perceptions

When he first met me, my former guy thought I was proper, “prissy” and materialistic. While he recently mentioned that he still thinks I’m prissy (what on earth does that even mean, prissy? and are there girls who aren’t?), I think he ultimately saw beyond his other misperceptions to a woman whose heart and values are in the right place.

A work colleague recently confessed that her now husband thought she was repulsive and obnoxious the first time they met…and now look!

One guy I dated pressed me about my first impressions about him until I finally confessed, “man boobs.” I said this while we were in bed. We both had a good laugh and, the next day, he started doing push ups.

My point is that perceptions are regularly skewed, our snap judgements are often just plain wrong, and it’s often more rewarding to keep our hearts and minds open and allow the magic of the universe to unfold.

I mean, what if it was all part of the cosmic plan for the hung-over ball player to be so put off by the gregarious, fun-loving woman from work, just so that he noticed her? Where would life have led them if he hadn’t?

What have you missed out on because you judged too quickly or harshly?

What beauty or bliss have you experienced because you led with your heart?

another first single weekend

This is my first weekend off (meaning without my children) since the break-up.

While we have exchanged a few texts and talked on the phone once since deciding to no longer see one another, we’ve mostly stuck to our agreement to not contact one another. My suspicion is that, if we were to do otherwise, it would be too easy to commiserate, to find ourselves back in each other’s arms… all of which, as lovely as it sounds, would derail us both from our long-term desires.

And yet, having awakened at 3am with watery eyes, a sore throat and clogged sinuses, called in sick and spent the day working from home in my pajamas, it’s tempting to play the sympathy card. After all, what could be the harm in asking someone to come and apply some balm to my wounds? It was bound to be a lonely weekend at any rate, I’m hoping to get better, stay strong and get some work done.

Will I resist temptation? Stay tuned…

bittersweet valentine

Today is a particularly bittersweet Valentine’s Day for me, as my guy and I recently decided to split. As I mentioned in my last post, I just wasn’t feeling those intense, urgent feelings that we associate with being in love (or infatuation, if you will).

I was happy, content to spend time with this man I enjoyed getting to know, actually pleased to be able to see him for the man he was — without the clouded judgment and crazy-making obsession — and like, love and care for him, warts and all. The status quo was enough. There were so many more things I looked forward to sharing with him. I could wait to see whether it would grow. But in my heart of hearts, I didn’t know that it would. And of course he wanted more than that…more than I could give right now.

Even after we talked about it, we went on with our plans for the evening, smooching at the deli counter, holding hands in the car, holding one another until the wee hours. It was tender, compassionate, honest, respectful…much as our relationship had been.

So while I’ve reflected on it all these past few days, the overwhelming feeling I’ve had is that I’m so incredibly blessed! Blessed and honored for the privilege of knowing such a wonderful man intimately, for the tender moments we shared and for the way we conducted ourselves throughout. I was proud of standing up for myself, drawing boundaries, expressing my feelings, needs and desires, for arguing without saying something that might cause un-doable harm and, in the end, for being honest with myself and with him about how I wasn’t feeling.

I’m sure I could list at least a hundred things I’ll miss about him, including his gentle touch, generosity and soft lips. I’ll miss hearing all the kind, life-affirming things he said to me — and I can only hope I said some kind things back to him that he will carry with him, too.

It was a wonderful relationship with the best possible break-up, one that leaves me feeling bittersweet and so, so blessed.

am I in love?

A while ago, I wrote about getting my guy one of those couples conversation starter kits, thereby bringing me up in his BCS standings. We took this acrylic cube filled with questions to lunch with us one lazy weekend day, pulling out cards and sharing our thoughts while waiting for our food.

I was a bit taken aback at a question that read, “When did you know you were in love with me?” And then, I took the lead in side-stepping it. My answer told him when I thought I’d begun to feel love for him because, frankly, after a few short months of dating, I wasn’t sure I was in love. But it was more than that…

I’m not sure I know any more what it means to be in love, much less what it feels like. Those feelings that I’d had what now seems aeons ago were of intense longing, ferocious protection and probably a desperately unhealthy co-dependence. In other words, I can clearly recall what it was like to feel infatuation. And I know what it feels like to have crushes — I’ve had many before and since my marriage.

So I know what crushes and infatuation feel like. I know what it means to love and to commit. Yet…while I always looked forward to the weekends that I’d see my boyfriend, I didn’t have longing or passion or butterflies-in-the-stomach anticipation about it. I kept waiting for those feelings to kick in, wondering if they would, hoping they might. And for a brief moment, they seemed to. Then the moment passed.

I have to wonder whether it’s just the timing — that I’m not ready to be in love, that I’m not capable of feeling that just now — or if it was something between us that was just not there. Or if it will come slowly, blossoming like a beautiful flower.

My heart is open. I’m going to have to trust that I’ll know when I’m feeling it.

boyfriend

Something subtle shifted inside me recently.

This subtle shift manifested in an external change that caught more than just me off guard. Evidently I’ve become comfortable enough in my young relationship to use a sort of shorthand. Among friends, I’ve begun referring to “the man I’ve been seeing” as simply “my boyfriend.”

A sharp girlfriend was quick to point out this slip over a glass of wine recently. I shrugged and admitted that I’m comfortable and enjoying it.

And then I had to think about it for awhile. Perhaps I hadn’t really wrapped my head around what two people in an exclusive relationship might call each other.

After I’d thought about it for awhile, I realized that this is what I’d wanted. All those first dates — meeting complete strangers through a computer screen — were about getting to where I am at this moment: I have a boyfriend. I am in a relationship. I don’t know where this is going, but I’m enjoying getting and giving attention, being romantic, holding hands, kissing. I am happy.

Perhaps it sounds strange that I’d agreed to be exclusive awhile back and hadn’t yet thought of “the man I’ve been seeing” as “my boyfriend.” Perhaps it’s because I don’t particularly like to be called a “girlfriend” (except by my girlfriends), or perhaps it’s just taken me awhile to wrap my head around the concept of a new, positive relationship that may have some potential, or perhaps I’ve just had a lagging mental indicator based on my absolute conviction to take things slowly. At any rate, my brain finally appears to be catching up.

I have a boyfriend. And there is a smile on my face.

(And there is a part of me that is terrified to hit “publish” on the off-chance that saying so just might jinx it…)

what a wife wants

I hear my guy throw “I’m a bachelor” often in response to the way he takes care of himself — e.g. lots of take-out food, cigars, etc. I wouldn’t say there’s any issue with these behaviors, but the “I’m a bachelor” default could become a worrisome habit if we were to enter a more serious stage of our relationship. I often find myself wanting to coach or prep him for what a wife wants, whether that woman is me or some another lucky lady. But it’s hard to balance my commitment to not making a project of him with keeping up habits of excellent communication. I’d rather see what he has to offer than try to train him to be something I want…a husband who…

Plans for an abundant future, both financially and physically:

Takes care of home and property.
Saves for retirement.
Eats right, exercises, has healthy habits.
Releases what is no longer needed.

Pitches in around the house:

Can prepare a healthy meal for the family.
Can make a bed, do laundry, fold clothes, etc.
Can clean or, in lieu of cleaning, votes for hiring a housekeeper.

Keeps his own friends and interests:

We all need time alone and other healthy relationships.

Has good habits / manners:

Puts the toilet seat down.
Picks up after himself.
Keeps his stuff organized.

Is loving:

Prioritizes to make time to stay connected.
Plans the occasional surprise.
Learns my love language(s).

Knows:

That where there are children involved, your time is not your own, and you must simply surrender to the present needs of the family.
How to fix a thing or two around the house, and when to call in the experts, instead.

does water seek its own level?

A few weeks ago…

One of the common relationship aphorisms that sticks in my mind is “water seeks its own level.” The counselor my ex and I went to years ago, in fact, said this to us. And, for reasons I shall soon share, it has come to mind again…

I’ve been seeing the gentleman once accused of aggravated assault (sounds kind of badass, doesn’t it?!). Very early in our getting to know each other, he confessed to me just about everything you can imagine a person unloading: a troubled childhood, severed ties with family, medical history and more. He still sees a therapist to work through the whole arrest ordeal. As I wrote earlier, he doesn’t look so good on paper.

And yet there’s something about him… I know, you’re groaning. And you should be. The last thing I need is a project.

We were chatting the one night (just before he told me everything) and I recall teasing, “You don’t scare me at all! …but I’m pretty sure I scare the living hell out of you!”

Now I think it’s fair to say that I’m a little scared.

So I’m wondering if the roots of my attraction are reflected in shared experience: I’ve written about how the failing of my most significant relationship shattered my self-esteem. What I’ve yet to share is a story that I guess it never dawned on me that I’d need to write about here. But now I do.

More than three years ago, I went through a crisis in my family — the very family I helped to create. I was emotionally traumatized. When I think about it, the image I see of myself during that time is me in bed, nearly catatonic and drooling, unable to get up, unclean and unable to go to work.

Memory is a liar. In fact, in the midst of the worst of it, I rose each day, showered, dressed and went to work. I obliquely mentioned to co-workers that I was going through a stressful time with a family crisis, my head was cloudy and I apologized for any areas in which my incapacity caused them to overcompensate during this couple of weeks. (I suppose it needn’t be said that this was a precursor to the split, another manifestation of the symptoms and issues of all that was wrong in my marriage.)

As I slowly “recovered,” I didn’t realize the entirety of the damage to my psyche. I may have believed that I was functioning at full capacity just weeks later, yet external feedback (processed and accepted more deeply after the fact) suggests otherwise. Thus, nearly six months later, I found myself being treated for depression. Within 48 hours of taking a serotonin enhancer, I was a completely different person — a person more like the self I knew.

Still, something in my brain seemed to have changed. My ability to concentrate or focus never really seemed to return to 100%. In other words, the emotional trauma had done sustained damage. For awhile, I thought it was the depression, allergies, hormones or any number of things that can cloud one’s thinking. I’ve since read up on it and, with no formal training or diagnosis, believe that I experienced some amount of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I worked with my usual tools to alleviate the symptoms — applied kinesiology (AK), yoga, meditation, organic diet,cognitive therapy, and Holosynch, a meditation soundtrack that puts the brain into a deeply relaxed state. I quit a stressful job. I’ve been selective about the energy in my environment (people, places and media).

Still, having done this work, I find myself drawn to someone still very much in the midst of healing himself.

So I wonder what this attraction says about me:

Do the things that resonate between us have to do with our pain? And, if so, haven’t I already been there? Haven’t I rebuilt my self-esteem? Haven’t I done the hard work?
Or is it because of his strength and maturity, having worked through so much, and that he strikes me as so adult…and so willing to embrace all of life head-on?

put on “keep warm” status

Guys do this to us. They stay in contact, loosely, leaving us on the back burner and checking in every so often, just to make sure we’re still “warm.”

Heck, I’m pretty sure you could characterize more-like-it‘s behavior toward me this way… For awhile, he’d reach out once every week or two just to say “hey,” sometimes to say something suggestive, but not ever to take action. I liked him, still do…but it was infuriating. Infuriating because I wanted him to call and say, “Hey, when can I see you?” or something much more forward.

Some girlfriends and I sat on a patio with cocktails one evening chatting about this “keep warm” thing men do to us. And here’s what we concluded: Why shouldn’t we do it to them?

being adored

In addition to learning to be vulnerable all over again, I find that there’s a bit of an adjustment period to allowing one’s self to be appreciated. Goodness me, it’s sometimes difficult and uncomfortable to accept a steady stream of kind, thoughtful and flattering words, behaviors and attention! It’s been a long time since a fella has adored me for being me — all of me, which can be a lot! — and one hardly knows what to make of it all…

I find that I have three conflicting (and rather telling) automatic responses to all of this:

The first is to be skeptical and suspicious, to wonder if I’m being flattered to some end, or played. But as I quickly rule this out, I wonder:
Have I aimed too low? Is this man who seems to adore me putting me on some sort of pedestal? Does he worship me because I’m somehow a better combination of smarter and prettier than he’s dated in the past? (Egad, this appears so narcissistic in black and white!) Stated even more plainly: “He likes me; what on earth is wrong with him?!”
Finally, I have to concede that it’s possible that a kind, intelligent and attractive man simply enjoys my company, respects me, finds me attractive, and treats me as I ought to be treated.

Let me point out that I think it’s big of me to admit the kind of bullshit that I’ve uncovered in my psyche. Here’s the truth: I’ve always gone for really attractive men — often the kind of men who are out of reach, unattainable, narcissistic, or who I somehow end up feeling that I have to chase or do something to be worthy. I may have felt I’d achieved something by “getting” that kind of man in the past (for the time we were together) but, in the end, there was always a part of me that ended up feeling insecure in ways.

This time, it’s different. I know that for a relationship to be successful, I’m going to need to let someone into my life who adores me for just being who I am. I wrote earlier about paying attention to my feelings, observing a man’s behavior and actually putting some of the “dating theory” type stuff I’ve learned into practice. A man will demonstrate the type of person he is. He will show me right from the beginning how he intends to treat me. And I will create very clear expectations.

I see myself doing this in relationship to a beau these days and, against all odds, these new behaviors, attitudes and perspective are coming quite naturally to the fierce new me: I let him call, plan and make dinner reservations; I allow him to buy me dinner; I expect him to open doors for me and offer me his coat when I’m chilled; I don’t protest when he says or does something kind; I surrender to his putting my pleasure before his own. And I find I’m quite okay with being adored!

the Chicago trip Chi-guy wrap

Having mentioned my Chicago family vacation and seeing Chi-guy, I feel somewhat obligated to provide a bit of a summary. And it’s been a few days since my last post…

First, let me divulge that I know my feelings for Chi-guy have been deeper and stronger than they’ve ever had reason to be. I have such love for this man, this flawed fellow human — it’s almost as though we’ve gone through some terrifying, exhilarating experience together (i.e. parallel divorces) that’s bonded us…except I’m not sure whether he feels that bond, at least not in the same way. At any rate, he is just a regular man. Amazing in some ways — witty, playful, so smart, sexy, handsome — and flawed in others: overindulgent as a father, cynical, and sometimes his humor veers toward mean funny (as I once described as douchebag humor in this post about him).

Let me also say that I’m done chasing men and have learned to let go of expectations. I had no thoughts that anything romantic or physical might happen — particularly since I was traveling with children (one of whom refuses to go to sleep in new / strange places without me). Still, there was a twinkling of hopeful “what if?” in the back of my mind…

Here’s what didn’t happen:

Romantic interludes or overtures: he did not seek me out after our children had fallen asleep to wrap his arms around me and make-out (fun though that might have been)…but we did get to spend a little quality time chatting on his deck. And we didn’t enact this shower fantasy of mine.
Falling more deeply into infatuation: I love this man. I don’t even know why, really. But it’s the sort of agape feeling of wanting the best for another and letting go. I have no pangs of yearning or wantonness for him (that I think I probably did several months ago).

So what happened?

We drove to his place and he dropped us at our downtown hotel, since the parking is free and convenient in his neighborhood.
He gave us a couple of museum family passes to enjoy some of the grand attractions in the city.
He picked us back up a couple of days later and took us for dinner, and then we had a sleepover play date (involving that horrid creation, the inflatable air bed) with him and his daughter.
He was ever the well-mannered, charming, generous man I’ve come to know, while still maintaining his boundaries.
His omitting the presence in his life of a girlfriend to me and a play date with me to her got him into a bit of hot water (with her, not me).