Irina D. (2) (SEE) - On Relationships

People used to always come to me for "heart-to-heart" talks about life. I’ll listen to someone if they truly need it. I can always lend an ear, but not always for long. These things are starting to wear me out. Sometimes girlfriends would come over to talk and ask for advice. You speak, you give advice, but then they don't do it or don't even want to grasp the point. People who just want to talk nonsense or talk aimlessly irritate me.

I start to fade; I lose interest. I do feel sorry for people sometimes; I empathize with them. I can even cry out of pity.

Most often, they come to figure out their relationships or to cry on my shoulder. Usually, I can tell them the outlook of their relationship. I’m good at deconstructing relationships: who is into whom, for what reason, and why.

I know how to make people fall for me. The main thing is, "there must be courage and fire in your eyes!" When there’s no fire, no one follows. But then, the spark appears! That spark is probably in my genes, in my subconscious. You behave differently depending on the situation. But if I need a man, if he catches my interest, I will absolutely win his favor.

If I'm interested in the dynamics between people, I only have to look at them—they don't even need to speak. I can see it in their eyes: the way someone looked at another—I catch that look instantly. I immediately determine what’s going on in that relationship. I suppose my own eyes can change, too; I can change my expression at will.

If I need to negotiate or agree on something with someone, I rarely fail. I usually show up with tokens of appreciation: chocolates, champagne, coffee, or good tea. Once, I needed to get a favorable work decision from a certain lady.

Inside, I wasn't sure things would go my way, but my "acting mode" switched on automatically. I asked her—she refused. Inside, I started searching—how do I approach this?!

I began to look for an opening. I thought, "Should I squeeze out a tear, or try something else?"

I started working on my face—maybe I look sick, maybe I'm turning pale; I don't know, but it starts working. "I won't survive it if you refuse me," I told her. "I'm having a heart attack right now," and I started rolling my eyes. "I'm going to die right here in front of you!"

She believed me. And this lady was no pushover—you couldn't fool her easily. "Alright, let's figure something out!" she said.

Hierarchy has never existed for me, and it still doesn't. I don't "feel" that someone is a boss. The main thing is that a person is good and worthy of respect; it doesn't matter if they are a janitor or a director. Just behave normally—without rudeness or belittling others.