My Blog

    I hate the way you talk to me.

    And the way you cut your hair.

    I hate the way you drive my car.

    hate it when you stare

    I hate your big dumb combat boots.

    And the way you read my mind.

    I hate you so much it makes me sick - it even makes me rhyme.

    I hate the way you're always right.

     I hate it when you lie.

    I hate it when you make me laugh - even worse when you make me cry.

     I hate it that you're not around.

     And the fact that you didnt call.

     But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you -

   -You will have a good luck soon…

   ‘Only do not show you are somehow interested in her words. Do not turn round’- I told to myself.

   -He was a tall man with black hair. Your first love.

   ‘O.k this one is easy to guess. I am a tall woman so it’s quite reasonable that I would prefer  a tall man. As for the black hair, well, I will tell you one secret: 90% of southern men have black hair. The rest are either bald or grey-haired.

   I was thinking it over and walking the street while she kept uttering her oracles and following me. She was about 20 or 25. She looked like Gypsy, I mean she wore that long  gypsy-like dress with a lot of knick-knacks on it. And Gypsy people are known for their love to make predictions.

   -You had a hard time when you broke up.

   ‘She can’t know it. How could she?!  NO! It’s impossible…’

   -I can look into your future and tell you everything. You will get him back soon.

   ‘This is too much. I don’t want him back. I’m quite happy with my present life and I don’t want to know my future. NO! ‘  

     Finally I turned round and gave her 3 manat (in case you would like to know, it’s about 5 $).

     You are the most beautiful woman in the world!   

       How many times women hear it from men. They say it sometimes honestly, sometimes pursuing their own interests (which are in most cases not hard to guess).They might say it to please you, to compliment you, to make you stop nagging, out of pity or sometimes just out of  habit . But it’s actually o.k. with us, isn’t it? We don’t want to become  Miss Universe. Not all of us at least. And hearing you look so nice today or this dress suits you very  much, dear could spirit me, while  you are the most beautiful woman in the world would definitely make my day. Even if  I’m aware that there are some women who may be prettier that me (well, o.k, not some but a little bit more J)  

       But do you know when I was really happy? It’s when my 8 years old child (who is a boy, by the way, so we can assume him as a man here) was telling  me about his classmate girl and describing her said:’’ …she is beautiful, mom, just like you…’’