With our phones always by our side, texting has become an indispensable communication tool for the modern generation. It’s not uncommon to hear that a friend has confessed, or has been confessed, over text — a little impersonal seeming, but perhaps appropriate if they’re both text-heavy individuals. However, some actions are just so inappropriate that they break texting etiquette, and Japanese women have chosen the top thee.
1. He sends original poems
There was a troubled woman who had received love poems from her boyfriend. Her first reaction was “what is this??”, second time “Again!?”, and by the third time she was at loss for words. She was disgusted by the thought of him creating poems to express his love, and their relationship steadily faded out.
“There aren’t men like that around me,” you might say, but she wasn’t the only example. There were multiple stories of budding relationships that were strengthened by regular texting, but as the original poems started coming in and increasing in frequency, the women’s feelings toward their men started to cool down.
I asked if it was acceptable if the poems were pro-level creations, but every one of them said NO. “It seemed like he was writing these because he liked himself in love, not because he loved me,” so writing poems were linked to narcissism.
Women instead preferred short, straightforward messages instead, so it’s best to not send any poems even if it’s a hobby of yours.
2. Sentences are full of spelling and grammatical errors
Flip phone or smart phone, there are many men who send messages before proof checking. One typo can be perceived as a error made in haste, but two or more in one sentence can distort the intended message by bringing more attention to the mistakes.
“What if he’s the type of employee to make these kinds of mistakes for work emails?” and similar doubts can change how men are perceived, so be sure to check before hitting Send.
3. I haven’t replied, but he keeps messaging anyways
This was a characteristic historically tagged as a female habit, but recently men are exhibiting similar behavior. Working women see these messages as “annoying” or “heavy.” Those lacking imagination that she might be busy, or that she actually has other people that she has to communicate with, can lead to persistent messages demanding replies.
Lightheartedness and mistakes tread a thin line. Texting can be harder to convey a thought than in face to face, so take caution before hitting Send so that irreversible mistakes can be avoided.
Who would you call the love of your life? The person who still inspires that delicious puff of wind around the heart - regardless of whether the relationship lasted or not?
Many of us think of our first grand passion, rather than the dependable type we married - or so says a recent survey that showed one in seven admit they didn't end up with their 'true love' and instead opted for 'second best'.
It sounds harsh but we've all been there: harking back to an old flame when times got tough or - even more corrosive - uneventful.
First love: Jeannette with Anthony in 1961
I am no different. I dumped the so-called 'love of my life' some 50 years ago and was lucky enough to go on to be happily married to my late husband, Jacques, for half of that time.
Despite my good fortune, more than once during my marriage I confess I did recall that certain figure with a wistful sigh. So when I got the chance to meet up with him after 40 years apart, did we still have chemistry? Despite later happiness, was my first love 'the One'?
Like many 'true loves', Anthony and I had the odds firmly stacked against us: he coming from an upper-class wealthy Greek family and me from an Orthodox Jewish background.
He'd been 'affianced' at 16 to another wealthy Athenian socialite: I'd been forbidden - at the risk of being disowned by my very religious father who was desperate for me to marry within the faith - from ever seeing him.
We had spotted each other at the London School Of Economics, where we'd both been studying in the early Sixties. Tall, athletic and as devastatingly handsome as any Michelangelo statue, he was also clever, animated, and sophisticated beyond his years - thanks to a privileged education and years spent travelling the world.
And the Greek thing was so intoxicating: the warmth, the music, the lively discussions, the big Sunday lunches with the lemon-scented lamb, the generosity.
Second time lucky: Jeannette with her late husband Jacques
It was so captivatingly at odds with the other students and their limited spag-bol-bedsit lifestyles.
Anthony thought nothing of wining and dining me at chic Madame Prunier's in St James's, or dancing the night away at the Blue Angel club. Everything he did was excessive: extravagant, pleasurable in the extreme and all new to me.
Someone once said the Greeks 'have honey running through their veins' and that, combined with his machismo and tenderness, made Anthony hard for a 19-year-old ingénue to resist. When we weren't making love and vowing devotion, we read romantic poetry.
And when he wasn't teaching me how to eat artichokes or notice the difference between Chantilly and ordinary cream, we were taking trips into the country in the sports car he'd assembled himself.Then there was one wonderful holiday sailing round the Greek islands - my parents knew I was there but had no idea who with.
'As we get older we want to smooth the edges and a trip down memory lane allows us to re-imagine the past'
Oh, memories of the fresh fish in the waterside tavernas, of jumping off the rocks into limpid azure waters, and the scent of honey and thyme on Mount Hymettus.
But oh, too, the rows throughout the affair: the slammed doors, the hysterics at home, threats from my parents, the terrible scenes, the promises he never kept, the pain I felt every time I heard he was with yet another blue-eyed, dark-haired dead-ringer for myself.
They were always waiting in the wings during our frequent splits, which the LSE crowd followed as if we were Taylor and Burton.
It all ended badly, of course. After two and a half years on and off, I finally ended it. Despite his charm, Anthony had one fatal flaw: he did not believe in fidelity. Or rather, he could not tolerate any vacuum: it would instantly be filled by one of the many women who seemed to swirl around him.
Not only could he not resist a pretty face, but the face often belonged to one of my so-called friends. I've no idea how many times he cheated on me - and he didn’t seem to regard it as at all important as I was 'the One'.
Normally, if I found out, he’d simply say: 'Come on darling… you know you’re the one I love.'
Something in the mellifluous tones, the subtle musk of his aftershave and his sheer beauty would convince me to forgive. I would be back in his arms, about to end the war with a passionate peace.
That's how all our arguments ended: in bed. But all the love-making in the world wasn’t going to resolve them for good.
The final straw came when I found out that he’d bought a house in Hampstead for the fiancee he told me he'd ditched long before.
Wistful: Jeannette often thought of her old flame but learnt they were right to separate
Soon after he graduated, he went on to marry said girl. He made a spectacular political career for himself at one point before several reversals of fortune.
As for me, I went to New York at 22 where I met Jacques, a Viennese-born artist 16 years older than myself who proposed on the second date. We were married nearly 25 years before he died in 1987.
During this time, I’d occasionally heard news of Anthony. But he'd been out of touch for a very long time when, five years or so ago, I received an 'urgent' and suspiciously affectionate email via the LSE begging me to meet him.
He seemed to be fantasising about those halcyon days. I agreed to see him when he revealed he was being treated for a ‘little light leukaemia’. Had this prompted his desire to meet up?
'I felt both let down and relieved that I wouldn't feel obliged to see him again. I'd made the right call all those years ago'
I felt puzzled and curious rather than excited. I had no illusions. But there was, in spite of myself, a slight quickening of my heartbeat as I waited at my local station forecourt for Anthony to emerge.
When he did, I had to look twice. The man advancing towards me was tall, white-haired and bearded.
The chiselled features were still there but the face was fuller, slightly jowly, his eyes unfathomable.
It was him - but not him. Too many years had elapsed and I felt nothing as we embraced and exchanged greetings. He might just as well have been a statue.
My instincts were proved right when I discovered he’d divorced a few years after moving into that swish Hampstead house. Worse, he went on to have three further wives! Each marriage ended in heartbreak - for the women. I'd had a lucky escape.
We made conversation but I felt no connection. Even the luxuriant atmosphere of my favourite restaurant - the Waterside Inn in Bray - failed to do the trick.
I felt flat, irritated, even bored. Conversation revolved around him: his high-flying career, his divorces and his finances. He seemed to have little interest in my own life, apart from telling me I 'did too much' and 'looked tired'.
I felt both let down and relieved that I wouldn’t feel obliged to see him again. I’d made the right call all those years ago.
Far from being 'second best', my husband was very much the right choice. Jacques brought out the best in me - allowed me to develop my potential while I, hopefully, helped nurture his creativity.
Together we'd created a family - a son and a daughter - the most precious thing of all.
Anthony and I went our separate ways once more. Although our past chemistry was absent, I still persist in seeing him in a golden miasma. Once a romantic, always a romantic.
Yet I'm sure others who ponder over a past love would reach similar conclusions were they to reunite. As we get older we want to smooth the edges and a trip down memory lane allows us to re-imagine the past. But we would do better to shed these memories once and for all and accept that second best may truly be the best.
After all, you've none of the neediness, despair and self-deception that inevitably accompany doomed love. So if you hark back to the 'one who got away', take note. The end of that relationship was probably the making of you.
Far from regret, we should congratulate ourselves for choosing enduring love over short-lived, jagged passion. Ordinary cream rather than Chantilly, so to speak.
People whose primary reason to marry is other than love — such as to have children with someone they believed would be a good co-parent, to have financial security, or for companionship — generally have longer and perhaps better marriages because their choices are made for a defined purpose.
Additionally, their expectations of marriage and their mate are less unrealistic. Their spouse wasn’t expected to be “The One.” They merely needed to be Mr. or Mrs. “Good Enough.”
Some people call this settling, but we are seeing the wisdom of marriages like these more and more.
I’m not saying love shouldn’t be on the list of things that need to be in your relationship, but it doesn’t need to be number one (and perhaps shouldn’t be).
Here are the three reasons I think marrying primarily for love is not wise:
1. Love is a changeable emotion. As quickly as you fall in love, you can fall out of love. Then what? Either the relationship ends or it becomes toxic. If love is your primary connection, the glue is gone.
2. Love does not make for a strong enough foundation. Yes, love is strong but, due to the fact that it can evaporate, it is not something that can stand alone as the basis for a long-term relationship (especially when kids are involved). Anything built on a foundation of love is subject to crumbling.
3. Love is far from “all you need.”You need mutual respect, shared goals and compatibility way more than you need love to have a sustainable, lasting relationship. People “fall in love with love” just as Kim Kardashian showed us, because they think it will carry them the distance. We all want to be wanted and we love to love yet, if you had a recipe for a strong, healthy relationship, it might look like this: 1 Cup respect; 1 Cup shared goals; 3 Cups compatibility, 1 Tablespoon love, 1 teaspoon attraction (optional!).
