my own worst enemy

I have a date planned today with someone I met online. I have vowed to keep an open mind, enjoy meeting new people, focus on how I feel when I’m with a man and, ultimately, make better relationship choices. I actually met this fellow for coffee a couple of weeks ago (working around our respective parenting schedules) and we enjoyed each other enough to agree to meet again.

As I go into this date, I am trying to be open to the possibility that I might allow myself to truly enjoy getting to know someone new — no artificial barriers, no comparisons to other men. I have vowed to enjoy dating. Yet I feel the old patterns trying to work their way back. Let me elaborate:

As a Libra, I’m born to partner. I enjoy the sharing and closeness of being in a relationship. I fall quickly and easily, and I feel natural and at ease in the throes of infatuation with a mate. I love falling in love — so much so that one might say I’m in love with being in love. This astrological affectation can also cause a girl to lose herself in the role of girlfriend / wife / lover.

Thus, I’ve been on a relationship treadmill pretty much since high school, from boyfriend to boyfriend, rarely spending enough time enjoying myself to know what I really want or how to express myself authentically in a relationship. The most alone time I’ve ever had was in my marriage — that’s when I figured out who I am, grew strong and realized that the kind of relationship I desire was vastly different from what I had.

When I wasn’t in a relationship, I was crushing hard on someone. Usually someone unavailable…look at Max, for example. Max, married and miles away, was part mad crush, part obsession and probably the perfect fantasy for someone half in and half out of a marriage. He affirmed my strength and renewed my hope that I could find love again. And, not so long after I let the idea of him go, I found someone else — another unavailable man, another long-distance object of my affection — to fill the gap.

I mentioned my current “high water mark” earlier. Most days, I find myself bemused by our flirtatious friendship; it just feels good to have a crush! Other days, I find myself a bit too married to the idea of exploring the energy between us and closed to the possibility that my ultimate life mate might be someone else. Part of me wants to cling to the thought that maybe someday, we might share something truly special. Because it feels somehow safe to think that way. Yet I’ve begun to see how I’m using this hope, this fantasy, as a defensive tactic to prevent me from getting close to anyone new, anyone real, anyone who’s actually here and available and wants to get to know me. He has become an emotional surrogate, an imaginary boyfriend, to whom I unconsciously pledged my faithfulness to prevent myself from letting anyone else in. For the second time in my life, I’m seeing a part of myself that would rather hold out for a fantasy than allow me to risk finding something real, and this realization scares the shit out of me!

I keep telling myself that my high water mark embodies all those qualities I want to find in a partner, but I don’t actually know him that well. This is to say that, while he may indeed have every single characteristic on my list, I haven’t been around him enough to witness or experience those things. And I also tell myself that I’m open to the universe bringing me all those wonderful qualities and more in a partner. But is being open to [insert guy’s name here]+more the same as being open to true possibility? I think not. I’m not truly detached to the outcome. So I’m likely to compare every new man I meet or date to this other guy, rather than measuring him on his own merits and what I experience with him.

Heartbreak creates the illusion that there are two paths to choose from: on one hand, there’s the fear of being alone; on the other, the fear of setting one’s heart free to love again, to be vulnerable, to let someone in. But I see now that this is a false choice.

My path forward will be to revel in the happiness that can only come from loving myself. And I will cultivate courage, learn to lower my defenses and allow someone entirely new to see me authentically. For perhaps the first time in my life, I’m going to open myself to genuine possibility.

analysis of the unexpected call

Yesterday I wrote about one of the most bizarre and uncomfortable conversations I can recall having. Today I will reflect a bit more deeply on this discussion and the relationship minefields it brought up.

A day later, I’m still flabbergasted that this friend, the thought of whom has not crossed my mind since I addressed holiday cards, believes me to be harboring some sort of feelings for him. What might have given him that impression?

I am a firm believer in taking responsibility and in karma and, for all those fools who wonder why there’s so much drama in their lives, I say it’s because they attract it. But I have shed need for drama in my life…so what part do I have in all this? And what do we owe others in relationships — platonic, romantic or committed?

First let’s look at my own questionable behavior. I was not entirely respectful toward Genna, Adonis’s live-in girlfriend, when I last saw her several months ago. That is to say I did not treat her as the woman of the house. My friendship with Adonis goes back many years to when he lived in the same home with his wife, and I simply defer to him as the homeowner and host when I visit. Still, being a woman, I suppose the most appropriate course of action would be for me to communicate primarily with Genna and treat her as the hostess. Are such rigid social roles necessary in 2011? Oh, all right, I suppose rigidity is neither here nor there, when one has behaved like an insolent brat.
In my defense, while keeping up a friendship with me, Adonis has not been forthcoming with updates, such as “I’ve been seeing Genna for a few months now” and “Genna and I are living together” or even casually bringing her up in conversation. And these are the sorts of things most of us tell our friends. In fact, I might go so far as to suggest that it was disrespectful of Adonis to fail to bring up the critical fact that “this is now Genna’s home, too.” Add to this that Adonis has made it clear he does not intend to get married (this is fine with Genna). Are the ways in which he behaves towards her providing me cues about how to behave toward her, as well? I can say with certainty that I want my mate to let others know when we reach relationship milestones, such as moving in together.
What would compel a man with whom I haven’t spoken for a few months (and with whom previous conversations were related to cars) to believe that I was holding out hope of a relationship with him? I wrote recently about having a “high water mark” among my single friends — and Adonis, while a beautiful specimen — is not him. Even if we’ve flirted in the past, isn’t this a classic case of Narcissism? And if I have a tendency to attract Narcissistic men, does that mean I am also a Narcissist? Or is my awareness a critical first step along the path to healing?
I’ve been so busy trying to figure out how this misunderstanding happened that I forgot to bring up probably the #1 Cardinal Rule for Men and my biggest relationship pet peeve: Do not ever tell a woman how she feels. Ever. Or assume you know how a woman feels. (My ex was the master of this misbehavior: he assumed and he never bothered to take the time to verify. p.s. He also didn’t bother to address his own feelings. He just projected onto me.) A woman is much better equipped to know her own feelings, even if so many of us have been socialized to suppress them. Or even if she doesn’t know them, it would be better to begin with, “You seem upset…” Adonis could have handled all this weirdness in a much gentler, less offensive way. He might have asked, “Are you sure you’re not mad? Because I was sensing some… and I observed… and last time I saw you, you said… and so I thought…” Telling me how I feel is never going to get a positive response.
I’ve been told that I have a very “sultry” energy about me, something alluring or intriguing without being full-on sexual, a certain je ne sais quoi. (Mostly I’ve been told this by other women.) Truth be told, I am not often conscious of having such energy, nor do I feel adept at using this to my advantage. Is this cluelessness about my own feminine energy causing confusion among others? Have I been casually and unconsciously flinging signals about in all directions?
Folks in the Midwest are known for indirect communication. Often, things I’ve said quite plainly have been interpreted to mean something wholly different from either what I said or intended. I once remarked to a man that he had beautiful eyes and was immediately told by a bystander that this man was married. Is it really a crime to compliment someone simply because he or she is married? My goodness! I sincerely meant that the bloke had beautiful eyes — nothing more! (And I’d like to think that others would see my compulsion to blurt such things out as innocent and disarming.) By the same token, when I suggest we go out for sushi, I’m merely suggesting that because we both like sushi, we might grab some sometime. It’s not an exclusive sort of invitation, nor is it a suggestion that “maybe you want to step out on your girl in favor of me…”
There are surely some lessons in this experience with which I can and will use to cultivate my own maturity:
- curb the social drinking, particularly when functioning brain-to-mouth filters are necessary (I have an under-developed filtration system as is)
- be more conscious of cultural boundaries
- use provocation cautiously and reserve it for intellectual discourse
- don’t flirt with men in relationships, particularly in front of their S.O. (you’d think this would be obvious, but some of us are apparently slow learners)
- communicate with as much clarity as possible

Bottom line? I still think my conversation with Adonis was outrageous, and I continue to be befuddled at how it all got so convoluted. Is Adonis projecting his own feelings onto me? It’s pretty clear he has regrets. I admit, accept and take full responsibility for behaving badly toward Genna.

What do you make of it all?

goodbye, Max

About a year ago…

On the final night that we stayed with Max and his family, I took the children to a local attraction while Max and his wife prepared their children for bed. For them, it was back to school as normal.

When we arrived back at the house, Max had already gone to bed, as he had to be to work very early in the morning. I asked his wife to make sure he said good-bye in the morning. It would be the last I’d see of him for who knew how long.

Sure enough, at some ungodly hour that seemed still the middle of the night to me, I heard stirring in the house as Max woke and began readying for work. I tossed and turned, trying to fall back asleep, telling myself it didn’t really matter whether he said good-bye or not. I thought about getting up and brushing my teeth, but didn’t. After what seemed a very long time, I heard steps coming toward the guest room and a knock at the door.

I bolted out of bed just as Max whispered, “I’m off to work, but I wanted to come and tell you good-bye.” We embraced tightly, caressing each others backs. Max leaned down and touched his lips to mine. Damn! Why hadn’t I gotten up to brush my teeth?! It was electric. All the passion we’d buried was in that simple, innocent gesture. We kissed again, lips closed and yet not at all chastely.

The thought that came into my mind is a saying that goes something like this: A butterfly flaps its wings; far across the sea, a hurricane forms. As if all the energy in this simple act was channelled, reverberating somewhere halfway around the world. (Sure enough, days later, an earthquake occurred off the coast of Chile, causing tsunami fears as far away as Hawaii.)

And then Max left.

I tossed and turned some more, trying to sleep. Eventually, I heard Max’s children getting ready for school, and I woke my own offspring to bid them goodbye. We packed our things for a mid-day departure and took Max’s wife and a mutual friend out for breakfast. We said our good-byes, loaded the rental car and made a few last-minute souvenir stops on our way toward the airport.

As I drove past the intersection at which I would have turned to go to the local office — Max’s office — tears began streaming from my eyes. I wept silently and uncontrollably, dabbing at my eyes and blowing my nose with whatever napkins I could find in the car, trying to contain myself for the sake of my children safely strapped in the back seat. I wept for all that I would never know or share with this man, and for the hope that I would find a partner of my own. I wept all the way to the airport and was, only then, able to pull myself together and brace myself for the our flight back to reality.

vacation to Max land

About a year ago…

And so it was decided: my children and I would travel to the coast on vacation and stay with family and friends, including Max and his family, while my ex packed up his belongings.

I was nervous, excited and sooo not ready to be seen in a bathing suit by a hottie!

We began our vacation staying with friends and family, going to the beach, the pool, on hikes, boating and more. It was wonderful, relaxing and fun! I felt both embraced in love by the people around me and pushed to the limits of adventure.

As we ventured closer geographically to Max’s home and to the days we would be spending with him and his family, my excitement and nervousness grew. At the same time, I knew that he knew I was near, and both hoped and feared he would reach out to me. He did not.

The day we were to begin our three-night stay at Max’s home, the children and I had a day trip planned. We arrived just in time for dinner, shared warm hugs all around, introduced our children and enjoyed a nice meal.

After dinner, Max’s wife and I sat on the patio with a glass of wine and bonded over horror stories about our failed first marriages. Max excused himself to flip through channels.

Over the next couple of days, we went to the beach, talked work war stories, shared family meals and relaxed. Max’s boss was making his life miserable, and Max was stressed and hangdog about having to go back to the office on Monday. When we talked, it was about exes or work, avoiding anything too intimate or discussion of the closeness that had developed between us via text and email; our relationship was the elephant in the corner.

I pined to reach out and touch Max each and every time we were physically near each other, but of course I daren’t. I was so watchfully conscious of my own behavior that I felt physically awkward. I would have loved to have had some time alone with Max, but I didn’t know whether I could trust myself.

As our families spent our last evening together dining on the patio together, I felt a mild disappointment. Max was a decent guy — still gorgeous, who seemed to be conditioned by an older generation’s gender roles, appeared to be very into his cable channels (read boring) and was, ultimately, disappointingly human. Alas, he was not the super human life force I had recalled from our previous face-to-face encounters. And likely nor was I the dynamic woman he’d anticipated seeing.

It was fair to assume that we were no longer infatuated with one another.

no more sex

About 18 months ago…

There was simply no emotional intimacy in my marriage any longer. My husband was dishonest and had made decisions that affected our family without talking to me; the betrayals were insidious. My mistrust was so complete that I was constantly wondering what and when the next big betrayal would be. I had lost hope. And I had already determined to end it.

So it came as a surprise to me when, after so many months of abstinence, my husband complained about not getting any sex.

I raged, “How can you expect physical intimacy when you’ve denied me emotional intimacy for so long?! It goes both ways.”

The fact is, I enjoy sex. I probably wanted it more than he did. And I always found him physically attractive. But I couldn’t even look him in the eye anymore, much less share myself in such an intimate way.

But I think the bigger question is this: Are men really that clueless? Do they really think if they’re not getting any, that they have nothing to do with it?

Oh, wait…I think I may be able to answer this one myself…

the midlife crisis explained

I took a workshop by Dr. Joe Dispenza one day recently. He talks and writes about how we can use brain science to transform our lives. He is also a chiropractor and practices yoga. What I love about him is that he takes a concept so many people think of as New Age or woo-woo, explains the very real brain science behind it and makes it practical.

So, imagine my surprise as I’m eagerly waiting to do a guided meditation exercise, when he brings up the midlife crisis. Apparently, there are real reasons for this phenomenon!

He highlighted the outer manifestations — people getting divorced, quitting their jobs, deciding to circumnavigate the world in a sail boat. Most often, it seems, we are able to see what others are shedding, releasing or giving up. We rarely understand the reasons for this or what new beliefs they are bringing into their lives. Most often, we look at these people and ask, “have they lost their minds?!”

The answer, according to Dr. Joe is YES! And that can be a good thing:

You see, by age 35 or 40, our brain is 95% completely formed. Connections are in place, we’re often married, working and parenting by this time. We are socializing with people in groups that may have been formed based on our children’s school associations or through work or merely by where we live. And suddenly we realize that the outward vision of what others see of us and how we feel about ourselves are completely different. We may not even like the people we’re working so hard to impress!

Often, there is some feeling of fear or anxiety or lack of self-worth that we’ve failed to process or deal with along the way and, often, we’re not even conscious of this. But for those of us who have or are going through it, we know something is wrong and we act out in one of two ways:

We drop out. We begin to make changes by releasing what is no longer serving us, whether it be relationships, jobs, careers, our home (the illusion of stability). We are willing to give up everything to find something more authentic and meaningful and true to us.
We try to fill the gap between how we feel and how we’re perceived. This is where the sports cars, trophy mistresses and jewelry and such come in — sometimes creating tremendous debt. Or we may try to fill this gap with alcohol or other substances which, because they don’t effectively work on any authentic level, require more and more over time, becoming addiction.

I’m not sure I’m explaining this very well, and I highly recommend you buy the new Dr. Joe Dispenza book when it comes out or, better yet, attend a workshop. He gave me so much to think about!

And, of course, at the next break I rushed to the front of the room to proudly proclaim that “I am this cliché you were talking about! I just got divorced, turned forty and quit my job, and I’m so excited about the opportunities out there for me, because I know I can create something better!”

Dr. Joe gently held my arm, began nodding his head up and down, and said, “When you’re saying that, make sure your matching it in your body. You’ve been shaking your head from side to side as you said that.”

Busted! My body was saying “no” while my mind was screaming “YES!” Now to get my body to catch up with my brain…

happy VD!

This being a blog about relationships and failure, it’s only appropriate that I publish some snarky or cynical commentary about how much will be spent on cheap boxes of chocolates or the even less original gift of a dozen red roses.

But the truth is that I love Valentine’s Day! I love the whole idea of a day devoted to love, even if I wish we could all devote ourselves to be more loving every day. And I hope to one day find someone with similar romantic notions, who doesn’t balk at doing something special for this “Hallmark holiday.”

I suppose it goes without saying that I don’t have a Valentine this year. I’ll be making dinner for my children — and I picked up a few exquisite chocolate desserts as a special treat for the sweetest blessings in my life!

Here’s where I’m at with searching for a Valentine: I’m starting to date. I plan to date more than one gentlemen at a time, I’m going to enjoy meeting lots of new people and I plan to take things very, very slowly.

I had a pretty good first date this weekend, in fact. By “good first date,” I mean we had coffee, a nice conversation and were both interested enough to have agreed to meet again, for lunch. We spent no more than an hour together and shook hands at the end. There was no instantaneous magic, no first-date kissing.

I’ve got a profile up on an online dating site (more on that later) and am sitting back and letting men contact me. I’m reading up on and learning more about dating — all those things that I never felt the need to do the first time around. It’s different now that I’m older, and I’d like to make more prudent decisions based on a more solid understanding of relationship dynamics.

There is a man I’m interested in. And by interested I mean that he’s my current high water mark among single men I’ve met…so far. (Should it be obvious that the high water mark is even higher if I count married male friends of mine? Should I accept that my standards are lower for single guys? Or is it normal, given that I haven’t observed these single guys in the role of husband and father which, were I able to observe this, might raise the bar?)

In any case, this single guy is smart, attractive, funny and has impeccable manners — and I feel incredibly feminine when I’m with him. This is not to say that he’s perfect. I like his humanity and candor, and I like that he’s trying to become a better human. I love feeling as though I could talk to him forever and not get bored, and I think he’ll make some lucky woman a wonderful companion one day. I’d like the opportunity to spend more time with him and explore the chemistry I feel when we’re together, but this is difficult as we live far apart. I sent him a casual, funny Valentine, yet I’ve no idea whether he thinks of me as anything more than a flirtatious friend.

Even so, I’m not waiting around for him to make a move…because with all this creating I’ve been doing, I know the universe may have someone even better in store for me. And even if I don’t expect any sort of Valentine today, a girl can always hope for next year!

there goes the neighborhood

One day last winter, I logged in to a social networking site to find that a married male friend’s status update indicated that his wife — I’ll call her Sally — was leaving him for another man.

Given that Sally was also a friend of mine, I was a bit shocked by this news.

So I did what women do: I called a mutual friend and screeched, “Oh my God, girl, have you been on facebook!? Did you know anything about this?!”

This mutual friend admitted that she had heard, just days earlier, about Sally’s blossoming affair. Such drama! And amongst our quiet, family-friendly circle!

“I don’t know what to say!” I exclaimed.

This girlfriend then told me straight, “I think you need to call Sally and tell her that.”

“Good point,” I said. Gulp! Avoiding the impulse to analyze and delay, I hung up and immediately dialed Sally.

“Hello,” she answered, a knowing tone in her voice.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said.

“I seem to have that effect today,” she replied. “Never before have I rendered so many speechless.”

“You beat us to the punchline,” I retorted, referencing the fact that my husband had agreed to move out…but hadn’t yet. And we hadn’t even told the children at this point.

“I’m taking the low road all the way,” she deadpanned. And then she briefly recounted the unraveling of her marriage, the failed counseling, the meeting of her new beau, what they had told the children…promising to fill me in on details at another time.

We all knew Sally and her husband struggled, just as everyone knew that my husband and I were struggling. But I certainly didn’t anticipate such an abrupt and dramatic finale. They had appeared, at least to me, to communicate and relate in a such as way as to have the potential to salvage their relationship…until now, in any case. Sally’s husband’s broadcasting the news via social media was clearly a cry for the sympathy vote, and a rather low one, at that.

The ultimate effect of this drama for me, at least, was that my divorce would be neither the first nor ugliest amongst our group, relieving some of the pressure and fear I’d had about the steps we’d yet to take. I no longer felt so uniquely conspicuous, and my children would now have friends who had experienced similar family upheaval.

Somehow, all this cause me to feel just a little relieved.

me or Max, misunderstood

About 14 months ago…

It was actually before we broke the news to our children that their father was moving out that I had a “lovers’ quarrel” of sorts with Max. Of course we weren’t lovers, and it was more of a misunderstanding that went something like this:

I misinterpreted a joke (I took it too literally) and thought, with disgust, “Who does he think I am? Does he really think I’m that stupid?!” I probably should have responded with this thought, but I’m sure my reply (I no longer recall exactly) was something more passive-aggressive in nature.

He replied with a text, “One of the things I always liked about you was your sense of humor.”

In a haze of loneliness and hormones (read PMS), I escalated, lashed out and started a drama cycle that lasted from one evening through the next morning from text to email and back again. I confess I spent a few hours in tears for, during this “spat,” three things happened:

I recently mentioned a conversation about being alone with a divorced colleague who asked me if I’d ever feared being alone for the rest of my life. Well, this emotional crisis, this exchange with Max took me there. Somewhere in the midst of it, I experienced that horrific fear that maybe, just maybe, I would be alone for the rest of my life. I had connected with another man, but connecting with unavailable men was only going to get me to where? Alone.
I realized how emotionally dependent I’d become on a man who was not available to me. And then I realized this was my pattern. Many of my relationships had been long distance, I had crushed on too many fellas that were gay or already in relationships or, for whatever reason, were not going to be able to commit to me. And, as part of this realization, it dawned on me once again that…
I don’t want to be anyone’s fantasy. I want to be a wonderful man’s wonderful reality. And if he’s not in a position to commit to me and be in a relationship and create a real life together, then I want nothing to do with it! I mean, I can flirt and play, but I’ll be in control and I’m not going to let myself get attached to or involved with another man who sees me as a distraction, a daydream or fantasy. The men can fantasize all they want, but I’m going to keep myself from being emotionally drawn into it.

And with these realizations, I knew that my relationship with Max could not go on as it was, that I needed to be less dependent on him. As much as he and his attention had been gifts and had helped me to reclaim my intuition and confidence, our flirtatious friendship — or, rather, my reliance on it — was now doing me as much harm as good. To him, I may have been an intelligent, beautiful, attractive woman with whom he shared chemistry and mutual crush. But no matter how much he respected me, our relationship could never be one of equals, because he was going home to his wife and step-children each day, while I was sleeping alone.

alone…forever?

About 10 months ago…

I was chatting with a colleague at an after-hours event, when he asked me how things were going. He was divorced, and I knew he was asking about my personal life.

“Ah, it’s all right,” I moaned. “There is light at the end of the tunnel.”

He looked at me and asked, “Have you ever been afraid you’d always be alone?”

“No,” I replied. “But thank you for introducing that suggestion into my impressionable mind.”

“I remember one night when I was home alone, shortly after I’d moved out . . . it suddenly dawned on me that I might be alone forever. It was a terrifying realization.”

Truthfully, this thought had never occurred to me. As I explained to my colleague, I have my children and my friends, and I always just assumed that life was going to be better once he was gone. I mean emotionally better, lighter. How could I possibly fear being alone when I was lonelier in my marriage than I can ever remember feeling before?

Sure, I had plenty of fears — I had been terrified of telling our children, our close-knit neighborhood and family members. Being alone wasn’t one of them…yet.