Valentine’s for One

 

Valentine’s is traditionally the day that sweethearts exchange tokens of affection. For single people this can be a reminder of the state of “singleness” resulting in discomfort or sadness. I have experienced this myself and dreaded February 14 as a day of isolation and loneliness.

Happily, with some effort on my part, that has changed.

Over the many years I have spent single, I have learned a very important lesson:

I need to be the most important person in my life – Period.

So I have decided to make Valentine’s the day I celebrate love for myself  just as a lover or partner might. I buy myself a card and/or flowers, indulge in a chocolate or three and take myself out to a movie or other treat like a pedicure. I avoid  places where there will be loads of couples, like restaurants. I tell myself, “I love you”, throughout the day too – which may seem silly but it is fun.

The result: February 14th is now a day I look forward to with the enthusiastic anticipation of a second grader who will receive a shoebox full of cards and treats.

Whether you are single or partnered, you are the one person you will be with and care for for your entire life – so, like the song says: love the one you’re with!

What are ways you can celebrate self love today?

Note: For a great meditation for self love look up Sarah Blondin’s “Loving and Listening to Yourself” from her Coming Home to Yourself series.

Something New

 

Someone was asking me recently about all of the ways I weed out the men that are unsuitable for me.  I mentioned a few key things like how he talks about his ex, how many alcoholic drinks he consumes on our first outing (if applicable according to venue) and whether he speaks in a positive or negative way about things in general. But one thing I hadn’t really thought about before is how far a man goes out of his way to impress me.

If you are a regular reader or you have known me for any significant period of time you know the lengths that some men have gone to get my attention. There was the guy who I barely knew who presented me with a pair of half carat diamond studs on our third date, the man I met on vacation in Barbados who paid for my upgrade to first class just to have my company on the return flight to the States and innumerable dinners in expensive restaurants, bouquets of flowers and boxes of high-end chocolates. But all of that happened prior to my dating enlightenment- that time in my life when I stopped looking at the external gestures (many of them cliche anyway and not really having anything to do with me personally) and started looking for a particular set of characteristics in a potential partner.

I blame my former shallow outlook on the materialistic society in which I was raised in which I was crammed with fairy tales of imperiled princesses or chamber maids saved by  what was prescribed as the most desirable man possible, someone wealthy and good-looking. This concept of seeing a man for what he could provide in a material sense rather than examining his character was further entrenched by 13 years spent in a isolationist prep school where almost everyone’s value was equated by their familial wealth. I refused to play this game – or so I thought. I decided I would not choose a man for his money and in rebellion turned down several rich suitors. I chose instead to marry someone who lacked two dimes to rub together but with whom I shared a certain taste for the finer things and was delighted to shower me with the material trimmings of love (jewelry, nice clothes, expensive wine, art, etc). This was great for a while but slowly I came to realize that there are qualities a good partner should have that don’t come wrapped with a bow.

I am reminded of Madonna’s 1980’s pop hit, Material Girl. The basic premise is while “on” Madonna is all about the material stuff ala Marilyn Monroe performing Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend,but in the end she goes home with the guy who distinguishes himself by offering her simple pleasures (and I like to imagine has a good character).  The message: stuff is nice but it is the simple things that are more important when it comes to love.

What I am saying here is this: Find someone who impresses you without all the trimmings. Someone who gets your attention because they are smart, funny, interesting, honest, forthright and intellectually stimulating to you. A person who gets your attention because they are a good person with morals and values and some interests that align with yours.

Remember y’all, anyone can buy you things but its the person who is offering the things you can’t buy that matters most.

 

 

More, More, More! the story of a dynamic man

Back by popular demand- Dating Stories.  This is actually more of an homage to one man I dated who became a really great friend. I will call him “M”.

In this post I am going way back to my college years as a dangerously energetic and naive Art Major at VCU.  It is 1984(?). The obsession of my young adult life, a man I will refer to as Lord Byron- LB for short, had unceremoniously dumped me the day after he has told me he wants our relationship to be exclusive. This was a fairly major event because we shared an almost psychic connection. The sexual and intellectual attraction between me & LB was so palpable that when we walked into a public space together, people would stop talking and turn to stare. We were young, good-looking people with magnetic energy that when combined, was simply arresting.

During the 24 hours in between the incongruent events of my heart leaping to new heights as I blissfully dreamt of eternal happiness with the most gorgeous, sensual, exotic and darkly interesting man I had yet met and the emotional equivalent of having my heart and dreams smashed to a bloody pulp like what remains after an arctic hunter bludgeons a big eyed baby seal, I had given my other boyfriend, Snarky Ass Artist (SAA), his walking papers.

It was all quite inconvenient because LB and I worked at the same place so despite the break-up we saw each other almost everyday.

After a month or so post devastation, I got back with SAA and moved in with him.  We spent a broiling RVA summer in his cockroach infested, un-airconditioned, railroad apartment. As the summer sweltered on,SAA formulated a plan  to move to California rather than return to school.

So at the end of August a bunch of friends and I throw a farewell party for SAA.  At some point during the revelry I decide to walk to a bodega a half block down the street to pick up a few bottles of champagne. As I zwoosh past the cash register to the refrigerated section as if on a mission from god, I call back to the spritely guy behind the counter, “I want six bottles of the best champagne you have. Do you have any cold?” His response, “I don’t know where you are going but wherever it is, I want to come along.” That was how I met “M”.

I went back to that store three or four more times that night and by the end of his shift, I had invited M to join the party. The next day I took SAA to DC to catch his flight to San Fran and cried all night feeling abandoned and untethered. In the morning M rang and invited me over to soak in the baby pool in his back yard (a popular thing for college students in Richmond in August at the time – the river was too warm to be refreshing but a baby pool filled with cold hose water was rejuvenating) where he offered me cocktails to remove the sting from my aching heart/ego and cucumber slices for my swollen red eyes. He listened patiently to my story of the previous months, about my soul crushing love for LB and my sadness of SAA leaving while periodically donning my eyelids with fresh cucumber slices and filling my glass with more frozen margarita.

The next day when I arrived at work, one of my sister co-workers discovered a long rectangular box tied with a fat yellow silk bow in the cold storage where we kept french pastries. “The card says they are for you,”she squealed looking directly at me. M, knowing that LB worked with me, had sent two dozen long-stem yellow roses to the workplace and had delivered them when LB would have been the only person to receive them. It was a wonderful moment as there was quite a bit of excitement generated by a bouquet of expensive flowers amongst a gaggle of young women and LB looked a bit chagrinned.

This is just one of a dozen stories of M’s generosity. Always a nurturer and ready to shed some sunshine on anyone’s rainy day, M is an extraordinary person (we are still friends). He is constantly doing nice things for people.  And to the soundtrack of Dire Straights, Brian Ferry, Prince and Big Audio Dynamite we have had many adventures -like a hilarious road trip to his family home, nights on the town in Manhattan, days lounging on the rocks in the James River, and just generally being there for each other through the tough times. He helped me find a place to stay when I first moved to New York, introduced me to his cool artist friends, helped me to get my first real job out of college, threw me a birthday bash for my 50th, and lent me money and an understanding ear at a low point in my life.

Through all the years I have known him he has always been: in love with his high-school sweetheart even though there have been other women in his life; plagued by addiction to drama and a variety of substances; possessed a penchant for obsession from orchids to jewelry making; loved everyone with his whole heart yet peppered himself with potshots of self-depreciating humor; been dangerously charming, clever and glib; had amazing good taste in all things; and generally been one of the luckiest blokes you might ever meet.

But probably the most impressive thing about M is that he is a survivor.  His childhood and young adulthood, though privileged, contained the kind of tragedy that would turn anyone into a bitter, hater type yet somehow, M survived and is able to love people powerfully.

Thank you, M, for being complicated, adorable,extreme, funny, supportive and an absolute love. It is an honor to call you my friend. Holding you and your family in the light.

work on yourself

Over the years I have heard many people complain about past or current relationships often blaming the actions or characteristics of another person for their unhappiness.  So many people have complained to me about their partners  or ex partners it sometimes seems like an epidemic.  What I have learned from all this whining is this:  I cannot help these people to feel better.  Indeed there is no one who can help them outside of themselves so now when someone complains to be about their partner or previous partner(s) I know that the only way they will ever get over the blaming disease to work on themselves.

How does one do that?

Get into therapy or a twelve step program, begin a real yoga practice including meditation, get regular massages, pursue some creative activity just for the pleasure of it, try something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t allowed yourself to do, travel to a foreign country, start exercising if you don’t already (that could mean walking down stairs rather than taking the elevator – just get moving), clean out that junk room, overstuffed closet and/or junk drawer,  get some energy work done, shed guilt, start paying attention to who you are, what you like and how you like it, learn your communication style and change it if it fails to serve you, start telling the truth if you are a lier, assess your own actions, learn to forgive others and yourself, start adding healthier foods to your diet, assess your relationships and drop any dead weight, give up the idea that material things or money will bring you happiness, spend more time doing things that bring you joy and  with people who energize you, and most importantly learn to breathe.

If you must spend time with people who bring you down make an escape plan in advance, set boundaries and stick to them and remember that all people are our teachers.

It is only by improving you that you will improve you relationships because YOU are the ONLY person who can make you happy or unhappy as the case might be.  Other people are just other people who only possess power over your emotions if you allow it.  I promise you that once you love yourself and learn to make your own happiness, other people’s issues, habits, problems and actions will fail to trigger you.

Connecting with the Divine

  *

In the latest post I mentioned that I would explain how yoga and art make a powerful combination for manifesting something you would like to bring into your life so here it is:

The word “yoga”, literally translated from Sanskrit means to “yoke”- as in yoking the individual with the universal divine energy which is sometimes referred to as enlightenment. The Yoga Sutras, a sort of yoga guide book recorded by an ancient yogi named Patanjali, describe 8 yogic paths to enlightenment:

Yama :  Universal morality

Niyama :  Personal observances

Asanas :  Body postures

Pranayama :  Breathing exercises, and control of prana (life-force)

Pratyahara :  Control of the senses

Dharana :  Concentration and cultivating inner perceptual awareness

Dhyana :  Devotion, Meditation on the Divine

Samadhi :  Union with the Divine

I would argue that the creative process or “art” is another pathway to enlightenment. Now there is probably something about that in the Yoga Sutra somewhere but I confess, I have not studied the Yoga Sutra very thoroughly. If you know of a segment that condones the creative process as part of one of the 8 limbs of yoga, please feel free to share that in a comment. But just in case Patanjali omitted that section, my argument rests in the stories of creation found in just about every spiritual practice on earth. The rationale goes like this: In each creation story there is some divine force (or divine forces) that creates everything. In the Judeo-Christian tradition there is one creator who, over the course of 7 days makes the world and everything in,on and above it and frankly, produces some really cool stuff – think blow fish,T-Rex, rainbow, elephant, lavender, mangos, pink sand, sunrise, caves, etc. Looking at the world around us and all of the wonderful things in it one can easily see that the divine creator is an amazing artist.

When we participate in the creative process we are imitating the divine creator(s), tapping into that connection between ourselves and “god”. Think about how many great artists of all types have said that when they are painting, writing, drawing, preparing food, making music, etc have said that they seem to be channeling something greater than themselves as if they are merely the medium between a higher power and this earthly place.

If it were a mathematical equation it would look like this:

Higher Power + Creativity = Artist

Human + Creativity = Artist

Artist = Artist

Creativity = Creativity

Therefore when humans create they are channelling Higher Power.

Thus when we make art we are connecting with the divine – just like yoga.

So it makes sense that combining these two powerful means for connecting with the divine will make an uber connection.

More on how Mindful Visioning (a workshop that combines yoga and art to make a powerful tool for change) works in an upcoming post.

Namaste,

Mary

*this is a potential logo for a new business I am  co-starting with Art Therapist, Sigrid Eilertson.

See the Journey

A cool desert breeze kissed my cheek as I tightened the cap on the silver glitter pen and gazed down at my handiwork. Laid out on the picnic table amongst paper scraps and art supplies was dense collage of yogic symbols, animals, ancient temples and enticing foods -my first visioning board. My guru, Valma Brenton, who was heading up the yoga teacher training in Baja, Mexico, explained that this collage would help me achieve my dreams by seeing them. Since then, I have used this visioning technique as a catalyst for a lifestyle of traveling, writing and practicing yoga.

This is a picture of the visioning board I created:

 

 

 

What made this visioning exercise so powerful was the combination of yoga and the creative process.

Neuroscience teaches that the more synapsis that connect in our brains the better we learn something. When we participate in an activity that uses all three ways in which we learn  (visual – seeing, auditory – hearing, and kinetic – doing) the concept is more entrenched in the brain. Add the remaining senses (smell and taste) and POW! even better learning occurs.

Using yoga and art together dramatically increases the number of synapsis that connect resulting in some powerful “magic”.

Visioning can be used for changing behaviors, reaching a goal or attracting something into your life.

I have personally used this tool to:

• land a gig as a ghost writer for a really interesting book
• nab a spot on a junket to Tibet
• manifest my yoga teacher training
• bring more joy into my life
• conquer fears
• be a better parent, friend, human being.

In an upcoming blog I will explain why the combination of yoga and art makes so much sense.

Until then…

Namaste,

Mary

 

 

 

Mindful Muses

So you know I am a student of Yoga, right?  Yeah, sure, you have probably noticed all of the mindful references throughout my posts if I haven’t come right out and stated, “I am a yogini.” But, yes, I have had a regular yoga practice for about 16 years, earned my 200 hour teaching certificate at Clarananda in Baja Mexico under the tutelage of Guru Valma Brenton, and have been teaching groups and private sessions since 2010.

And honestly, I am tired of about writing about dating.  You may have guessed that since there hasn’t been a fresh  blog post in quite a while. But I am a writer and I  plan to continue blogging- just with an emphasis on mindfulness and how that manifests itself throughout life.  Particularly my life since it is the only one with which I am intimately involved but I suspect the themes will be universal and relatable to a lot of people.

For now, Dating by Committee will serve as the platform and eventually these mindful musings will find a home of their own. There is just so much to share, I am eager to get started with this project as soon as possible.

I am also working on a couple of workshops to share with the world: 1) Mindful Visioning which is in partnership with Art Therapist and friend, Sigrid Eilertson and 2) A not yet titled Laugha Yoga workshop- which will guest start other Laugha Yoga professionals as time goes on.  More will be shared about these two workshops in another post.

Until then…

Namaste.

 

Mary

 

Sailing

ATLANTIC OCEAN (Nov. 19, 2007) The amphibious assault ship USS Nassau (LHA 4)

Yesterday I was driving across the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel on my way to a Bon Voyage Fete in Virginia Beach for a dear friend. (Cue: Bobby Daren’s version of “Sailing”.) I have traveled Eastbound across this particular connector countless times filled with thoughts of sun filled days stretched across bright colored beach towels on the sandy shores, building sand sculptures and body surfing the brownish green waves.  But yesterday as I headed towards the tunnel that allows ships docked in Norfolk to pass out to sea, my car window open to allow the salty fresh air kissing my face, I glanced to the left towards the Naval Base and a rush of phantom excitement came over me.  It was as though I passed through a time warp to a warm June day in between my Senior Year of High School and my Freshman year at Boston U when I was speeding in my 1974 Ford Mustang convertible towards a day or two of heaven spent with a dashing young sailor whom I will refer to as Trent for the sake of decorum.

My entire being recalled the tingling of every cell in my body that earmarked the thrill of anticipation. The Cheshire Cat smile that emerged across my face when I saw his ship from the bridge because it meant I was close and getting closer to someone who was waiting for me with equal enthusiasm. The freedom of youthful carelessness rushed through me-  certainly I had called in sick to my job in order to race down to the beach at the last minute to see Trent for a few days of irreverent bliss. It was all there for a moment.

I thought about Trent and how ridiculously handsome he was. A gorgeous specimen of a man with chiseled features, dark straight hair, flashing blue eyes and the muscular frame of a boxer. The broad smile on his face when I arrived at the ship. How he showed me around and showed me off to his shipmates. Two years older and a little dangerous  (he had dropped out of college to join the Navy- something that was unheard of at my prep school and he was a boxer of sorts) he was quite popular and being with him made me feel important and special. But other than growing up in the same town we had very little in common except  a frat-like penchant for drinking (Bourbon & Coke was his poison of choice), a love of dancing (and I mean ballroom – all the men in his family were fantastic dancers) and an animalistic appreciation of each other… so, sadly, relationship did not last long.

Though it was a pleasure to remember that moment and to reminisce about my old flame it made me sad that there is not someone in my life at present who gets tingly in anticipation of seeing me and I wondered if I will ever feel like that again?

Perhaps the fact that I can recall it so vividly is a good sign that it can and will.

A Deer Message

I have been stuck lately.  Stuck in a horrible rut of self-doubt, fear and worst of all boredom.  I have been bored with myself even – a rarity in my world.

This morning while setting up for a poolside yoga class I sometimes host at my apartment complex, I discovered a fawn stuck between the fence rails behind some lounge chairs.  The poor little thing had been struggling all night to squeeze its narrow body forward through the fence. It had rubbed the skin at its hip bones raw from the effort of trying to move forward and scrapped its forelegs to the point of bleeding trying to get momentum on the cemented pool patio with its hooves.

Fortunately, one of the fabulous maintenance guys who come to clean the pool in the morning had spent many years raising deer and when he arrives a few minutes later. He knew exactly how to handle the fawn and work with a couple of his co-workers to free it without harming it further.

The message:  Sometimes we get stuck and end up in a fruitless struggle to become unstuck by ourselves.  If we are patient, (and particularly if we ask our Higher Power), the right people will appear at the right time and help us in a way that sets us back on our path.

It is the same with the search for a life partner.  Ask. Be patient. and in the right time the right person will come into our lives.

With gratitude.

Mary

Oh Great! Another F-ing Valentine’s Day

I have said this before, I detest Valentine’s Day.  It is hardly the holiday itself, which is adorable by nature- the celebration of love and all.  I like the idea of Valentine’s, I just hate my experience of it.  So many awful ones… like the humiliation of observing throughout the day the growing bouquets of pink, red or white carnations carried by other girls in high school as I  navigated the halls empty handed EVERY YEAR weather I was dating someone or not. I remember one year when the boy I was “dating” sent a flower to a rather unpopular girl in our theatre class because he thought she wouldn’t get any and that I would get dozens. Ouch! Then there was the year that as a young college grad living in New York City, my boyfriend presented me with a Swiss Army Knife – because it was red. We had a huge fight because, though I was appreciative albeit  a tad confused by the Freudian interpretation one might derive from such a gift, he spent the better part of the evening apologizing and berating himself which after a few hours sent me into a rage. Or the several years I worked retail and sold thousands of dollars of nice jewelry and clothing to men who were eager to please their sweethearts whilst my guys failed to cough up the sentiment to even pick up a card. No wonder the day often fills me with snark.

H2, though, as I have said, did a good job of gift giving and being romantic on Valentine’s. He would shower me with gifts of jewelry, flowers and nice dinners. Actually, until recently and post divorce mind you, he would send me flowers. But now he is otherwise occupied and it is a day that just evokes painful memories. A day that provides an excuse for my critical self to hold a mental magnifying glass over my insecurity and nag at me,”Why don’t you have some special significant other in your life? Look at all these couples around you doing lovely things for each other today?  What is so terribly wrong with you that you lack a partner?”

To make matters worse, I recently had a conversation with a woman who is not even moved out of the home she shares with her soon- to -be- ex. She is already mooning over a new man she is “seeing” but not “dating” and boasts of plans for a future together.  And another friend who last year at this time was miserable in a marriage, is 365 days later divorced and starting a new fairly serious relationship. There are of course more examples- I could go on and on. And my male friends are even faster to get connected.  One married within a year of getting divorced without knowing the woman beforehand.  Another is simply “having trouble” in his marriage and is already looking for someone to date – just in case things don’t turn out with his wife. AGGGHHH!

The fact that these people can find a satisfying  relationship so quickly pisses me off.  It seems unfair.  I know I am whining here but it does feel like something is wrong with me when I would not have any of these guys (either the ones so eager to find mates or the ones my female friends have hooked up with) served on a silver platter.  Am I sabotaging any chances of having a relationship in the guise of being picky?  I don’t know but I seem to have a total aversion to being with someone for the sake of having someone to be with.  It seems to me that it is difficult enough to find someone who is actually single. After that it would be nice to find someone with whom I actually enjoyed spending time and for whom I felt a physical attraction.  Outside of those requirements, being gainfully employed, non-addicted and having a positive attitude would be great. So until I find a man who fits those requirements, I will revel in the fact that being alone is better than being with just anyone.

In terms of my Valentine’s angst- I gave myself permission to enjoy being pissy about Valtentine’s rather than trying to make myself feel better and somehow it feels empowering. I realized while leaning into my angst, that I can  stop fantasizing that all the couples I see around me are all happy or monogamous. (Statistics prove that many of them are miserable and putting on a show or at least one of them is having an affair.) I am resolved to  enjoy my independence and embrace all the great things I have because I am single like having a bed and a bathroom all to myself, setting the thermostat to the temperature of my liking and not having to work around the schedule of some sports team’s game time on the weekend.  Besides no one can spoil me as well as I spoil myself. I can celebrate Valentine’s as a day of love for me.

So I started writhing this post on February 12th and now it is the 14th.  Feeling empowered as a single person who on this day can express my love for myself, I decided to go to a long anticipated concert of classical music in my home town.  No date – just trusting the magic that the extra ticket would get used by someone who really wanted it and was willing to take a chance at the door.  I decided I would feel my best by looking my best and planned to wear a classic little black dress with some sexy tall boots and my unapologetic full length mink (originally belonging to my mother and a symbol of her independence – she bought it for herself from money she earned from her own business).  The idea- taking myself out on a date. A date which would be totally magical for ME.  Looking good and listening, unencumbered by concern for anyone else’s thoughts or opinions, to music that pleased me.

Then this afternoon a text came from one of the few single men my age in my town.  It was an invitation to a special wine dinner and he just happened to have an extra ticket.

Here is where I screwed this Valentine’s up.  I agreed to go for the early part of the dinner which would still get me to the concert on time. I Love good food and wine but really, I have so much to do tomorrow I shouldn’t be drinking at all and I should just stay true to myself and follow my original plan, right?  But no.  I was lured by the flattery of being invited by a single man, the promise of good wine and delicious food so agreed to go for the first course then run off to the concert.

Evening came and I got dressed. As I started to pull out of the parking garage where I live I saw about three snow flakes drift delightfully down from the sky. Less than one minute and a quarter mile later it looked like a blizzard. Loads of snow and blasting winds so that by the time I parked at the venue, maybe five minutes later, there was a quarter inch of snow on the ground. I hadn’t seen snow like that since I lived in Boston – very unusual for Charlottesville, Virginia!  Things get cancelled for less. I arrived at the wine event flustered and a tad soggy after walking only a half block in the wet snow and blustering wind, was seated to the left of the host (the person who invited me) and began chatting with the people at the table.  Comfortable, sipping a bubbly red wine while snow continued to fall, I made a judgement call within a half hour of the start time not to go to the concert. It seemed like a good idea in moment. It was still snowing and I had the wrong shoes on for walking in the snow and then I would have to park and walk blah blah blah. So I stayed only to discover towards the end of the dinner and too late to change tact and make it even to the second half of the concert, that my host is obviously involved with the woman sitting across from me. The big clue was the discussion of their pending trip  to Eastern Europe in the spring. At the end of the evening I left  feeling at first, embarrassed then shortly following, pissed that I had ditched my own empowering plans only to discover myself in a confusing and awkward situation.

The man involved was being gracious (other than failing to mention his relationship with the woman seated across from me ahead of time).  He obviously (giving him the benefit of the doubt here) invited me as a friend to join a party of interesting people at a posh event. It was nice to be invited. The dinner was delish. It was my own expectation of special treatment that got me in trouble and I am grateful that  I wasn’t flirting profusely or otherwise potentially making the evening stressful for anyone else.

I am simply tired of the awkward situations that tend to be the hallmark of my experiences where men are concerned these days.

Like the man I dated for a short time who invited me and several of my friends to a party at his home under the guise that I should meet his friends because he was that interested in me. I will call him Double Trouble – DT for short. On the night of the party DT ignored me after a brief greeting. When it came time to leave I noticed one guest lagging behind, the only other single woman present, and she was obviously not going anywhere and was very comfortable. Awkward. A few days later DT invited me to go on a nice trip to the islands.  I asked about the woman. He said they had a wonderful relationship that fulfilled all his emotional needs but he failed to feel a sexual attraction for her.  I broke it off.

But more significantly, I am also tired of ignoring the importance of taking care of myself before others.  If I had made plans with another person to go to the concert, I would not have even considered dropping by the wine event in the first place.  Why did I feel it was OK to ignore a great date with myself?

Oh well, perhaps, one day, I will learn my lesson: To thine own self be true -despite the promise of a good dinner and bubbles  or the potential of attention from the opposite sex.

Happy Valentine’s day!