Zailyah is Leaving Town! (Just For A Bit)

Hi Fellow Blog Readers,

I know, I know, I was due for an entry this week, and here it is, Thursday night, and I have not yet delivered. My excuse? Italy...

...and I think that it's a pretty good one. I've been very busy preparing for my trip, so while I love all things Manhattan, I do admit that my mind has been drifting off lately to thoughts of cool gelato, small piazzas, peaceful sunsets and beautiful men.

Of course, you know how the old adage goes: You can take the girl out of Manhattan, but you can't---

Or can you?

More updates when I get back :)

Taking A Bite Out Of The Big Apple

Welcome to The Garden of Ego

I dare you—yes, you—to walk up to that guy at the other end of the bar and see if you can get him to buy you a drink. The fact that you already have a beer in your hand is irrelevant. Let’s be honest, it’s not the drink that you’re after.

Then again, it may not be the guy either.

We move to New York City because we want it all—the high-paying job, spacious apartment, and, to complete the package, the trophy guy (who also happens to be compassionate, exciting, loyal and witty—not too much to ask). All of these factors somehow contribute to our happiness. The more that we are able to achieve here, the better we feel about ourselves. To put it bluntly—forget the Big Apple. This is the city of the Big Ego. Period.

But sometimes, the ego isn’t about what you have. Rather, it’s about what you could have—if you really wanted it. Think about it. Aren’t there those times when you flirt with someone not because you want a relationship or even a hook-up, but just because you want to see if that person will be receptive to you on a sexual level? In New York City, flirting is a favorite sport, and once we’ve realized that the (excuse the pun) ball is in our court, we may begin to lose interest in the guy. In our mind, whether or not anything happens may not matter. Just knowing that if we wanted to, we could hook up with that guy, is sometimes all that we need to validate ourselves and boost our ego. And in a city that attracts so many young people similar to ourselves, ego-boosting moments may be more prevalent than we realize.

Case in point: A few months ago I went out with two of my guy friends to a bar in the East Village. My one friend, who likes to espouse his theories on mating and the male-female dynamic, kept telling me that it’s not what a guy says that ropes a girl in, it’s how he says it. Challenging him to put his theories to good use, I dared him to walk across the bar to a group of five girls and actively engage them in conversation. At best, he would get a phone number, and at worst, they would roll their eyes at him in that typical, female “why-do-you-even-bother?" way (yes, I’m guilty of it too). Fortunately, he came out somewhere in between. But in retrospect, even if he had received a phone number, he probably wouldn’t have even called—his ego would have already won.

This behavior is by no means limited to single individuals. I’ve seen people in otherwise strong relationships flirt for “food” (ego-food, that is) many a time. I went out to a bar with a few friends one night, one of whom was dating someone. This friend of mine met a really good-looking guy while she was there and ended up talking to him for the better part of the evening. When we finally left the bar, she was bothered by the fact that he didn’t get her number. “But why?” I asked. “You have a boyfriend and you wouldn’t have even picked up the phone had this guy called.” Nevertheless, even as I was saying this to her, it was obvious that we were both thinking the same thing. The reality was that she didn’t want the guy at the bar. She never wanted him—just to know that he wanted her.

Of course, there are those times when we actually do want something more than a quick ego-boost and may unexpectedly find ourselves engaging with someone who is looking for just that. It’s always a sobering and somewhat disappointing realization when the seemingly steady guy on your “relationship radar” makes it clear that he was just in it for the thrill of the chase (and capture) and didn’t actually intend to follow through with anything. He was just flirting for sport (and as for me, I’ve never been a great athlete).

In the end, I’ve come to realize that the ego doesn’t feed off of any real substance. Instead, it seeks nourishment in the grand ideas of what you as a person “could be” and or “could achieve.” The ego dines on shortcuts, small victories; someone buying you a drink, complimenting your looks, praising your intellect, or even just smiling at you and making you feel noticed.

One might say that the ego feeds off of Manhattan.

Because here, it really doesn’t matter what you do…

Just that, in theory, you could do it.

Table For One

The Art of Being Alone

Table for one, please?

This past weekend I was in DC for business, to help run an event that was supposed to take place on Saturday, 9/6 and Sunday 9/7. I arrived on Thursday, and for the next two days helped set up for the event and ensure that all logistics had been worked through prior to Saturday. However, as a result of hurricane Hanna, the event was consolidated into Sunday, giving me a full day to myself to explore DC. My one co-worker who was there with me was otherwise pre-occupied, and I realized, to my initial dismay, that I do not have any friends (I don’t think?) in DC.

It happens to all of us from time to time, whether we’re in a neighboring city, abroad, or even at home in Manhattan. We find ourselves alone at a point in time when we do not necessarily need or want to be alone. Sometimes it’s unexpected, or even unwelcome. But as single gals in the big city (and even those who are not single), it’s important that we learn the difference between being alone and being lonely. “Alone” is just a physical state of being and does not need to have a negative connotation, whereas “lonely” is a crippling state of mind. Fortunately, the good thing about a “state of mind” is that it doesn’t exist in the physical world. In other words, loneliness is all in our head.

There are, in fact, a lot of benefits to being by yourself every now and then, whether it’s the random conversation that you strike up in a museum with the cute guy beside you, the ability to dine and think only about the taste of your food, to go shopping on your own watch, or to enjoy the small, quiet moments in the day whose existence you had forgotten.

For example, I remember one weekend going solo to the MOMA. About 15 minutes into my visit, I found myself staring at a completely blue canvas that, in my humble opinion, wasn’t deserving of a space on the wall. Apparently, the good-looking gentleman next to me didn’t think so either, and we were soon in a deep conversation on non-art in prominent museums. Granted, he was from some far off place (Alaska, was it? Or do I just have politics on my mind…) and was leaving the next morning for another city, but hey, who says that the next single guy wasn’t just another exhibit away?

There was also the time in Siena, Italy when I took myself out to lunch in the center of the city, or “Piazza del Campo,” and decided to write for the afternoon. Perhaps it was the scenery around me, the Johnny Depp look-alike smoking cigarettes at the next table, or the fact that Italian food is just that good, but all of my senses were just so heightened, and I found myself observing tiny details that I would have otherwise taken for granted—like how the Italians steam their milk before they put it in their coffee, or how people take the time to eat their food as though it deserves their attention, or the incredibly thick hot chocolate that puts the brown liquid in America to shame. (Wait. Am I talking about being alone or why I love Italy? On a side note, I am going back to Italy at the end of the month—it will be the first time since my semester abroad!)

The truth is, the people with whom we associate bring out various qualities in ourselves, so that we may act more artsy-fartsy-tree-hugger with one friend and more conservative and even-keeled with another. But when you’re alone, it’s you for you. In many cases, you’re more open to new experiences and to befriending people you might otherwise overlook. When you’re by yourself, it’s up to you which qualities you want to shine that day/night, and what kinds of people you want to meet (if any at all).

And it’s not like you need to go so far as putting on your shortest dress and highest heels and positioning yourself in a bar to see which guys buy you a drink on Saturday night in DC (which was the advice of one of my friends, who said that it should be a “social experiment” that I discuss in this blog), but I am giving you permission to take yourself out to dinner one night—which I ended up doing Saturday night in Georgetown.

And as I sat eating my candied walnut and strawberry salad at La Madeleine, a charming French café and bakery, looking out at the people walking the streets that night, I felt a profound sense of peace at being by myself…

And being in such good company.

Don’t Cry Over Spilled Beer

The Girl’s Night Out Gone Wrong

In the immortal words of Dane Cook, there are some nights when we gals “just wanna dance.”

Sometimes on these nights, we may also want to meet men, shun men, catch up on one another’s lives, hear the latest gossip, have a full-out venting session, or give some face time to the hot new shoes we purchased—on sale, no less—last week.

All pay homage to the “girl’s night out,” where trips to the bathroom are a group activity and incredibly loud, high-pitched, and completely unnecessary squeals and shrieks are allowed and even encouraged throughout the course of the evening.

Of course, with so many places to go in Manhattan on any given night, it’s easy to become jaded on a girl’s night out, angered over poor service at a restaurant or aggravated by the five dollar cover charge you could swear wasn’t in place last weekend.

So for all of those girls who have been frustrated by a girl’s night out gone wrong, I think that it’s time we take a deep breath [insert breath here] and remind ourselves why we’ve remained loyal followers of this nocturnal occasion for so many years.

#1 The Girl’s Night Out Is Strictly For The Girls
Several months ago, one of my friends and I went out to a bar one night with no real intention of meeting any guys. We just wanted to catch up, grab a few beers and yes, if the music called for it, dance. But instead of leaving us to our secluded conversation, a few guys came over and attempted to dance with us. My friend and I declined simply by saying that it was a "girl’s night out." And suddenly, just like that, those three magical words became the euphemistic replacement for the three words that we really meant and didn’t feel like actually saying at the moment, that is, “I’m not interested.” (Unfortunately, we did have to translate for one or two.)

#2 The Girl’s Night Out Is A Great Time To Meet Guys
On the flip side of things, if you’re out with the girls and there is a guy that interests you, it’s okay to pull away from the larger group to speak with him. What better time to meet a guy than with an army of wing women ready to back you up? The beauty of a girl's night out is that it is endlessly versatile—depending on your intentions for the evening. And, of course, guys can never hold it against a girl if her intentions seem to change from one prospect to the next. (After all, it is called a girl’s night out for a reason. We call the shots—and drink them too.)

#3 Who Needs A Therapist When You Have This?
With drama therapy, art therapy and music therapy carving out significant spaces for themselves in the world of feeling good, why haven’t we ever formally recognized the implicitly therapeutic feel of a girl’s night out. G-NO therapy (read “g-no” not “gyno”) runs rampant all over Manhattan, and while there’s nothing so liberating as shamelessly unloading all of our weekly baggage onto our best girlfriends, it seems as though we have never given credit where credit is due. There’s no shame in therapy, especially this kind—G-NO therapy is the cheapest form of therapy in all of Manhattan.

The truth is, that in spite of those girl’s nights out gone wrong, for many of us, it’s difficult to live without them for too long without really missing them.

So the next time you embark on a girl’s night out, disregard the inebriated tiara-wearing bachelorette who spills her beer on your new shoes, the waiter who insists that you’re wrong, that the salad does not come with your dinner, or the creepy middle-aged man who “just happens” to keep placing himself near you at the bar.

All in all, it’s a small price to pay for an outing with so much potential. And at the end of evening, don’t girls just wanna have fun?

Of course they do.

And in Manhattan, we girls know how to do it best.