Il est bientôt

For those of sneaky character and for those who just don’t get it; also for the fellow tennis enthusiasts who cannot wait any longer: THE GATES AT ROLAND GARROS IS OPENING IN FEW HOURS!

I get it, it’s lousy editing. But give me the credit for going out my way and  creatively tease my readers for the French Open. Thank you.

The second Grand Slam is up–French Open, that is–in the city of love, baby! The road to Roland Garros had been pretty tough this year: Nole’s grandpa’s death, the Madrid surface disaster, Serena William’s I-am-taking-Madrid-by-storm comeback, Murray chucking out Madrid, Azarenka chucking out Rome, Na Li versus Sharapova’s exciting Rome finals. Nadal finally beating Nole again after uhm? It’s quite too long, who still remembers. The list can go on, but we all have to move on and zero in on the main event.

My forecast: Nole would finally get his first French Open title. Too fearless? Maybe not. I secretly feel Nole’s reason for losing ATP Masters titles is he’s strategically making out the pieces of a the big puzzle. He finally got the last piece from Rome, and now he’s finally up to showing his ultimate light saber.

Obviously I can’t wait to see Nole in his renewed strength for RG. But I’m equally excited to seeing Radwanska’s matches. Lately I’ve been watching her previous matches and have been amazed with her improvement. She’s one of the most strategic players in WTA, I must say. It was not surprising she got the Brussels. Radwanska is currently WTA’s third seeded player.

Clearly I’m betting on to these two. I hope they grab the titles, but more to the titles is the thrill of the matches. Will the RG Finals go as far as almost 6-hours like the Australian Open’s? Players hate such stretch, but I know most of the fans hope that it’ll be so.

PS

No offense to the French government for ripping your flag–virtually. And for you who owns copyright to that googled French flag, I borrowed it and ripped it for this post, I hope you don’t mind. Finally, to all Frenchmen out there, don’t laugh at me if I got the title all wrong, I honestly don’t have a clue if it’s grammatically correct. In case it’s wrong, blame my translator–Google.

The human race is good

Summer classes officially ended yesterday, and I’m taking comfort with the fact that I still have one week to enjoy the summer. After all, a week is still a week.

My official week off from school was purposively for the business I’m starting. But I don’t want to reveal anything about it yet, even its nature. What I can tell you though is it is not in any manner illegal. Anyway, today, I looked for possible suppliers.

It is easy to read “I looked for possible suppliers,” but I tell you in reality it wasn’t that easy–as in “difficult” comes close to being a total understatement. I walked hell-knows-how-long and hell-knows-where, which I don’t regret at all: I burned a good deal of calories, and got to talk to four prospects.

My business however is not what I want to write for, so I shall drop it hereafter.

A friend once asked me if I thought people are generally good. Without thinking, I said I do. With such reply, he added that I, then, am good. He told me that when you see others good, then you are a good person. If you think otherwise, then you’re not quite of a good person either. His main argument was that the way you see people is a reflection of yourself. The construct was quite heavy, I believe,  but it does make sense.

As i mentioned, I was searching for suppliers. Lost, I approached a police station. I asked several questions, and the policeman whom I went up to was very much willing to answer everything. Another policeman came and entertained my questions as well. I thought they’re nice, but being nice to civilians is a thing you should expect of a policeman.

They suggested I take a tricycle to get me to where I should be. Still on the backup, they halted one for me. They asked the tricycle driver how much he would price me. 50 pesos was the driver’s number. It was quite pricey for a ride, but I kinda expected it as I really sensed it would be far.

I didn’t see the next things coming, though. The first cop’s reaction was like, “Nah. That’s too much! 20.” To my surprise, the driver easily yielded to a 30-peso less of  his initial valuation. The second cop dominatingly ordered, “Don’t think twice of charging her more or dropping her off elsewhere. This is my niece. Get her where she should be.” Then the first cop added that if he did so, he’s a dead meat.

I met them just few minutes ago and they weren’t my uncles.

When the tricycle was about to leave, I thanked them. But I felt a simple thank you wasn’t enough. They did not merely help me, they went as far as trying to protect me. I’m full of gratitude for these two men, one thank you is short. So I thought I will pray for them and their family tonight.

Whether or not I am a good person, I still stand by my view of human life. These two cops had probably shot at least a person. They also fall short of being good husbands, fathers, or sons at times. But they are good people, two examples of what we call humans. So if you think the human race is hopeless because of the inattentive waitress, or your work mate who acts as if he’s a descendant from hell, think again. People are generally good. Have faith with the human race.

Upset by Rafa, upset me

We all have our personal biases. My obvious bias? Novak Djokovic. The one who had just lost to Rafael Nadal at Rome 2012 Finals by a ridiculous double-faulter.

He played well, alright. He had some aces, yes, but he was not playing his best. He busted up his racket again, and he failed to get a grip in the first set. He tried changing his gameplan early in the second, but to no avail. Though what came to be the most unacceptable, let alone incredible, was his peck of unforced errors and double faults.

Loomed in unbelief, I was groping for a game-changer, pretty much like a miracle. If prayers are like drugs strengthening a player, he could have won straight sets with mine alone: “Come on Nole, I prayed for you in my morning prayer. And I am praying for you now. I know you can do it. Do it!”

I really sounded funny, talking to him as if he could hear me. But I knew I looked funnier than I sounded. I was hooding my head with a blanket, partly covering my eyes–like a 5-year-old watching a kissing scene–because I didn’t like what was happening, but didn’t want to miss a moment either. I know I’m usually stoic, always with the neutral reaction, but with Nole’s matches I don’t know why I always lose my footing.

There are players you could trust in pressuring scenarios. Those who have what we call “grace under pressure.” Those who are not astounded by losing streaks, and manage to play on as if everything is fine. Clearly, Nole was not that kind of a player in this match. But for the record, he’s one of the mental players who can easily get a grip when everything seems to fail. So I’m still on Nole’s side, even with his stint of losses in the ATP Masters. I actually betted a bottle of Gatorade on the 2012 French Open title because I don’t trust he’s having a bad year, like everyone else is saying. I knew he’ll be grabbing the Grand Slams, after his AO title this year. He should.

Moving on with the biggie, Roland Garros is on Sunday! Like millions of tennis enthusiasts, I hope we see another clay match from Nole and Rafa. They will forever be the best rivals, always bringing out the best in each other.

Oh did I mention Nole’s Italian awarding speech? Can I just say it’s so sexy? I was smiling the whole time, trying to pick out some words (I know basic Italian) but I was so taken by the fact that this amazing tennis viking speaks three languages–or maybe more. Fine Nole, you let me down with your errors, but you got me again with your Italian.

Shadow days are over, hooray!

A week ago, I heard Ryan Seacrest said on America’s Top 40 that John Mayer’s first single out for Born and Raised, Shadow Days, was penned for Jennifer Aniston.

I really liked them together back then, and when I learned that they broke up, I thought it’s sad. But I thought that’s JM and Jen anyway. They are so used to easy hook ups and break ups–until it wasn’t that easy, at least for JM: I didn’t know John Mayer was so taken with Jen, he found it really difficult to move on. Shadow Days is said to be an I Am Done With You song dedicated to Jen. After almost three years! But I shouldn’t be surprised, Heartbreak Warfare was also JM’s song for Jen.

With Born and Raised, it seems that JM’s really grown. When teaser pictures for the album were released late last year, I liked how he has gone country. It was like him when he first started. He looks more mature, which I love. And he seems done with his douchebag persona–never crazy about that side of his.

I wonder how it will go if the JM now was the one Jen met years ago. I think their relationship could have been better. Man meets woman.

He’s a good man. I believe it.

And Oh! Rumor has it that JM’s starting to realize that Something’s Missing, so he’s somehow in pursuit for a non-Holywood girlfriend now. Someone he said he can relate to. Finally! Found my spot–kidding. It seems like he’s done with the Perfectly Lonely state.

JM’s my idol since I was a kid, so with all my heart I really hope he finds a serious partner. An Asian girlfriend would be interesting (I’m not saying it’s me, it’s just that Asian women stay in a relationship longer, if not a lifetime).

Tricks for big calves

There aren’t many girls in the gym I am working out in. So I kinda understand why there are times pricks come close and you know try to butterfly. I’ve always felt men in their physically active state have to displace their surging adrenaline somewhere else. Even so, I could not care less about any of them. Whoever they are, whatever they look like, I just would not get interested. I’m pretty much focused to my goal when working out.

One time, a guy tried hitting on me. Apparently, he’s ditched even before he came closer. He opened a talk, and I either wasn’t answering or was giving short cold responses. He knew he’s out, but continued talking to me to probably save face.

“What’s your sport,” he asked. I did not answer. “Volleyball,” he probed. I shook my head. Nay. “Track?” Again, a miss. “Tennis?”

There were many sports he could have tried, but he was a hit on the third try, so I gave it to him and nodded. “You really have big calves, so I guessed.” I dropped it and went on with my treadmill.

For women, big calves are not exactly flattering. But tennis, distance running, and genetics have altogether clumped and bless me with these huge calves. So that guy’s comment did not necessarily come as an insult to me. I knew I got these calves because I’m into sports. Then again, big calves are still quite of a grabber.

I’m short, around 5’2″. Because I used to swim, I’ve pretty wide shoulders. And I’ve flat chest and abdomen. My thighs are okay–they are of normal size. Now imagine my built. I look good in a tennis skirt and rubber shoes, okay. But once I get off from these athletic apparel, there’s the problem. But here’s what I do to make up for my unapologetic calves:

1. I wear dark pants, it makes my lower  limbs look leaner. I also choose the cut, so before buying jeans, I make sure I’ve the best pick. Usually, I go for straight cuts, or skinny jeans that aren’t too tight in the shank.

2. I love being in really high heels, a thing my sister could not understand. Since it’s not advisable to wear pumps at school (because of all the running and hassle), I always get excited to go to gatherings because I get to wear my heeled pairs. 4-inches  or higher are my bet. That’s because when my heels are that high, my calf muscles flex like there’s no tomorrow–they really look hot, I mean all these muscly look.

3. Fashion experts say would not advise mini skirts for huge-calved women. I disagree. I wear minis sometimes because they cut through my thighs. So my thighs are the ones emphasized and not my calves. I don’t know if it’s logical, but it works for me.

4. A lot of people say my collar bones are sexy. My sister would always say that they are like saucers, that is, you can put sauce in them because they’re so deep. One time while I was taking a shower, the Dove (that has become smaller because of usage) sank into my collar bones. Not feeling it, I thought I lost the soap. Anyway, they’re one of my assets, so instead of putting too much attention on calf-leaning tricks, I wear tops that would emphasize the best part of my bod.

5. I embrace it. Not only my thighs, my arms got bigger and my skin is darker because of tennis. But since I cannot get enough of the sport, I embrace whatever happens to my limbs and skin. It took me a lot of whining in front of the mirror, but when I finally accepted them, I became more confident and less self-conscious about my calves.

Classic version of A Thousand Years

I woke up earlier, remembering my dream. In it, I have to perform with some of my classmates an intermission number at a soccer game at the Sunken Garden (in UP). The game happened to be really massive, like there’s a media coverage and a big crowd was incessantly piling.

I was tasked to play the piano. I’m not a pro player, but I try learning some stints for the purpose of just learning (You have to know that I’m quite of an eager learner. Not learning something new for me is like a runner not running for three days in a row.) It’s crazy because I have to play A Thousand Years without practicing. To make things worse, it was just some hours before the number.

I awaken trying to remember the chords and the intro. Seriously. I played the song while I was preparing for a morning run. After jogging and while waiting for my bread and milk, I checked one of my favorite blogs, Timothy Tiah’s. He shared this video from The Piano Guys, what a coincidence!

Like Timothy and Audrey, I love this song, but how I, and probably a million else, wish it wasn’t from Twilight. This flawless cover left me nursing my goosebumps that just wouldn’t go down!

Myths outside of school

Myth1: Summer classes are taken by delinquent students. In most universities in the Philippines, summer is generally a break–except for students remiss in their student duties. They have to make up for their failed subjects, ergo taking summer classes to get by the regular schedule next semester. In other words, summer is some sort of a punishment for the lazybones that were the previous semester.

This is not true for my university, though. We take summer classes for several reasons. Yes, some are delinquent, but others just want to take some subjects in advance. A number of us also take our P.E.s during summer because we either could not squeeze them in a regular semester or are unlucky with P.E. enlistments in a regular semester, competing against 300 or so students for a single slot. A majority, I suppose, take summer for allowances. Me and the rest of the people inside the school therefore know so well that summer classes are not always characterized by delinquency.

Since I entered my university, I’ve been taking summer classes. One because I’m too old for summer programs like swimming, tae kwon do, ping pong, or voice lessons. I used to enroll in those kinds of summer programs when I was younger.  It’s just that I’ve always felt that summer is the favorite period of  the unproductive people. And I cannot stomach sticking my back on my bed or ratting around the mall for one whole day. I’ve to resort to something else that could occupy me, summer classes that is. Another main reason is allowance. Bankruptcy is my enemy, and I hate the feeling of living with an empty pocket. Taking summer classes is the most obvious and simplest solution. I’m also taking advance classes and P.E.s for the summer sometimes. Simply put, I’m no way considered a delinquent student.

But however free we are in taking summer classes, we still have to face two conditions: one, we must endure the blazing summer heat. Two, we must deal with malicious questions and probes about taking classes beyond our required schedules.

Myth 2: Summer classes do not exist. I always exercise my rights, whatever people say. If my mum would ask me how much more money I have left, appraising if she would give me extra or not, I exercise my right to silence (the safest way to avoid lying and demanding at the same time). I also do not want other people looking at my stuff because I reserve my right to privacy. And when I’m commuting to and from school, I always ask for the one-peso student discount. Some students discard this one-peso discount because it is after all “just one peso.”

The thing with student discounts, however, is not an additional peso to your pocket and less to the driver’s, that more or less need it more than yours do. It is exercising your right–a law hardly passed by our legislators. If you pass off your rights as easy, what are the efforts of our legislative body for? What are they for, in the first place? If such a light right, you do not reserve, how will you treat other considerably weighted rights? By availing of your one-peso-or-two-per-fare discount, believe me or not, you are also doing the right thing–the best thing, in fact.

Some drivers do not give student discounts because a lot of students are embarrassed asking for them–because it’s “just one peso.” A lot of drivers abuse this lack of guts. They do not grant  the discount to passengers who are obviously students, wearing uniforms and I.D.s., simply because of refusing to say the magic words: “student po.” Technically, such drivers are law offenders. You should not dare contribute to their lawbreaking activity; you should not desire for more violators in your country: ask for student discounts–that is if you really are a student and your business is to go, or come back, from school.

It’s extra harder for the students in my university to ask for student discounts because we don’t wear uniforms (Philippine education preserves the uniform system even in the university level.) when for jeepney drivers, you are a student if you are actually wearing a uniform and an I.D. It’s extra extra harder for me because I don’t wear fancy clothes at school. I wear something that would invite respect–a value I started since last year. A lot of times I look more like a yuppie than a student. As such, I grant that it’s pretty unconvincing when I ask for a student discount, so I always wear my I.D. when commuting.

Now it’s extra extra extra harder for me to ask student discounts because it’s summer. Not to demean them, but I think most jeepney drivers have not reached college, much less high school. In the primary and secondary level (from pre-school to high school), summer classes are not observed. So for some jeepney drivers–

summer classes are a fantasy. And so are summer student discounts.

Now that’s worse than Myth #1. Myth #2 makes you appear like a prick: sure you are not a delinquent student, but in Myth #2 you are a swindler, that is, asking for discounts when classes are “supposed to be in recess.”

Earlier I rode a jeepney en route home from school. I was wearing an I.D. and I asked for a student discount.  The change I got from the driver was a peso short of a discounted fare, though. I reiterated that I am a student, only to be rebuked with an annoyed “there are no classes, you little miser.”

It was easy to redeem myself from the situation. After all, I’m best at rebuttals. I could slap in his face my registration form and say, “Check for yourself if I’m enrolled in the summer classes or not.” But I chose not to. Not because I dispensed with my strict reserving of my rights. Not even because I allow “law offenders” when I appear to be weak at the spot.

I still practiced my right, even fought for it. I opposed not being granted a discount by iterating that I am in fact a student. I gave him a chance not to break the law, but he oversaw it and pushed his truth–which happened to be equally valid.

That driver probably have not gone to college. He perhaps is not aware of summer classes. Pressing my issue with rights for student discounts, I would more or less embarrass him to the rest of the people in the jeepney. Educating him about the “existence” of summer classes is no lesser than rubbing in that he was not able to receive a college education. This is precisely what I will never do–dealing with things uneducated-like. Also if I did so, I would have been worse than the driver: I may have pushed my rights to limits. I may have forstalled another event of law-breaking.  But I would have broken a law far greater than human law–His law.

Smurf Turf assessed

When I was starting to play tennis, my tennis buddy once told me he didn’t like training in a shell court because it’s all too different with the hard court he’s accustomed to playing on. I, who have my training in a shell court, never understood him until I played in a hard court. And as I appreciate the difference in the surface, I understand why Rafa and Novak are clamoring against the shift in Madrid’s surface.

The culprit: First, let me tell the story of the “Smurf Turf”. It was the label coined to ridicule the sudden blue clay court at the Madrid Open. The blue clay was the brainchild of the mogul and Forbes 937th richest man in the world Ion Tiriac. A former tennis player, Tiriac is the current owner of the Madrid Open. Last December, it was announced that the blue clay was approved by the ATP. Despite the criticisms, however, they assured the public that the surface will have the same properties as the red clay. Only it didn’t. In a recent interview, Tiriac conceded to the clay disaster and apologized because it had become too slippery. To make the clay blue, they had to extract iron oxide, an element in the red clay. The blue sand was also unable to blend with the base. All these caused the blue clay court to become slippery. However, it was largely the ATP that allowed this major change which they call a “one-year experiment.” ATP approved the change without the consent of the players.

It was not just a mere excuse. Madrid should prep up the players to the French Open, but the court isn’t even close to the surface at Roland Garros. It is faster than the traditional clay, much more like a hard court. However, it isn’t the issue of speed that made this court the worst. It isn’t even the color. It’s the property of the court that made Rafa (2nd seeded player) and Nole (top seeded player) slipped (pun intended) out in the third round and quarterfinals to world’s 19th and 8th ranked players, respectively. Rafa and Nole were struggling with their shots because it’s a lousy base, to start with. Toni Nadal, Rafa’s uncle and coach, advised Rafa to back out after training on the blue court. It was not just the same as the traditional red court. Maria Sharapova felt the uneven distribution of clay on the surface. And Novak was sliding his way up until his semis loss.  The surface was like partly a turf and partly a wet hard court disguised in clay. While Rafa asked the organizers if he could wear grass court shoes (but was denied), Nole quipped that he either wear football shoes or ask the help of Chuck Norris in this court condition.

Nole and Rafa creates winning shots on predictability, that is, they are able to anticipate the speed and the landing spot of the ball. I’ve personally encountered this ball issue. When I’m being fed with a number of balls, I despised the balls that “lose track”. Some balls are slower than the others and some balls fall flat, like a stop ball in billiards. The uneven distribution of clay and the properties of the base made it hard for these two top seeds to predict the ball behavior.

Nole and Rafa did not just lose Madrid at the early rounds, they would refuse to play Madrid if the clay stays the same in 2013. A lot of people were saying that this big a statement has made the two a bit of sore losers. But it is not just about losing in an unpredictable court. It’s about the threat to their condition, especially to Nole who is very prone to sprains. A title to Madrid is not worth the price of getting at your worst condition for a couple of tournaments. Not to demean the tournament, but what is Madrid to all tournaments combined? It does make a difference in the scoreboard, but what the hell? It was utterly dangerous for the players. As Nole asserted, “They are saying it’s exactly the same as the red clay which is not true because there is a big difference… You are tripping and slipping and sliding all the time and winner will be the one who doesn’t get hurt until the end of the week because a lot of players fell down.”

A lot of people think Nole tanked Madrid when Rafa fell from the third round, allowing for more opportunities of Nole-Fed face-off. I don’t speak numbers but this one is really obvious: a finals tally definitely has higher credit than a quarterfinals’. Nole is currently world’s #1, and any chances of a higher point would benefit him altogether. Everyone needs a booster in the scoreboard, especially in ATP. There are also comments about Rafa slacking off again. Rafa is not in the position to take it easy. With a marginal difference between Rafa’s and Fed’s scores, there is a possibility that before the French Open, Fed’s over Rafa. And Rafa would not want that. I would not want it either, and I’m sure more people would want to see a Nole-Rafa showdown in clay, after the seething match at Rod Laver. Losing early in the tournament obviously was never an option for these two. Nole, Rafa, and Fed have been playing against each other for quite some time, it’s not anymore a question of fending off a tough contender. If there is anything each of these three want, it’s to beat their strongest contender, not to avoid them. So for Fed worshippers, bust your bubble about Nole throwing off an opportunity to go face-to-face with Fed; and do remember we’re talking about the world’s top seeded here, the man who pulled off nearly six hours of match in the Australian Open.

I don’t care if the change in the court was merely for publicity. As a matter of fact, I grant that they needed one: the Venus-Maria match was said to have most seats left unoccupied, like a flop concert, like a box office hit movie on its 5th week. I couldn’t care less about the color even. What I am after are good matches from the best players, but if their safety is not of paramount concern, making them withdraw from the tournament, then there’s no Madrid for me next year too.

The best way to wear board shorts

En route to the airport to fetch my sister who was arriving from Boracay with her friends, my mum and I were listening to Boys Night Out, the radio program. Coincidentally, the Boys were talking all about Bora, as they were packing up for the following weekend and were about to head to the country’s number one summer hot spot. At one point, they were talking about board shorts.

How do guys really wear board shorts? Or how should it supposed to be worn? I was looking through Hang Ten’s SS 2012 collection and stumbled upon this photo: this is how men should wear their board shorts. Here are some specific tips from the Boys and the callers:

1. Board shorts must be worn at an above-the-knee level. Knee-level and below-the-knee cuts are a bit outdated.

2. Sport your devil’s cut while having your shorts hang a hand below your bellybutton.

3. Wearing briefs underneath your board shorts depends on how well you can manage it. A caller noted that some board shorts have this thicker material inside the shorts that functions as an alternative to briefs. If you feel good with just, or without, that, pass off the briefs and save it for the trip back home. If you feel like you’re a door unlatched without your briefs under your shorts, have the freedom to wear one; but note that it shouldn’t peek out of your shorts.

4. Apparently this should be considered in the board shorts matter: do you shave or not? The Boys concluded that it depends in the color and material of your shorts. If it’s dark and a bit thick, you can do without shaving or the “Boyzilian” waxing. If it’s white or light-colored, you definitely have to wear dark briefs underneath. But if you don’t want to wear one and you have light shorts with thin material, it’s necessary to shave or wax to “avoid the ‘spider legs’ from peeping through your shorts.”

5. Wear your board shorts with a Chris Evans-like confidence.

 

God and Suicide; Push and Pull

My best friend (for a long time) and I had this very sensible conversation about matters of the heart–his matter of the heart, actually. He was sharing to me his confused thoughts on going for a girl–who recently  became his “best friend” (in a sense that they’ve suddenly become a clinger for each other). Skeptical to how they label themselves–best friends–I cracked a very intriguing question: is it possible that best friends would fall in love to each other? Or is it something else?

My idea of friend is quite sacred. That’s precisely the reason I can count in my fingers my friends. Friends are like relatives for me, they sit in a pedestal almost at the same height as close relatives. But I grant that there are, though I’m not approve of, situations when the line between friendship and romantic relationship thins out, or totally dissolves. These are situations more popularly known as the  Lucky I’m In Love With My Best Friend Cases.

Best friendship is an abused kind of relationship nowadays. It’s become an excuse when two people (at the phase of unobtrusive flirting) find comfort to and care for each other, but are indisposed to labeling it as something deeper as boyfriends or girlfriends, or dating. The term best friend has become a diversion, a more acceptable term when you feel it but are reluctant to admit it.

This best friend of mine (the one I had the conversation with) and I are Really Best Friends (vis-a-vis pretentious best friends), but we have to become defensive when people become nosey about our relationship asking, “Are you really best friends or are you something else?” Apparently, in this poisonous age where best friendship takes another function, that is, to cover up a budding romance, we have to prove that we are genuinely best friends in the purest sense.  When people pry into our best friendship, we jump outright to ‘justifications’ as to why we’ve become best friends. We have to say that we were classmates since the second grade; that we’re close to each of our mums; that we say the rudest and overboastful things to each other, things we refrain from mentioning to other people in casual conversations because of manners.

Anyway, as it is apparent, I’ve a strict boundary between the love and friend zones. Friends are like close relatives, and falling in love with them is like incest. What I did advise my best friend was not to go for his other “best friend,” because for me, when the friendship’s poured with the criminal love septic, there’s no turning back.

Another insight in the conversation was a dandy idea from my best friend, who is likewise observant. He lectured me about the correlation between gender and instinctual actions on romantic relationships (sounds like a term paper, lol). He told me that in the getting-to-know phase, guys and girls usually take an opposite position. Men are risk takers: they move in a make or break kind of way. That’s how they’d figure whether or not they’re going for the girls they ‘spotted’. Women, in contrast, are usually on guard. They normally don’t do the moves–they respond to them. Aggressive ones would positively respond while unassertive ones would first size up these guys on pursuit. Simply put, guys are usually “on the hunt,” while the girls are being attentive to their “checklists.”

Coming up with these binary opposites–best friendship and romantic relationship, and hunter and checker roles–in a rather spontaneous conversation is one of the many proofs that me and my best friend are really best friends: we have the same wavelength.