Amy Venezia

 

Oh what a week.

 

I took a ride on an emotional rollercoaster  and when it stopped…only learned that I…well… have more to learn.

 

Sometimes I think this whole dance between men and women is nothing more than just that…a dance.

 

Twirl around…masquerade…switch partners…curtsey…get close…pull away…

 

Dance all night until the sun comes up…

 

Sit this one out because you no longer want to…

 

Dance.

 

There are some people you get with that your rhythm is perfection…no toe stepping…no awkwardness-

 

Just smooth moves…intertwined…you just intuitively know the next step…you can feel what the person is going to do next…

 

Then there are those people you get with and there is struggle…you hold that person’s hand and laugh off the awkwardness…you step on their feet and apologize over and over…but you still try…because the chemistry is enough to want to stand close enough to feel them…

 

Then there are those people that you know as soon as your essences collide that it is the most unnatural moving…contrived…not enjoyable…’when is this song ever going to end so I can get the hell out of here’ type of experience.

 

At the end of it…it is still just a dance. Where you , the other person in the equation, has full choice and power over your experience.

 

I think no matter what, it comes down to this one thing…

 

Keep dancing.

 

This is what life is about. Failing and seeing parts of yourself you need to clean up…seeing parts in another you need to find compassion for…since most likely the reason it bothers you is that you have the same parts…just in your blind spot.

 

Dance…no matter what happens in your life or how screwed up things become in this society…once the music stops? We will stop existing…I truly believe that.

 

A life without music and without the touch of another…without those awkward toe stepping moments…without that sensual, perfect,  in-sync rhythm with each other…life without these experiences is no life at all.

 

Don’t just sit on the sidelines…get in there…because the longer you sit…the more difficult it becomes to hold out your hand to a stranger and take that step to the center of your heart…

 

Hope you dance…

 

 

 

 

 

 

The TEN things I LOVE on this FRIDAY!

 

 

1. The sound an “on the rocks” drink makes…

 

 

 

2. That my 4 year old nephew still demands to hear Coldplay before he goes to sleep at night…

 

 

 

3. As cheesy as it sounds, hearing “Don’t wanna miss a thing” this week and smiling because in my 30’s,  I feel that way about life…not a man.

 

 

4. The Mahi burgers from Taco Loco in Laguna Beach, CA – Oh, how I miss them…

 

 

5. A full tank of gas, clean sheets, a just washed car…new beginnings.

 

 

6. That when my Mom and I were going back and forth in a conversation yesterday, my nephew looked at my Mom and said, “Mimi, Aunt Amy is right. Now, stop talking.” I have never laughed so hard in my life…

 

7. Dancing around my living room…:)

 

 

8. Having one of my friend’s say my back side is “ba- dunka- dunk” and that I actually took the time to go to the Urban dictionary to see what it means…

 

 

9. Hearing from my readers…

 

 

10.  Steak and frites and that soon it will be Rose’ time again…oui, oui.

 

 

 

HAPPY FRIDAY!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know my friends are expecting me to write something sarcastic about Valentine’s Day-

 

 

 

Like it is a holiday only celebrated by Douche bags and Douche baguettes.

 

 I don’t have anything against romance and love. In fact, I live my life everyday romancing myself

 

I will buy myself flowers. I will get a beautiful bottle of Bordeaux and some dark chocolate and put on some Otis Redding, just for me. I will go and buy myself something from Victoria’s Secret…just for me.

 

 

I guess over the years, I learned to start doing it for myself instead of expecting it from someone else.

 

 

I am a huge believer in romance.

 

 

What I am not a believer in, is seeing men perform like circus acts on the 14^th of February.

 

 

OR seeing women do something for their men that could be considered a “special treat” because it is Valentines Day.

 

 

I was talking to a married guy friend of mine and Valentine’s Day was brought up in the conversation.

 

He was genuinely excited about the day and I sat there thinking, “Wow…this is the first man I have seen really getting  into it.”

 

My bubble of delusion was burst minutes later to find that what he was excited about was getting a steak and (how can I say this lady like?)….his wife visiting the land down under…and I am not talking about Australia.

 

 

I have always wondered why men don’t catch on and make their lives better for themselves.

 

If they get that on February 14^th their women show up for them in ways they would like her to show up all the time…maybe they should take a look at why.

 

And maybe women should take a look at why they feel like being more sexy and demonstrative of that on February 14^th.

 

 

Could it be if men took the time and initiative to practice their romance skills throughout the year, women would take the time to give men what is important to them?

 

Women compare men to dogs all the time…but even dogs get that when they are rewarded for something they want to do it again.

 

Men want to be Kings of countries and providences…of their work and what they put their hand to…but Romance King? Don’t really see a lot men going for that crown.

 

And women…don’t want to take the time to learn what men like and what they really want. No…most women want men to mimic them sexually and tell themselves over and over that “some men” are like that, but not their man.

 

 

What comes first? Who gives in? Is that what  Valentine’s day…the mass propaganda Valentine’s day marketed by Hallmark and Jewelry stores really represents?

 

 

Do I want flowers and to be taken to a nice dinner? Sure…what woman doesn’t?

 

 

I would just prefer it to be on June 11^th or September 21^st…instead of the predictable- do it because if I don’t I am gonna be a total tool- February 14^th.

 

 

In my twenties I truly cared and expected the tap dance performed on VDAY. I bought into it and it mattered to me.

 

In my thirties, what matters to me is giving to myself first and foremost the kind of romance I expect from a man.

 

And, learning about men and being open enough to accept what I learn. Not only accept, but respect it.

 

In my thirties, I would rather show my love and adoration for someone in the moments when my heart feels so overwhelmed, I have to let it out. And I hope that those moments are often, not only on a day in February,

 

There… that wasn’t too jaded was it?:)

 

Happy Valentine’s day- make it last all year long!

 

 

I was out to dinner this week with a table full of American men and one man from Italy-

No, this is not the beginning line of a joke.

We got on the subject of women- in particular American women vs. foreign women.

Some of the American men were talking about the standard belief of American men that Latin women and Italian women are better in bed…

So the Italian man speaks up and asks, “Why? Why do you American men all think this?”

The American men go on to blast off a list of all the reasons why this is so-

They are passionate, hot headed, expressive, temperamental…

The Italian man looked so put off as they were spouting off all the reasons-

“You American men are all the same”, the Italian man said between an almost disgusted grunt.

He went on to say, “You want in our women the very thing you call crazy in your women.”

The American men were caught off guard and sat silent for minute-

I think their thick heads were trying to translate what he had just said-

Sure enough- one of the American men asked him what he meant by that-

The Italian man answers, “You think it is so hot and sexy, the temper – the aggression- the passion in our women. But then I hear you call American women nuts, psycho and crazy for the exact same thing. So, I guess your women should go around talking with a little accent and maybe you would think the same of them as you do Latino women?”

Bravo! I could have kissed him…

Of course the American men let it fly right over their heads, some of them acting like they didn’t get it- a couple actually agreeing that what he had just said was true.

I was with a foreign man for 4 ½ years. The same could be said of them as American men say of foreign women-

Foreign men are passionate, savor life, affectionate, colorful and good in bed.

I just found it entertaining that the Italian man called the American men on their double standard.

I have said myself that American men are like chocolate- tasty. Where foreign men are like Nutella- heavenly. Both equally delicious but definitely different.

So a Latino woman with passion is a hot tamale while an American woman with passion is nutso.

Makes me think of the powder keg we Americans live sitting on in our society. The non expressive ways in which we go through life every day, the lines we never cross because that is the way it is.

Other cultures greet each other with a kiss where we have our “space” that no one is supposed to enter. We don’t show emotion- not true emotion.

We don’t show anger- we suppress ourselves sexually.

And we attack or medicate those who do any of the above like a pack of wild hyenas or a river of Parana- because they make us uncomfortable with their passion~ like a spotlight shining on all the ways in which we are living in suppression.

And we wonder why we are addicted? Medicated? Numb?

Workaholics, sex addicts, drug addicts, alcoholics-

Go to Italy, Spain, France, anywhere and do you find AA and a program for every disorder under the sun?

If you do it is because an American brought it there.

It is not to say there are not addictions in other countries-

I think AA should stand for American’s anonymous-

Since we are addicted to being addicted.

But America has a freak flag just waiting to be flown-

I fly mine most days:)

Most people think if they let go, even if it is the tiniest bit- they will lose all control-

Well, like a top wound up tight- maybe it will feel like spinning out of control-

Only because there is actual movement instead of stagnant immobility.

How can you fly your freak flag today?

Be free?

Passionate?

Nutso, crazy, psycho or if you are Latino? Sexy…:)

“I pulled a book to read tonight and your scent is just coming out of the book. Uuuuuuuhhhhhhh Amy- the everlasting scent of feminine seduction.”

OK-

How is it that ex -boyfriends have instant radar in a tiny, little moment of weakness???

One small, little window in a 24 hour day when I was feeling lonely- literally a moment passing where I let myself go there-

And Voila’! An hour or so later this text comes through.

This is my ex-boyfriend- we lived together for 4 ½ years or so…(don’t worry- he likes it when I write about him.)

Never once in 4 ½ years did he so much as write a sentence resembling romance.

Not his style.

Hardly ever in 4 ½ years did he call me by my name-

No- I had nicknames-

Started off as “mini”- because next to him? I was “mini”- he literally could put both hands around my waist and his fingers would touch.

A year or so later the new nickname was “monkey”. Because he and I locked ourselves out of our place one night and there was a huge wall to climb with nothing to step on to get to it- he was a chicken in his Armani-

I was the fearless “monkey” that scaled the wall with ease to the other side and let him in- hence the new “monkey” nickname.

Eventually…by the end? My nickname became “elastic fantastic girl”-

I won’t go into what earned me that nickname;)

But never was I Amy- and if I was? It was always something serious following my name-

Mr. Radar said my name in this text- which showed me the tone of it-

I sat staring at the phone-

Do I ignore?

Respond?

We still talk often- so it wasn’t like it was odd for him to text me-

It has been a year and a half since I moved out.

I sat pondering the possible roads of response I could take- when it occurred to me to just drive it home-

“Why are you alone tonight? Where is ______?”

_____ is his girlfriend.

Yep- That worked!

Got an immediate text back in a joking tone saying he was attempting to read and that they were fine- he just needed a little space and was spending some time alone.

In Menglish?

Basically the text was a filler-

I have no doubt that you could smell my scent on the book- as I was the only one who actually read in the 4 ½ years. No doubt it made him recollect-

As I would if I suddenly caught his scent in the air.

I sat realizing how minimally I live my life.

I don’t do fillers.

I don’t constantly need to be communicating with people- have people around- go out.

I can be by myself- in fact, I crave solitude.

My freedom.

And that includes my freedom from the addicting pull to always “reach out and touch someone” when the silence falls like a blanket around me.

I wrap myself in the blanket of silence-

We text a few more times back and forth and said our goodbyes-

I got off the couch and laughed a little to myself at the woman I have grown into-

The balance I have found between romanticism and realism.

The freedom that comes in not taking the bait-

You get to keep swimming- instead of fighting to shake loose as you are being pulled in by emotions and ties that continue to bind-

I had cut myself from that line a long time ago-

I wondered how many women fall hook, line and sinker-

Just like I used to do…

But men do have an uncanny knack for the gift of radar and acting on it-

Wouldn’t you agree?