, both taught us the same essential life lesson: how to give a good handshake.
We’ve interviewed scores of people for potential collaborations. And in an alarming amount of cases, we knew the meeting was over before it had even begun. A poor hand is a show-stopper for us. The Limp Wrist, Floppy Fish, or Grip of Death raise questions about self-esteem, direction, and motivation. In the Western world, handshakes are a language that speaks volumes.
Criticism is a killer. It can crush good intentions and depress spirits. Some relationship experts say it’s one of the root causes of divorce. As for complaining and judgmentalness…also total downers.
But some feedback and requests must be delivered. And when it comes to communicating subjects that are sensitive to either you or the recipient – how you say it can be just as important as what you say. It doesn’t matter if you’re talking to someone who adores you, or someone who is paid to do what you tell them, the tone of your voice and the shape of your words is what will linger in their minds.
THIS WEEK: Choose one or two people in your life whom you want to communicate with more effectively. When you connect with them this week, imagine that you’re what Love is The Killer App author, Tim Sanders calls, a Love Cat. Love Cats purr, they don’t hiss. You can be filing a grievance, opposing an opinion, or laying out an ultimatum, and if you do it as if you were speaking directly into the other person’s heart, you may actually be felt and heard.
Love Cats ask nicely. Why claw when you can simply meow?
