2 Questions Every Girl is Asking Herself

Chapter 75

Back in London, I moved right into Becky's sunny flat near Canary Wharf. By now, the end of June, the weather has turned nice and warm. Becky invited me along to all sorts of fun things: Harry Potter studios, Covent Garden concerts, food truck tastings. But I was in no mood for sightseeing. Most of the time, still too troubled from the sudden breakup with Matt, I would burst into tears on the bus, while on our way to the Portobello Market or afternoon tea. But I was also grateful to be here – the sense of promise that the days ahead might yet hold some unknown adventure. I knew that even though I cannot fully enjoy these new sights now, but one day, when the storm passes, they will be right there waiting for me.

I took on heartbreak the same way I took it on seven years ago. I worked. I submitted to dozens of newspapers, and applied for jobs in publishing and PR. I meditated, twice a day, one hour at a time. I read Dan Brown's Inferno to take my mind off the fire inside. I made new friends. I commenced to getting professional self-help with books such as Too Good to Leave, Too Bad to Stay by  marriage counselors to help me process what had happened. And I joined a writers' meetup.

The meetup, which doesn't sound like much, turned out to be a fantastic group of writers who get together once a week to practice their craft. First, they write in silence for two hours. Then, they socialize over beer and wine at the local pub. Ben, who leads the group, is an Australian expat living in London. A full-time writer and photographer, a fascinating globetrotter with enough stories to keep a kindergartener entertained for one thousand and one nights. The whole group of us met on the upstairs dining room of the pub, with teal walls and gilded mirrors – typical English drawing room feel – where we exchanged introductions. Around the table we had family saga mystery writers, thrillists, literarians, and professional screenwriters. After hearing everyone speak, I felt so happy. I felt this was the reason I came to London, to be around interesting people like Ben.

Among the attendees, a lady called Lisa caught my attention. A former actor and now a director, who's lived in Montreal, New York, and now London, she's writing a self-help book similar to Don't Stress the Small Stuff. I was freshly heartbroken, so I asked her for some advice on happiness.

She said, in our lives there are two types of relationships: Xs and Ys. There are people whose paths intersect with ours briefly like an "X". And then there are people whose paths converge with ours like a "Y."

Most relationships are Xs, and we ask why they are not Ys. Well, because Xs are ex's.

I clapped my hands together, laughing. Loving the play on words and the wisdom that comes with it.

Then she said to me, "There are plan As and plan Bs. When you're focusing on plan Bs you're not committed to your plan As. Vancouver was your plan B, and so was your ex. Now it's time for plan A."

* * *

Brian, my friend from university, is visiting town. Brian is quite simply, amazing, and probably the most famous alumnus of our business school. He skipped grades in high school and managed to finish university by age 18. Moved down to San Francisco and went on to create his own mobile rewards company by 19. One of the youngest people in the world to receive venture capital. He has been featured in Forbes top 30 under 30 for three consecutive years, travels around the world giving talks, been on the judging panel at Cannes, need I go on? He's living the dream for all of us. A bigger dream than all of us dared to dream.

We met up because he was launching their UK office and was staying in Soho. So we had lunch at Dean Street Townhouse. I found him somewhat intimidating. I felt mildly inadequate in his presence. With enough confidence to fill up the entire street block, he leans in and shares his secret to success. He tells me, "To be successful, yes you have to be hardworking and tenacious, but you really have to be smart, and overly cocky."

I sat with that one for a while.

You must be smart and overly cocky?

How smart is smart? Like do you mean IQ smart or do you mean savvy? It's an important distinction. Smart seems to suggest it's something you are born with. You either have it or you don't have it. Without the privilege of smartness as a birthright, you may as well kiss success goodbye. Whereas, savvy is something you can learn. By putting your ear to the ground, observing without judgment, and giving people what they need, you can win them over to your side. I'd like to think when he said smart, he really meant savvy. With regards to cocky, the only thing that came to mind when I think "cocky" are douchebag finance guys.

I recently wrote an article on douchebags and guys in finance. (Unstereotyping me.) And according to word on the street – word on Wall Street – there are a lot of self-admitted shortcomings to dating a guy in finance. I never quite understood why finance guys are so cocky. I kept on wanting to find a nice, uncocky finance guy. You know, someone who's open and humble, but that's about as hard as digging for gold in sand. It wasn't until I read Brene Brown's Daring Greatly that it finally made sense. The culture of finance, Brown wrote, "is a Viking-or-Victim worldview. You are either a Victim in life – a sucker or a loser who's always being taken advantage of – or you're a Viking – someone who sees the threat of being victimized as a constant, so you stay in control, you dominate, you exert power over things, and you never show vulnerability." You see this culture in the military, in law, and in finance. "The world is divided into assholes and suckers. It's that simple," said a high-achieving lawyer.

But without vulnerability, it's impossible to connect. Without connection, it's impossible to fall in love. No wonder it's so hard to fall in love with a finance guy. They have this professional liability on their path to maturity.

What Brian meant by cocky, I think, is the only way to impress finance guys (who provide funding) is to one-up them in the cocky department. This is just my theory, of course.

Brian thinks what I'm doing is interesting and remarked on how slow my progress is, "I would find a remote place in the woods, and do the book in a week."

I grimaced. Slowness is something I struggle with myself. In my defense, he's talking about business writing where you just lay it out there in one draft and let the editor take care of the rest. Whereas I tinker with metaphors and dramatic structure, voice and style. Draft, rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, edit... but I didn't say any of that. I didn't know any of that before I started writing seriously, either.

"You've left Vancouver. One of the best decisions I've made is moving down to San Fran. And you know what you want to do. That's 90% of the battle." He informed me. Powerfully. Firmly. Authoritatively.

We also exchanged our views on love and relationships. Brian was happily single and I was forcefully decoupled. Looking me in the eye, he said, "True love waits." Again he said it powerfully, firmly, authoritatively, with the utmost conviction as though he'd experienced it firsthand.

I treasured that line like I treasured the last piece of Fererro Rocher in first grade, and tucked it in my pocket to keep it safe.

------------

Please remember to vote and comment loves! :)