all women are fickle

“all women are fickle” or

Opinions Won’t Keep You Warm At Night.

 

fick-le

1. Marked by erratic changeableness in affections or attachments

2. Erratic: liable to sudden and unpredictable change

3. Insincere; not loyal or reliable

4. Faithlessness: unfaithful by virtue of being unreliable or treacherous

5. Unstable, especially with regard to affections or attachments

 

Yesterday evening I was enjoying the company of a typically lovely male companion, when he casually dropped this statement. Initially I was convinced that he was simply baiting me, so I humoured him somewhat, feigning insult and injury whilst generally playing along with what I had thought was a rouse. However, it wasn’t long before I realised that he had in fact meant exactly what he said; he truly believed that, collectively, women can be described using the term above defined.

Naturally I got serious very quickly, and had it not been for him backing down (he lives with a woman after all, and isn’t a silly fellow), things could have become messy quite quickly. As a self confessed feminist (let’s leave that one alone for another time) and a lady who prides herself on possessing strong and unwavering convictions, I found it difficult to hear such sweeping generalisations about what is obviously the fairer sex. (That’s a joke. Or is it?) As well as this, I was indignant; how can a person (regardless of gender) truly believe that all women can be characterised as insincere, unreliable beings who are unable to form lasting attachments to others, or even their own perspectives?

Thankfully we were able to bury the issue and enjoyed a perfectly amiable evening of wine and music, but the conversation got me thinking about the merits of saying the things that we think. Is honesty the best policy, or are there times when we should stifle our thoughts for the sake of the feelings of our significant (and insignificant) others?

 

For the most part, we all censure ourselves to some extent. This happens naturally in social discourse and is considered a necessary way of keeping the peace and maintaining pleasantries, whilst also ensuring the feelings of others are respected. Biting our tongue is something we are trained to do at a very young age; observe any toddler in a social setting with their parent and you can watch the conditioning taking place. I remember my sister telling me a while back about a time she’d been in a Doctor’s surgery with my niece, who was two and a half at the time. Turning to an older lady sitting on a chair nearby, she had stated as a matter of fact, ‘you’re very fat.’ Of course, this was followed by much embarrassment and flustered apologising on my sister’s behalf, who then proceeded to explain to my niece in no uncertain terms that you aren’t supposed to ever say such things out loud, regardless of whether they are true. In the given context, this lesson was clearly necessary; there is little to be gained by pointing out to a lady in a doctor’s surgery that she’s eaten too many doughnuts, after all. But having said this, are there times when speaking the truth and being blunt with our beliefs could prove beneficial?

Some people, as a result of the wiring of their minds, are unable to refrain from expressing their thoughts honestly and without inhibition. While this can occasionally be hurtful, it is often charming and refreshing. A perfect example comes to mind regarding a young man I used to teach (for the benefit of this anecdote, let’s call him James). James has Asperger’s Syndrome, which is a condition that impairs one’s ability to understand and respond to social cues and conventions. A gangly fourteen year old with awkward mannerisms and a perpetual smile dwelling on the edge of his lips, this young fellow is a joy. However, on one occasion I happened to have a particularly nasty looking sore on my top lip, and while most people had been subtle enough not to mention it, James barrelled up to me whilst entering the classroom and exclaimed loudly ‘Geez, Miss what happened to your face?! It’s not very pretty today!’ To which I replied, ‘yeah, thanks dude. I hadn’t noticed.’ To which he responded (remembering that he has Asperger’s and comprehends purely on a literal level) ‘Oh. Well there’s a huge sore on your face. Go and have a look in the mirror, it’s gross!’ Thanks, James. Big up, man.

I think that possibly, there simply aren’t enough James’ in this world. Because whilst I clearly didn’t need to be reminded about the throbbing, oozing sore on my face (don’t worry, I’m exaggerating), it takes a certain strength and courage to stand proudly and with a big loud voice, state what everyone else is pretending not to see. I guess what I’m saying is that having an opinion and expressing it with passion cannot be a bad thing. After all, if you don’t stand for something, you might fall for anything.

Just make sure when you’re voicing your opinions that they’re something for which you’re willing to fall, fighting.

To end where we began, I am sure that when he accused my gender of being fickle, my gentleman friend wasn’t considering the extent of the negative connotations that the word implies, but rather simply meant that generally, women have the tendency to be more indecisive when making decisions and are typically more likely to weigh and consider multiple perspectives in comparison to our male counterparts. I suppose that if nothing else, this is a lesson in selecting our words so that what we say is in direct correlation to what we mean.

 

Because whilst we women may not be fickle, we can be terribly touchy when scorned.

 

how to make friends

Being new in an unfamiliar city can be difficult, namely because you can no longer rely on the support and companionship of your friends; something which we often take for granted. Recently I realised that if I was going to properly enjoy this venture, I would need to form some local friendships; a concept which to me, is entirely intimidating.

I suppose I could be described as socially awkward; I never know what to say in group situations and as a result, often wind up saying the wrong thing, or else sitting mute and being considered quite peculiar. For this reason (among others), I’ve never been awesome at making friends. The few mates that I do have I’ve known since we were fairly young, and I couldn’t tell you where I found them, or why they’ve stuck with me for so long. On the rare occasion that I have made a friend as an adult, it’s gone swimmingly until the moment that I’ve realised that my newest bosom buddy is in fact a psychopath. At which point, I’ve been obliged to walk briskly in the opposite direction. True story.

So suffice to say, the necessity of making friends has left me feeling both bewildered and slightly nervous. In response to these feelings, I did what I always do when I need answers; I looked it up on the internet. Fortunately, the articles I read made it all seem fairly easy; basically, you just have to find people with shared interests and act friendly and approachable. (Though I must admit, I did wonder as to the intended audience of the stuff I was reading when one concluded with the slightly disconcerting suggestion that if you can, you should refrain from ‘pressuring others into being friends against their will’. Umm… )

Even so, I was left with the impression that there mustn’t be much to it, and that once I’d warmed up and got the knack, forming new friendships should be a fairly simple process; especially taking into account my blossoming confidence and new found willingness to climb out on the proverbial limb. In my head it went something like this:

Step One: Find people with whom you have something in common.

Step Two: Bond over said thing that the two of you have in common.

Step Three: Become the best of friends.

Unfortunately, what I’m finding (and this could be a result of the previously mentioned communication retardation), is that making friends is every bit as difficult as I’d originally expected.

In truth, approaching strangers can be an intimidating operation. After all, we’ve all experienced rejection by our peers, and unless we’re crazy, we’re unlikely to want to risk a reoccurrence of such an event.

One occasion in particular has left me scarred for life. It was when I was ten years old, and my dad and I were waiting for something or other beside a group of girls. I guess he’d seen I was looking lonely and, noticing the children nearby, urged me to go and introduce myself. Suitably wary of kids my age, I told him they seemed to have enough friends, but he said I was being silly; that you can never have too many friends. Braced by his optimism, I approached the girls and, as expected, was met by raised eyebrows and a pout that stated quite clearly: there’s something hideous standing quite close to me and I can’t figure out what it is or why it hasn’t gone away yet.

If you were wondering, I didn’t make any friends that day.

I reckon there’s a lot to be said for the argument I put forward almost two decades ago; people only need so many friends. As a result, working your way into an established clique can prove quite difficult. For the past few weeks I’ve been making a concerted effort to mingle, in an attempt to make some mates. Perhaps it just needs more time, but I’ve gotta say; so far, people haven’t been terribly receptive.

 

Do you agree that it’s difficult to make new friends, or do you find it fairly easy? Got any hot tips for this socially awkward individual?

 

When it comes to forming friendships, I’m about as clueless as Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory. Watch him figure out and then apply an algorithm for making friends. Oh, if only.