very well mannered as in polite?Originally Posted by tonywalt
Hhmmm, tonywalt is often tongue and cheek. (did anyone buy the football story? - really?!) I was looking at Ronaldo's girlfriend during the world cup. She's very well mannered.
very well mannered as in polite?
it may never try
but when it does it sigh
it is just that
good
it fly
Be brave, F. Tell her anything that comes to your mind when you are with her. Be yourself. If she refuses you, it means that she doesn't deserve you. The sooner you find it out the better for you. If you suffer afterwards think why. Would it be your hurt vanity or because there would be no more hope in you to be with her? Get rid of vanity, it is not good for love. If it is the other thing, then ask yourself why do you prefer only to hope than to make your wishes come true. There are lots of nice girls around, I am sure (at least) one of them is waiting for you.
Good luck.
...........
“All" human beings "by nature desire to know.” ― Aristotle
“Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.” ― Robert A. Heinlein
Thank you quite much for your advices, I will try to answer all of them.
First of all, I would suggest to avoid clichés given that they are mostly wrong: you would laugh a great deal if you hear the clichés about Englishmen or Americans that go around Spain. The Spaniards don't wear torero's suits every Sunday, nor they dance flamenco or are all of them a bunch of slackers. In the same way as all of Americans are not fat or dumb, nor the Englishwomen ugly and glamourless. Actually, Spanish society emerges from Civil War through hard-working (the generation of my grandfathers had to work without going on vacation, twelve hours per day), hunger and mourning. Without the help of those that during the war came here to spread the fire of violence like an amusement.
I think that what I called 'my sense of chivalry' does not necessarily entail a condescend feeling towards womanhood, just the contrary: I try not to harass women by treating them like if they were stupid, like most of Casanovas do. They are old enough to decide whether they want me or no. I loathe the game of seduction, I never understood it.
I will try to approach her, I think I can only hope a casual encounter. And, since I don't know anything about her habits, I find it difficult to force that encounter: I stroll aimless around my town, yearning for her presence, but all my efforts are worthless.
Excuses again for my stiff English.
Frédéric
no idea how old you are but yearning for unrequited love might sound romantic but is honestly just a load of old bollocks - be a man, gird your loins and go where no man err you have not gone before.
I am nineteen years old. And the problem is that my life is ridiculous enough as to be source of mockery again, a close friend of hers is the most gossip girl around town and I am sure that if I say something to her all the town would know it immediately.
Cliches, Frederic, are the essence of humor. According to Henri Begson, humor is the embodyment of something mechanical in something human. That's why it's funny when Charlie Chaplin walks like a wind-up toy -- or when standard aphorisms are contradicted by other aphorisms.
Excuse my ignorance of Spanish culture. It has been gleaned mainly from waching Carlos Saura movies, like El Amor Brujo, Bodas de Sangre, and (of course) Carmen. So, naturally, I believed that Sapnish women like flamenco dancing and bullfighters.
I'm afraid your case might be hopeless, Frederic. You don't like "fun", you don't like parties, and you despise the "game" of seduction. Also, everyone your age in your village hates you. That's according to your own reports! Perhaps you should try to have fun, and people (including women) would enjoy your company more. Most people -- even, probably, beautiful, workaholic Spanish women -- like having fun.
According to old Mr. Emerson ("Room with a View"), "Life is a public performance on the violin, in which you must learn the instrument as you go along." If you don't enjoy learning the instrument, you won't learn to play it well.
Much becomes clearer - first life lesson - despite what we think when we are self-conscious angst ridden teenagers most of the time most people don't pay that much attention and the thing about gossip is that it only lasts 2 seconds while in some one's mouth and then they are on to the next topic.
So ... ya knows whats to do ....
I wasn't upset by your comment at all. I only wanted to correct the vision of Spanish society that rules abroad. I do like bullfighting -though I never have attended a 'corrida'-, but the reality is that most of youngs don't show interest about it if not directly despise it. Moreover, the south of Spain is completely different to the north, the east or the west. The flamenco is a tradition only in the south, in other regions of the country are more popular the 'Jotas', the 'Sardana' or the 'Aurresku'. But that folklore is something that only exists for the tourists, a business. The youngs here only drink, it is horrible.
I know that I have few chances, I am a weird and ridiculous man. When I was sixteen I decided to try to be another young, but I couldn't bear it.
The condition of Spanish youth is perfectly explained in this short:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1v-bCyeIR4
She is very polite. When Ronaldo asks her to do something - she politely says YES. (otherwise he's on to the next supermodel and the next one, unless Leonardo di Caprio is dating the supermodel in his scopes.
In summary: She's polite. She has to be. When you are dating a world class professional football player there is too much on the line to lose (being dumped by said football player) to not be polite.
Well then that explains a lot.
We all go through these things at nineteen and sometimes well into our twenties. To be honest with you, at nineteen this isn't a time for you to get so serious about women. Play the field and experiment, at such a tender age you really have no idea what you really want, and that's alright. I'm probably going to sound like your parents right now, but you should be way more concerned about completing your education and securing a rewarding job. A confident man whose making his way in life is far more attractive to a woman than one who is worried about gossipmongers.
Je, je. That's another problem, I dropped out of High School when I was sixteen, I reckon now that it was a mistake, but it's a little bit late to solve it. Believe me when I tell you that I have experimented quite much, and sex without deeper feelings seems horrible to me. I want a girl with whom I may talk about interesting subjects. But that's the only thing I miss in my life, it would be somehow so perfect to be real. I am sure that when I finally get an appropriate girlfriend I will be touched by disgrace.
Last edited by Frédéric Moreau; 07-01-2014 at 02:22 PM.
not before I dumped him though.
there is always that possibility.
I am polite if he is.
If he is not then I could not be.
to date a professional footballer just means you have to be willing to go with the life style and from where I am standing there is not much of it
a relationship with such is a risk factor but then there is money and so that compensates for when things go tits up because conventions and football do not sit together well.
of course there is always one or two who will stand out from the crowd but apart from that the rest I imagine is a nightmare to be had.
I think you would find she is more then polite.
it may never try
but when it does it sigh
it is just that
good
it fly
This is terrible. I have the same problem, because people of my age seem to do nothing but go shopping and partying.
I am only nineteen too, and I suppose not exactly old enough to give you advice. But just my experience.
At sixteen I met a guy who was rather good looking but just average.I mean he was pretty decent, but I don't think he'd read anything in his life except the textbooks. I was flattered by his interest, (vanity. like free says, is not good for love) and we had a kind of relationship. But after a couple of months I realized that I absolutely detested him, and there was no reason because he was very good to me. I'm afraid I behaved rather shabbily by him.
Then about a year ago, there was someone who was grave, quiet and just about perfect. I was infatuated and I don't know what he thought, because I didn't have the courage to do anything about it. And the gossips got hold of it, I can't imagine how they did unless they could read my thoughts, and they made it look like some horrible running after, I mean in a vulgar sort of way. And I was pretty much ostracized for a while (I don't mind it, I don't talk with the silly fools anyway, but it was unpleasant). And of course I kept miles away from him.
I don't think gossips have a right to decide what we do with our life, so if you have more courage than I did, go ahead and talk to her.
P.S. - By the way, I'm a girl, so my apologies if my username has misled the forum members so far.
The primary purpose of a liberal education is to make one's mind a pleasant place in which to spend one's leisure.
-Sydney J. Harris
It seems that you are my alter ego. When I was sixteen I had a rather similar experience, I met a girl of my High School who was, as you have said, “just average”. I begun to take her out but, though I thought that she was a well-meaning girl, I felt quite lonely when I was with her, as Moustaki would say “I am never lonely with my solitude”. I mean that the only way for me to end with lonesomeness is being with a person who shares equal interests, apprehensions and wishes. If not, it only turns worse.
I don't know deeply the girl I am talking about and I am quite sure that if, at length, I realise that she is just another “average girl” I will not like her. My infatuation (in Spanish I would say “enamoramiento”, but that word does not exist in English) is build upon a hope that she may be the girl I need. There is an extraordinary novel by Ernesto Sabato, 'The tunnel', that reflects perfectly this anxiety. The main character is a painter. The story begins when, in one of his exhibitions, he notices a girl becoming aware of a subtle detail in one of his paintings that everybody has ignored. He gently develops an obsession that will end tragically when he realises, after all, of the ordinary girl she really is, I fear and feel the same. I quote him:
“I was even convinced that during those moments her face changed, that her lips curled with scorn and she was perhaps laughing with some other man, and that the whole story of the passageways was my own ridiculous invention,*and that after all there was only one tunnel, dark and solitary: mine, the tunnel in which I had spent my childhood, my youth, my entire life. And in one of those transparent sections of the stone wall I had seen this girl and had naďvely believed that she was moving in a tunnel parallel to mine, when in fact she belonged to the wide world, the unbounded world of those who did not live in tunnels; and perhaps out of curiosity she had approached one of my strange windows, and had glimpsed the spectacle of my unredeemable solitude, or had been intrigued by the mute message, the key, of my painting. And then, while I kept moving through my passageway, she lived her normal life outside, the exciting life of people who live outside, that curious and absurd life in which there are dances and parties and gaiety, and frivolity. And sometimes it happened that when I passed by one of my windows she was waiting for me, silent and anxious (why waiting for me? why silent and anxious?); but at other times she did not come in time, or she forgot that poor caged being, and then I, my face pressed against the wall of glass, watched her in the distance laughing or dancing without a care in the world or, which was worse, I did not see her at all, and imagined her in obscene places I could not reach. At those times I felt that my destiny was infinitely more lonely than I had ever imagined.”
Frédéric
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