The Land of Sex and Drugs

I've discovered something recently. My friend Ruth, a seemingly rational, confident, sane woman is quite the opposite when it comes to one thing: men.

Last week, Ruth had a lovely evening with a man she had had a few lovely evenings with, but this time with a different ending. This time, at the end of their evening, she invited him up for tea. Their platonic relationship became not-exactly-platonic. (And yes, "invited him up for tea" immediately became our favorite euphemism.) The evening did not include sex, but it did include a lot of other things much less innocent than drinking tea. He spent the night with her in her teeny, tiny, university-issued cot. So glad I don't live in a residence hall.

The next day, when I asked her how the evening went, she responded with "It's complicated." Thinking that there was some kind of Luigi-style over-sized baggage problems going on, I met up with her later. She told me everything that had happened. I couldn't figure out where the problem came in, so I asked. Her answer went something like this: Well, I didn't have sex with him, so he's never going to call me again. This statement made about as much sense as pouring milk before the cereal. (As in, no sense whatsoever, why would you ever do that?) There is no law stating that you have to have sex with everyone you invite up for tea. It's also not as if they had just met that evening in a pub, snogged in the bathroom, and started taking each other's clothes off in the taxi. They've actually been out a few times without the rest of the crew; if he were only interested in sex, he would have made a move by then. I asked her to remind me again where he was from. "Holland," she said. "The land of sex and drugs. He definitely won't call me."

I told her he would definitely call her.

She seemed to accept this. Then: But what are we going to do? My visa will expire, I have to go home. How is that going to work?

It was then that I realized that I was dealing with a crazy person. How does one go from "He's never going to call me because I didn't have sex with him" to "Ohmygod, we have to get married before my visa expires" in 30 seconds?

I very gently reminded her that 24 hours prior, she had never even so much as kissed this man, and that September is 6 months away. Let's focus on the second date before we start weighing the pros and cons of an international relationship versus a quick wedding to prevent deportation, shall we?

Despite my best efforts, she repeated the same concerns to Amelie the next day. Later, Amelie said to me. "That girl is CRAZY! She would marry him next week, wouldn't she?" Yes, I'm afraid she would.

I think her craziness is by no fault of her own. She is merely a product of her culture. Ruth is Arabic, and by Arabic standards, she is incredibly liberal. However, compared to the Western culture of Amelie and me, she's very conservative. This is the same girl that was shocked that I had kissed Luigi in a busy train station during rush hour. In her country, when you kiss someone, you kind of are practically engaged. Even married people don't kiss in public. And yes, Ruth has had boyfriends before, this isn't the first man she's ever "invited up for tea," but I do have a feeling that if it goes wrong, Amelie and I are going to have our work cut out for us.

There is only ONE way to kiss a girl

Hola chicas! Grayer and I have just returned from a little jaunt around Costa Rica. We love to travel. It's an addiction for which there is no cure. The more you travel, the more you want to travel. It's a skill just like anything else that needs to be practiced. Trust me, we've had our share of disasters. One of the reasons we like it is not only because of the things you learn, but the people you meet. (Travel tip #1: You do not meet people staying in hotels or resorts. Hostels increase your experience tenfold.)

This trip was no exception. In one hostel, we overheard a snippet of conversation from a young whippersnapper proclaiming that "there is only one way to kiss a girl." Needless to say, we were intrigued.

A few hours later, that very same whippersnapper came up to our table where we were playing spoons with The Bearded Wonder (yes, Grayer promises to write more on him later) and a few other randoms from the hostel. Adam Pemberley, 18, Washington State introduced himself. After we got over the fact that he was a mere child ("I could be your father," said TBW. "Actually, I couldn't, but I would be."), he joined us for a round of spoons.

After the game, we sent TBW undercover to find out exactly what the ONE way to kiss a girl is. I'm sure Adam Pemberley, 18, Washington State was totally stoked to be giving advice about kissing girls to a bearded man nearly 10 years his senior. (Note: Adam Pemberley, 18, Washington State did indeed use the term girl, not women.)

According to Adam Pemberley, 18, Washington State, a kiss must start gently. Then, you add pressure and alternate. Next, you introduce the tongue and establish a rhythm. Then nature takes over.

And there you have it. How to Kiss a Girl. Straight from the mouths of babes. Traveling is so educational.