Contrived Love. Valentine's Day is for Suckers

The filter through which I chose, evaluate and process my relationship is a bit skewed.  Knowing that helps me understand why certain types of guys appeal to me without understanding what I actually want from those men when I have the full focus of their attentions.  Male attention is a tricky and slippery slope for me.  I developed a little early, that doesn't mean I always had these luscious golden ta ta's, because I was flat as a board till my daughters came,  though I had lots of curves, and great legs from eleven years of ballet (and still have crap rhythm and the grace of drunk stripper).  But from about eleven on, whenever I was in the company of any man, the focus on my figure was a problem for me.  I could see them sneaking looks or outright staring.  I remember once walking across the street in a bikini that had literally caused a three car accident in Va. Beach, VA when I was 16.  Or walking across K Street, not far from GW University with my friend Marc as a cab driver stared at me too long causing him to pull the man out of his car, through the window and fight him in the street as his taxi kept going down the road, not that we were in anyway dating or romantic, he just felt the man had disrespected him, because he could not know the nature of our relationship when he chose to stare at me.  Those days and that body are dead to me now.... but cemented many of my feelings about men in general and their attentions in particular.

Boys and men seemed to notice me a lot when I was young and I hated it. Aside from just being an introvert, I was a tomboy of the highest order.  A full out competitive little, bully, who ran the boys in my neighborhood and my family, like the bossy, busy body, everyone knew me to be.  So getting all of this unwanted attention, created an uncomfortable dilemma.  My father was one of five boys.  His brothers, were and those that remain alive, are still crazy men, who partied hard, and ran with a loyal ride or die type of crew that only seems to thrive in poor, ethnic, urban neighborhoods.  I had always heard my father and mother argue about why my da spent so much time with his friends and brothers.  Usually a quiet, stoic, introvert himself, my father once, stopped right in his tracks, his brown leather jacket still held akimbo, while he looked at my mom's frustrated face, and said simply, I go when they call because any of them would take a bat to the head of anyone who would do me or mine harm.  That would come back to haunt me later in life.

But at eleven years old, my focus was mainly on playing in the creek behind our home, with the boys, catching frogs, turtles and building dams, leading raids, storming fortes, and reading any book I could get my hands on.  I was such a freak of nature, and my entire life seemed destined to be and remain compartmentalized.  The boys I played with, loved the fact that we could hang out and get dirty, watch Bruce Lee, The God Father movies, play pool, ping pong, flag football or whatever yet they never knew, I loved poetry or classical french literature, or that I was developing a yen for Sartre and Camus.  I loved Barbara Streisand more than the popular music my girlfriends wanted to listen to, and would rather listen to Vivaldi than Air Supply. 

My main goal was trying to please the new and impossibly difficult man in my life, Father Francis Pizzarelli, though he was a Brother at the time.  This was no easy feat because my home life was for crap, with my dad allowing the men he was managing in an African Jazz Band to live in our home, the arguments between him and my mom that ensued as she would come home from working two jobs to find men and women in various states of dress and undress, drug paraphernalia, and no food for her and her child were interesting.  I was also trying to rush to complete homework during daylight hours and trying to stay warm in a home without heat, lights or warm water because our bills had not been paid.  Too embarrassed to bring my school friends home, it was always ridiculous that my neighborhood friends thought my dad was a god. 

I was in a constant state of anxiousness that caused devastating insomnia, which contributed to my stress and it all seemed to come to a head by the time I was in seventh grade.   Trying to please Fr. Pizzarelli, and not make it to school late  for the 125th day in a row,  praying the boys would not notice how my ass was filling out my Catholic School uniform and hoping my boobs would never grow.  It was a struggle, and one I fully lost when I got back from Christmas break.  By then this mixed girl had a fully growed black girl butt, and EVERYONE could see it, even the boys I thought I had deep in check were acting crazy, trying to walk me home and carry my books, buy me pretzels at recess, ehhh yuch, it still makes me cringe.  To say, they were dealt with was an understatement. 

One weekend, my mom took me with her to the hair salon, and as I lamented my troubles over how stupid the boys were at my school and how I COULD NOT WAIT UNTIL I began attending the all girls high school the soon, a friend of my mother's agreed wholeheartedly with me.  She did so as she explained to me that she was a lesbian.  I was not familiar with the word or the concept, at the time, but as she gave me a high level explanation, I do recall, thinking she had a perfect solution to a problem that had been worrying me.  How am I going to live in the world, as an adult, if I have to kiss, marry, and heaven help me "do it" with a boy?  It was not that I thought they were gross, though many of the ones I knew were... rather they were just like me.  We spoke the same language, played the same games and had the same interests.  My girlfriends never would have walked 27 blocks to see a Bruce Lee movie.  I was there equal and no way did I want to give that up to be their girlfriend, it seemed like giving up my key to the executive bathroom to become a glorified secretary.   

Would anyone ever understand how vehemently my new philosophy was being codified into my little pre-teen spirit?  Would my parents indulge me or think I was being melodramatic, or simply immature.  Basically my new philosophy consisted of a couple key themes.  My girlfriends were conniving, retarded morons who were starting to loose their minds, chasing, fighting and crying over boys that were not worth their spit, Calvin Klein jeans are not made for a black womans' body, Oreo cookies and Utz potato chips are a perfect pre-menstrual meal, and BEING married looked a lot less fun than GETTING married, so I was O_U_T.  That lasted until I was about 17 years old, when I decided to marry one of my little pals, Smeff  Jynne.  While we dated a bit, he went on to matrimonial bliss with another lucky little lady - and let's just say I dodged the proverbial bullet on that one...

As a teenager, it had not been difficult getting dates, boyfriends, then as an adult, lovers, fiances' and a husband.  As a result, my appreciation for those men, could have been more "appreciative".  But on some level, it has always seemed to me that one of the qualities most men have truly valued in me, besides my figure was how unlike a typical female I truly was and still am.  Mom, if you are reading this, no I am not going to announce at any point in this blog that I am a lesbian, or the name of your friend.  You can stop trying to call/text/email me, calm down and read in peace....

As I was saying, I have never been one of those "what are you thinking?" chicks, or let's talk alllll night long, women, or worse still "you like her better than me" girl.  My telephone conversations had been abrupt and efficient, my lovemaking skillful, but not exactly a cuddler, never liked roses, or candy, so valentine's day was more of Shasta Daisy, Oreo Cookie event for me.  The guys in my life seemed to make a much bigger deal than I ever want to out of it.  Once we were married, Smatt and I had very lovely gift exchanges, but all in all it was still just a bunch of blather about nothing if I'm being totally honest.  Enter DD - Divorce Day. 

This is the day, I officially (in my heart) became divorced from my ex.  It was Valentine's Day, 2008, we were in the kitchen cooking together, listening to R&B, having fun, when the phone rang.  His "girlfriend" calls, drunk, wanting to speak to "her" man on Valentine's Day.  As I handed him the telephone and walked out of the kitchen shaking my head, I was just done.  This was not the first indiscretion, and if you cannot keep your lying and cheating from a wife who NEVER looks through your crap and asks you questions, perhaps that was a bit of natural selection come to call on my marriage.  Either way, that phone call and the image of his little legs swinging from our California King bed, pretty much put the kibosh on any romantic/sexual feelings I would ever have for him.

Now after that happened, he still believed he could and would win me back.  And in all fairness, why not, I had gone back before.  What was different?  Well ask any woman what is different the LAST time she decides to forgive her man.  Who knows?  It just is very, very different.  What I cannot understand, is why after all of this time, he continues to want to make a HUGE deal out of Valentine's Day.  Some years he is sneaking back into our marital home to drop hundreds of rose petals all over the floor, up the stairs, through the hall, into my room, into the master bath, where the tub is run, and cheese, fruit and wine sit under candle light.  That elicited absolutely no romantic feelings whatsoever, all I could think of was who is cleaning up all this crap?  Did you guess?  Yep me.  remember the part about not liking roses, well after trying to sweep up hundreds of damp rose petals off hardwood, carpeted, and marble floors, I like them even less now.

Recently, he arrived with a huge printer, scanner, fax for Valentine's Day, and again, shaking my head, I did not even bother to fake it.  WTF is that? And why are you giving it to me on Valentine's day?  Did I mention I have a printer/scanner/fax?  Aside from the fact that it does not appear he knows me AT ALL, and my response to him and his attempts to celebrate this holiday make me feel like a royal bitch, which I hate,

WHY WHY WHY

Does he not get I NOW HATE VALENTINES DAY BECAUSE OF WHAT HE AND HIS GIRLFRIEND DID? OMG IS THAT SOMEHOW AN OBSCURE CONCEPT? 

So, SMATT, if you are out there, reading my stuff, trying to see what I do on the computer sooo much, please read this.  NO I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR EFFING VALENTINE!

Bend With The Wind

One of the most significant gifts from the universe in 2009 and 2010 was the general awareness, appreciation for and adoption of a new philosophy.  People often talk about their loss of faith, or inability to follow a specific religion or faith.  I myself struggle with organized religion.  But that is only because it is easy to focus too heavily on a religions' inception, rather than it's role in today's world.  We all can benefit from a code of ethics or beliefs, a systematic framework that helps guide our moral compass. 

This is merely our spiritual culture, what we do when we don't know exactly what to do, what we teach our kids, and the basis upon which we judge our peers, friends and family members.  The belief that through discipline, awareness, focus and attentiveness, I have the power to change the role I play in this life.  It seems vain and delusional to believe I can or will change the world.  First, the world is already changing, with or without my participation.

My obligation is to be the change I want to see in the world, by living according to specific principles.  The past couple of years as life and "others" kicked my ass, to survive, I learned not only to understand, but embrace the desire to "bend with the wind".  This approach is  basically, a hybrid of Christianity, Taoism and tai-chi philosophies, which simply means don't fight against life, trust in the universe's purpose for each of us and go with the momentum of your life. That does not mean, abdicate your responsibility and account abilities - it means, stop being petty and focusing on the things that you cannot change, or you did not receive, or have not yet accomplished.  Enjoy something important about each day, remember the many blessings we each have been given, and when you have done everything within your power to help yourself, pray for guidance and strength to endure what is ahead.

I was constantly reminding myself of a quote I had heard, "If you're going to pray don't worry, if you're going to worry, don't bother praying" Thank you mama-Liz.  It helps me remember that I see the frame of my life and believe it is about choices, focus, resolve and resilience.  But inside that frame, it was important for me to have a position not so much about what I need to do, but the way I wanted to get those things done.  In the words of Barbara Walters, "What type of tree will I be?".

Enter Taoism - the Three Jewels of the Tao: compassion, moderation, and humility,  For those of you interested in a more detailed understanding, start here, then progress onto The Tao of Poo, a very readable book that will guarantee you do not take yourself too seriously.  If you are interested in developing an "intelligent" spirituality, pick up "The seven steps to think like Da Vinci every day" http://www.amazon.com/How-Think-Like-Leonardo-Vinci/dp/0440508274.

Tai-Chi Philosophy, or Taoism (also spelled Daoism; see below) refers to a variety of related philosophical and religious traditions that have influenced Eastern Asia for more than two millennia. They also notably influenced the Western world, particularly since the 19th century. The word 道, Tao (or Dao, depending on the romanization scheme), roughly translates as "path" or "way". It carries more abstract, spiritual meanings in folk religion and Chinese philosophy.

Taoist propriety and ethics emphasize the Three Jewels of the Tao: compassion, moderation, and humility, while Taoist thought generally focuses on nature, the relationship between humanity and the cosmos (天人相应); health and longevity; and Wu Wei (action through inaction). Harmony with the Universe, or the source thereof (Tao), is the intended result of many Taoist rules and practices.

The roots for my christian influences are basically, the seven deadly sins and corresponding heavenly virtues.

The Seven Deadly Sins, also known as the Capital Vices or Cardinal Sins, is a classification of objectionable vices that has been used since early Christian times to educate and instruct followers concerning fallen humanity's tendency to sin. The currently recognized version of the list is usually given as anger, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony.


In Catholic catechism, the seven virtues refer to one of two lists of virtues, most commonly referring to the 4 cardinal virtues of prudence, justice, restraint or temperance, and courage or fortitude, and the 3 theological virtues of faith, hope, and love or charity; these were adopted by the Church Fathers.

An alternative list, the seven heavenly virtues, is opposed to the seven deadly sins, and consists of chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility.

APPRECIATION AND SHOUT-OUTS

So I receive quite a few emails from women who want to know how I keep my humor, what helps me stay so upbeat.  First, I believe while you cannot always control WHAT happens to you, you can always control HOW you react, your attitude.  I get sad and depressed like anyone, but I try not to let it consume me.  First, I am too busy to be depressed for long, but I did suffer some very scary symptoms last year.  And when it seemed like the anxiety was simply too great, and I actually had a couple of panic attacks, I figured out a couple tricks to help me get by. The biggest secret to being able to stop worrying about your own situation, is to go out and help others. Volunteering at domestic violence shelters, watching my friends kids, so they could get a couple of hours of peace and quiet during the weeks I did not have my children, and donating boxes and boxes of clothes, dishes, furniture to charity as I prepared to downsize for whatever future living arrangement was coming my way. These were all beautiful distractions that never failed to humble me and remind me that there but for the grace of God... Oh yeah, and don't mistake God's grace, a lot of us want to believe "the answer" is more than it really is, make things more complicated, or more mysterious.  Sometimes the grace in our lives, the thing that enables us to survive when others falter, is our humor, our ability not to tolerate bullsh@#, or just maybe, it's that kick-ass support system we take for granted.  And just in case some of you are still being obtuse, that support system, could be your sister(s) who get on your nerves but never let you kid yourself into believing bs, or your mother who wants you to live up to your potential, or that annoying lady at work who wants you to fill out your college applications and get your life moving FORWARD. you know who you are...

So let me give props to my mom, the most important woman in the universe to me, she is my sun, my sky and my moon. My daughters who remain the beautiful stars that light up my world. My friends, who indulge me and my drive-by cell phone conversations (since the only quality quiet time I have is in my car) Claudette - my touchstone, CK, Kristen, Tahir, Curtis, Stacey, JW, Uncle Dwight, Joe - you all know who you are - thank you for helping me talk through the craziness that almost swallowed me whole this year, and keep me laughing through the tears. My friends at work, "old school crew" Misha, Gerald, Brandie, Linda, Beth,George, Stephen, Mr. P, Karen, "the newbies" LL, Shannon, Mike, Joann Taty, Ronnie aka chocolate thunder and now, thanks to Shannon, Wanda, lol. Most especially to Loren, who always knows how to read me no matter how bright of a smile I paste on my face, whose gentle heart is battered and bruised, yet always big enough to help and love her friends.  To those of you at the house of Ruth, who kept me smiling and sometimes laughing, who help me stand strong, when I did not think I could fight for myself. People who have shared so much when we had so little and teach that generosity of spirit is the key to a long, interesting, life.

Can A Girl Get By With a Mustard Seed in 2011?

Last year was an interesting mixture of the hilarious, terrifying and the sublime. Everytime it seemed as though the gas was out of "The Little Engine" that is my life, just like Tillie, the little engine that could, some how, some way things would work out. At the end of of 2009, I had lost one of my closest friends, I was legally separated and my divorce was kicking into high-gear, my kids were being pulled between two households, one of my dogs had to be put to sleep, my mom was recovering from breast cancer and I was diagnosed a stress related medical conditions.  I was living a bad country-western song.  I was looking for relief at the beginning of last year, hopeful, my "luck" would turn.


During 2010, in between everything else that was going on, I was always working at least two jobs, sometimes three and trying to be a pretty decent, new, single mom.  As this was going on, for some reason it seemed very important not to let my mom know how horribly bad things were, after all she was just getting her health back.  I felt terrible talking about this to my friends because it seemed like there was always some damn crisis in my life, so i just joked about stuff, and tried to evade them whenever possible for fear they would invite me somewhere that I could not even afford to buy gas to drive to let alone pay for when we arrived.


All the while the secrecy was such a burden, especially for a motor-mouth like me.  Trying not to let my family and close friends know how bad things were really getting was creating a chasm between me and my loved ones.  And without an outlet to relieve my pressure, my emotions were running high.  It seemed like the morning was my most vulnerable time, I was wide awake, my brain was skimming ideas, problems, solutions, contengencies and choreagraphing each play like Terry Bradshaw.  To say, I cried on Mr. Pierre's broad shoulders a couple times, would not be an understatement.  But ever stoic, he withstood the tide of my early morning tears, and pushed me back into "the game" with words of wisdom.

During the first 8 months of the year, in my spare time I was looking for a new place to live because my house was probably going into foreclosure, my twins had to leave the school they only school they had known since they were one year old, my oldest was away in college struggling and I was still trying to have some sort of tiny social life to keep from sucking on my car exhaust.  I can laugh about it now, but trust me, there were many nights when I would be thinking about my little Corgi, Maggie-Mae, or my little beta fish Sampson who bit it and think that lucky bastard... he got out.


I can tell you the situation looked pretty bleak.  There are no words to describe the terror you have when you can actually see the walls of your life start closing in on you, especially when you "feel" alone yet are in fact, accountable for the lives of three other human beings and a dog.  But there were a couple of things that stood between me and disaster.  First there was my mom then my uncle Dwight. 

People assume they are push-overs because they are the kindest most tender-hearted people you will ever meet.  What I have learned about them is they truly are an example of a titanium fist in a velvet glove.  No one has taught me more about tenacity, loyalty, love and supporting the people you love more than those two people- and it has all be by example.  My girlfriends were also always there holding me up too, even when they did not always know why or what was going on.  Each day a phone call or a card in the mail, a lunch, a glass of wine, just a sister-to-sister moment, to make me smile and keep me strong.


I wondered so much about what was going to happen.  Something as insignificant as printing the date on a check, or writing a report, or helping the girls with a homework assignment, would send my mind running in a hundred different directions.  What would happen to the girls if we lost our home, what about my mom, what about my other dog, Milo?  He was on the maximum dosage of Doggie Prozac and still had already licked himself bald-bodied, over the passing of Maggie-Mae.  God knows he could not take one more problem without stamping his paw on a newspaper and throwing his body over the deck with a carefully worded - "screw you all".


Do you want to know what happens when your mind gets so filled with fear and anxiety you cannot think straight, literally?  Well I don't know.  But I do know what happened to me.  I developed a new philosophy, well new to me.  I call it the Tao of life - "Bend with the wind".  This approach, actually a hybrid, of tai-chi, christianity, taoism which mostly is to focus on the problems of others, deal with what you can control, and stop fighting against and running away from life's lessons. 


When I began to understand that in every terror-filled moment, there was an opportunity to improve myself or help someone else, each breath became easier to take, each step forward felt a little lighter.  The road I was travelling was not as dark or as cold, because when you focus your efforts outward the universe sends in reinforcements...  Those people I had helped, started helping me.  Some do not even know they did help me or how much their efforts comforted me, or re-fueled me so I could keep going. 

Though it is already March, this is my first real blog-post, "why men lie" was written for Litchell, as an h'omage to the lessons he taught me and re-taught me then taught me one more time in 2010 (I can be hard-headed when the sex is good).  Hopefully, he is a part of my romantic past, because there are a host of new characters already assembling for 2011.  In the spirit of excercising the lessons of the Tao, I am trying to remain focused on the  Three Jewels of the Tao: compassion, moderation, and humility. 

With that in mind, my ex is making a special appearance, and hopefully, we have and can continue to live in some form of harmony.  We were able to keep our home, Milo's hair has started to grow back.  Now with Matt living here it seems like the good, the bad, and the ugly have re-assembled as well.  My biggest epiphany for 2010 was that the struggle is not separate from life, but it is life itself.  That push and pull (yin and yang) makes it interesting, fun, exciting, terrifying and intoxicating.  I don't regret one moment of 2010, but if anyone is listening and there is an opportunity to offer a moment of silence in gratitude, allow me to ever so humbly say thank you.  Thank you for my loving friends (Ms. Needles - special shout-out to you) my family, my exes... my daughters, (the hoochies and cori, my angel and the gentle sweet soul that is always in my heart, even when she is so far away), and my faith, which is as strong today as it has ever been.  That faith in myself, given to me by strong, beautiful, intelligent people who raised me, allows me to always appreciate my blessings in this life to retain my integrity, maintain my sense of humor, and remember everyone deserves the opportunity to be redeemed.  Bless you all. 

Why men lie.

Lies are not born of a particular situation. Lies are conceived internally, inside the man usually as a result of deep seated fears and compulsions he may not understand or want to analyze. It was my inability to truly look inside myself and attempt to understand what motivated my behaviors and actions that allowed me to lie so flawlessly for so long to so many women.

The lie itself may have been about where I was, what I was doing or why I did not fulfill a promise that I had made. But the reason for the lie grew within me before that situation ever occurred. For example: when my ex and I first met, we were at a social function and she approached me and we started talking. She was very appealing to me, immediately there was an attraction and we sat down and talked the evening away she shared her feelings about past relationships and spoke earnestly about what she wanted for her future.

A man that was honest, available, faithful. Everything I was not. I distinctly remember her asking me if I was the kind of man she was describing. I sat there facing her still as a statue terrified she would see beneath my carefully crafted veneer and see me for the lying master manipulator I had become. I had no idea how to respond, but instinctively knew the truth was out of the question. She excused herself to go to the bathroom and when she returned I had transformed myself and my life into the man that she told me she was looking for. From that day forward I hid my true nature from her and every interaction was tainted with my fears she would uncover who I really was and my efforts to hide myself from her at all costs.

By the second year we were together I had developed such resentment for her and all the hopes and dreams she had because it was easier to blame her for who I had become than myself. We grew apart; her anxiously looking for the man she hoped I was and me running scared and angry that she was never satisfied with who I truly was, even though she never met that person.

It was at that time I began confiding in a woman that I met. She had such an unnatural attraction for policeman that it was almost a fetish. It did not take me long to realize she was a liability and in my efforts to extricate myself from that relationship I handled it so clumsily, she became angry and vindictive. I knew she was not a woman that I wanted sexually yet I participated in the deception because I was lonely within my existing relationship and needed someone to tell my sad little stories to.

Her efforts to get back at me for not having sex with her and ending the affiliation caused all kinds of mayhem. My sloppy interaction with her created a trail that led my ex directly to her and when they spoke she lied and told my girlfriend we had had sex together in our home and in the bed we shared. Finally, after all the lies and cheating I had done my entire life in every other relationship I was caught in a lie that I did not tell. My ex never believed that I was not unfaithful to her, and it was her belief in the fact that I had brought another woman into our home and our bed that was the death of our relationship, we never recovered from it.

My downward spiral caused by her leaving me was the catalyst that helped me get into counseling and to begin for the first time in my life to understand how my childhood experiences had influenced my ability and my inability to develop healthy relationships with other people, especially women.

Men lie for all different types of reasons, but they are rarely simple and usually the result of influences the women in their lives cannot begin to fathom. The origin is based on fears, fears that they will loose the woman in their lives.

What I have learned is that no one is more important than the truth of who I am. Like an alcoholic vigilantly protecting his sobriety, I safeguard my truth. Now the women I meet cannot shut me up when talking about who I truly am, it is with pride and complete candor that I reveal myself with them. The utter transparency that I bring to my new relationships is liberating, even when it scares some away. But I persist believing that there is a woman with enough love, compassion and understanding to appreciate who I am and what has led me to this place. And when she embraces me with love, acceptance and the patience she will surely need as I learn how to love a woman, she will receive my whole heart and all of my devotion.

“I would rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not”

Are you the pig or the chicken?

Commitment is a pledge, a promise, an obligation.  It is the thing we do when we feel compelled to do the "right" thing.  For most of us, commitment is not sexy, or exciting; in fact, it can be scary or suffocating.  But if you are in a relationship, at some point there is always a choice to be made.  Do you seek commitment or do you merely want to continue with the status quo?

Commitment is not for everyone, and every relationship should not graduate to that level.  It depends on so many things.  Yet many people assume that all relationships between men and women must evolve into a committed relationship and when they do not, the feelings of frustration, anger, fear, and hurt can cause people to push too hard.  We have all been there, mainly because it is rare that two people arrive at the exact same point within the relationship at the same time.  If you get there first, and feel that longing for your mate to acknowledge and commit to you it can be terrifying.  The reason is because if you want a commitment it is usually the first indication that you are truly in love. 

My experience has taught me that love is a hodgepodge of emotions, feelings, actions, and thoughts that result in behaviors between people who want to be together.  Ideally, you care enough about the person to learn how to love them in the healthiest way possible for the two of you.  The goal is a happy, fulfilling life that is interesting, funny, and peaceful, with pockets of excitement along the way.  Realistically, most of us just wander through life hoping that love will find us and fantasizing about how wonderful it will be once we find the person of our dreams.  The idea that love is hard work makes it feel less romantic to me.  I don't want to believe that it takes so much effort to be with a person who says they love me.  Yet, painful experience has taught me that love is not easy.  Passion is easy.  Love takes time and comes with a price.

Once you find a person whose company you enjoy, who turns you on, and feels the same, the hard work begins.  That hard work is pushing past the sexual excitement and interesting activities to true intimacy.  Figuring out if you have common goals, spiritual beliefs and determining if your locus of reasoning (your personal culture) is a help or a hindrance.  If you believe women and men are equal and your partner believes the man should always make the decisions and have the final say, your interactions on important topics will be fractured and complicated because you don't value the same process for solving problems and making decisions.  If you believe in open relationships and she believes in monogamy the relationship will likely be burdened with trust issues.  Love is not about being exactly the same, but it is about compatibility.

I have a friend, let's call him Litchell.  He is a funny guy.  He can be gentle, thoughtful, amusing, charming or the biggest pain in the ass on the planet.  He is constantly on the look-out for a female that is "committed" to him.  But trust me his definition of commitment is not found on dictionary.com.  He wants her to abdicate her common sense, her logic and skepticism and commit to him and his offerings.  His true challenge is that he seeks intelligent, enlightened women of depth and quality.  Those women generally do not walk blindly into relationships and bind themselves to men of questionable circumstances.  For Litchell, his goal is to secure the relationship, not the person.  The challenge is that he is not looking for commitment because he is in love, or in a position to offer love.  He seeks commitment because it is the price of admission into his dating lifestyle.  The need for this level of obligation is an indication of the pain he has suffered in past relationships, romantic and familial. 

Another friend, let's call her Samantha, wants the passion and the companionship but not the commitment.  The commitment scares her and makes her feel smothered so she flits from relationship to relationship like a pretty butterfly looking for nectar.  What she is missing is the depth of relationship and interactions that differentiate relationships from hook-ups.  Her fear of being hurt and hurting others stiffles her ability to open herself up to the real possibility of true love.  

Nothing screws you up more in a relationship than other relationships. Past, present and future, the relationships you have had, are in and aspire to have clutter your mind and create confusion that can prevent you from getting the love most of us want in our lives. Old, failed, love affairs can impact our confidence, causing us to alienate people who want a future with us. Existing friendships and familial obligations can compete with the quality time necessary to create new, strong, healthy relationships. Our desire for perfection in our future love lives can prevent us from appreciating a person of quality today. 

Our ability to move from dating to committed relationship hinges on many things, including our own personal readiness for such a serious transition.  It is love not passion that paves the way for commitment and inspires people to embrace commitment as a privilege rather than a burden or solely an obligation.  When you acknowledge the genuine feelings of respect, desire, interest and compatibility you have for another person and seek intimacy rather than sex, you are truly falling in love and ready to move beyond mere involvement to commitment.  Your ability to give your partner the time they need to feel the same is an indication of the quality of the feelings you share and your maturity because real love does not have an expiration date, you should take your time.

 

That Sweet Feeling

I don't want to jinx myself or anything but guys and girls I met a man.  Not a boy, or a clown, but a fully grown, intelligent, sexy, funny as hell man.  They say it always happens when you least expect it, and it is so true.  While wandering around a book store in Washington DC, he just walked right up and started talking to me.

Like the Terminator, I was mentally, checking off all the qualities he seemed to possess, as he calmly made conversation.  Tall... check, sexy eyes, double check, husky voice, check, cocky smartass ding, ding, ding.  By the time I got to his Italian leather loafers and tan pleated linen slacks I was damn near convinced I was being "punked".  Things really started to take off when it became clear he had an Italian accent though by this time I did start scanning the bookshelves for a hidden camera. 

He asked me to go out for a coffee and even though it was a little scary, I thought about you guys and all the support you have given me, over the past few months, and decided to just go for it.  Conversation over coffee lasted 3 hours and it was a GREAT conversation, full of laughter and teasing.  Talking turned into a walk to the zoo and a dinner invitation.  I cannot believe how effortless it all was.  No electronic winks, or smiles, I did not need my girls to run reconnaissance for a speed-date exits, and no chatting or texting was involved.  Just two people who could not stop smiling, could not take their eyes off each other, and a conversation that spanned politics, religion and children.  All the taboo topics you are not supposed to bring up on a first date.

As I got ready for bed the evening we met, I coached myself not to worry if he never called, but to just be glad that we had met and experienced each other.  Even if we never saw each other again, at least I knew he was out there - a strong, funny, kind man who thought I was sweet an funny too.  I warned myself not to get my hopes up just in case, in reality, he had just been bored and had a couple hours to kill before picked up his wife... or maybe he was getting into character for a play and decided to pick up random women.  But when my computer chimed and I saw his IM, my heart beat faster... i felt the smile on my face, and nothing could dampen the delight that I felt when I read his words.  "Sweet dreams, until tomorrow."

Who knows where this will go, if anywhere, but for the moment I am going to luxuriate in the feeling... that intoxicating, rare feeling you get when you meet someone new and you click.  It's been a while, and it's been a tough summer so don't mind me if for a little while I smile for no reason, giggle on the phone and catch my breath when the phone rings.  I am wise enough to know this feeling is special and enjoy it just because I can. 

You're BALD!!

It's been a while, I know.  There has been some drama, relationships that failed, hopes crumbled, dreams dashed.  I have contemplated writing a book to teach men to lie better, cheat more effectively.  Not because I believe it is good to lie and cheat, but because I am disgusted with their limited capabilities in these areas.  The teacher in me wants to help them be better at it, especially when there is so much room for improvement.


Enter Litchell .  A man you have read about before, with a certain charm but not exactly Abraham Lincoln if you know what I mean.  In his mind, it seems that he finds his indiscretions and falsehoods to be quaint, cute little anomalies that women should overlook for the chance to get closer to him and his magic wand.  That he can look you in the eyes with straight and serious face, while demanding fidelity while rolling fresh from the scented sheet of some hoochie is hilarious and a bit sad.


Fortunately, I demand no such thing from the men I contemplate dating.  Observing the way they hide, deflect and excuse their poor behaviors is great insight into their character and lack thereof.  While dating Litchell it was always fun to watch him espouse the importance of commitment and its value in a "real" relationship, while getting caught in one lie after another.


So many times i dreamed about turning on him as he railed about the unfairness of how poorly he had been treated by a previous paramour and what a great catch he was by screaming, "Negro paaaleaze! I KNOW you are seeing other women.  Stop bullshitting me.  Do you know how I know?  Because your shampoo and conditioner is being used and YOU'RE BALD!"


What had become my own sad little inside joke was listening to him blather on about what an honest, true and good man he was and how he had suffered and learned so much from his previous relationships and would NEVER lie to another woman, all the while the shampoo and conditioner he kept in his shower evaporated like fuel in a Hummer driving at rush-hour in downtown D.C.


The only thing keeping me silent was the fact that other women might stand a chance of seeing him for what he is too as long as the shampoo kept going and going.  It was okay for me to take one for the team, so others might be saved.  If it was good enough for Jesus....