Oh Great! Another F-ing Valentine’s Day

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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!

How Do You Know?

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The Shoop Shoop Song by Betty Everett was a number 1 hit back in 1964 which claimed:

“If you want to know if he loves you so, its in his kiss.”

Though I am fairly unsure if you can tell if someone loves you by a kiss, I do agree with Betty that they way to discern a person’s feelings for you is through their actions rather than their words.  I am fairly sure that I have written on this subject before so I apologize to those of you dear readers who find this a repeat subject matter but this post has been burbling in my brain and must be written or I might mentally explode.

A few years ago I became completely enamored with a man who had a considerable command of the English language. After a few months of spending time together he used his words to woo me and won my heart as surely as Cyrano won the heart of Roxanne. . His professions of my beauty, wit and charm soothed my battered post-divorce ego while his expressions of undying love hypnotized me into utter stupidity. He formulated a verbal roofee which I cheerfully swallowed. In fact I became so punch-drunk with love, I flat out ignored how he was acting.  I even made excuses for his behavior to my friends who could clearly see the reality of the situation. Of course, after a year-and-a-half, to no one’s surprise except my own, shortly after sharing his feelings of commitment towards me, the relationship became slightly less geographically convenient and he rather nonchalantly dumped me.  I was devastated while he seemed to move on with ease.  I share this embarrassing story because the scenario is all too common and if I had simply paid attention to this man’s behavior rather than his words, I could have avoided a huge heartache.

In his book, Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man, Steve Harvey makes the point that a man who is truly interested in a woman is naturally driven to do three things:

Profess,

Protect,

and

Provide.

Harvey observes that if a man is seriously interested in a woman he will want to profess his feelings for you.  I will venture to stretch this statement to include women and say that a person who is genuinely interested in another person will want to profess their feelings.  In any case,  the message is that the action of wanting to share this special person or at least tell everyone about them and how fabulous they are is inherent to genuine affection. So if somebody really likes you and has a plan to keep you around for the long run, they are going to make an effort to introduce you to their family, friends and co-workers. In 18 months, this man, I will call him Wordsmith Duane, introduced me to only one of his friends and just two of his family members – hardly the action of a person so madly in love as he claimed to be. The concept of professing his admiration, devotion and love of me to others was absent from his agenda. If we ran into someone he knew while we were out he would leave me standing there without introducing me.

It is logical that when you love someone or are at least thinking of them as long-term relationship material you will want to protect them form harm. Harvey claims this is a primal main function of the human male but I argue that women are similar in this behavior.  Note that parents are programmed to love their offspring and do all matter of things to ensure children’s survival to adulthood otherwise there would be no such things as baby monitors, car seats and bike helmets. At any rate, I have a food allergy to something that is often concealed in foods and though not a death threat has an unpleasant affect on my body resulting in misery for those around me. Wordsmith Duane failed to remember that I had this allergy and even up to the last few days of our relationship, would thoughtlessly offer this type of  food to me.  If he were genuinely concerned for my welfare he would have taken a conscious mental note of my health issue and would have not offered me this food and may have evolved to the place of asking about it at restaurants before I did.  He would have been keen to protect me in order to keep me around longer.

Then there is the providing part.  Men and women traditionally provide differently for their long-term mates and most men in my age range still tend to think in terms of providing financially for a woman. So, in our culture, if a man is comfortable paying for some things other than some dinners out, it is a sign that he is thinking about providing for you in his future. I am talking about investing in things that bring you together like a class you are both interested in or buying you a gift simply because it will bring you joy like a signed copy of your favorite book, a scarf you admired in a shop window when you were out somewhere together or picking up an umbrella when an unexpected down poor occurs (this may fall under the protection column as well).  Wordsmith Duane only paid for things he could figure out a way write off on his taxes.  In the 18 months we spent together in a “romantic” relationship he… Hah, I was just thinking about the things he bought me like flowers when I was sick and a box of chocolates for my birthday and just realized he probably wrote those off as well – I actually fail to recall one single item he gave me that didn’t come from his office as a vendor gift or that wasn’t a tax write-off. That is a bitter pill to swallow at this moment- Agh. But  you get the idea, this man was far from financially invested in our relationship.  I mean, really people, if you are treated like a business expense  then you are engaged in business not a romance.

Other indications that this guy’s brain was somewhere other than in a relationship with me were:

  • A tendency to repeat the same conversations.  I don’t mean subjects we were debating like legalization of abortion or how to cook the perfect hamburger, I mean repeated actual monologues and would tell me about something we did together like see a movie without recalling that I was there.
  • After 18 months of serious dating, he didn’t  know my middle name.
  • He didn’t read my blog- either of them.  Now if you had a practical handbook on a person  you were genuinely interested in or at least a window into that person’s likes and dislikes, you would read it, right?
  • I was constantly making excuses for his lame -ass behavior like “He is so busy,” or “He is super stressed by his work, family, or ingrown toenail….or whatever.”  But worst of all was the, “Oh, but he tells me how important I am to him and how much he loves me so I must just be making to much out of this behavior.” I was being ridiculously disrespectful to myself.

What should happen when a person is seriously interested in you and thinking about the long term?  They want to introduce you to family, friends and co-workers. He /She will invite you to social events with his friends or co-workers and make sure you all have a chance to get to know each other a little.  He/She will include you in family gatherings and chat you up to  familial elders and close relatives. That person will be eager to protect you by driving responsibly and making sure you have what you need to be comfortable. They wi

So heed my words dating people (or better yet, follow my wiser example of noticing actions), you can drink in the compliments and other nice words but when it comes to really understanding how someone feels about you it’s in their actions.

For a complimentary post click here.

To hear the Shoop Shoop Song click here.

To hear Whitney Houston’s immortal, How Will I Know click here.

 

Whitney Houston asks, "How will I know?" in her 1985 music video

Whitney Houston asks, “How will I know?” in her 1985 music video

Cyrano: a window into my own insecurities

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I went to see Cyrano de Bergerac at the American Shakespeare Center last night.  It was a fantastic production which included a performance of a lifetime for ASC regular actor, John Harrell.  I was so moved by his portrayal of the role, the  beauty of the  play’s translation by Anthony Burgess and the subject matter of the plot that I awoke crying.  Please know that I am rarely thus moved by a play but some of my emotional outburst has to do with my own frustrating, debilitating insecurities about relationships in general but primarily romantic ones.

The title character, Cyrano, is in love with his beautiful and intelligent cousin, Roxanne.  Though he is an exceptional wordsmith with a lightening wit and phenomenal swordsman, he feels that because he has an unusually big nose, that she could never love him. So instead of putting himself out on an emotional limb and pursuing his dream girl, he agrees to woo her with his words for the handsome, Christian (a fellow soldier) with whom Roxanne is infatuated. The soul bearing beauty of Cyrano’s words win Roxanne who marries Christian while believing he is the master of expression.  The two men are instantly sent to war and Cyrano writes gorgeous letters to Roxanne on behalf of Christian which make her fall even more in love to the point of realizing that the soul of this man exceeds any possible physical beauty .  Too late does Roxanne come to learn that she really loves Cyrano and everyone is sad for the loss of joy that could have been between them.

In many ways I am like Cyrano.  It is so obvious that he must take the risk to experience real love and yet despite his gifts and bravery in battle, he cannot bring himself to claim the love that is being offered him.  He is a big ass chicken.  His insecurity about his looks prevents him from taking the risk and therefore both he and Roxanne suffer.

I am a big ass chicken too.  I am so fearful of rejection and pain that I put up walls of judgment that keep people at a distance.  At least this has been my historical behavior.  I have worked hard and continue to work to become a better person in order to be confident enough to learn to identify and invite the right kind of people into my life. I can only do this by taking relationships slowly, having healthy boundaries and striving to express my needs, thoughts and desires in clear, respectful ways.  This does not sit well with all people but then that makes it easy to weed out the type of person who should remain on the outside of my personal relationship wall. I am not perfect at this but I am at least trying.

What has triggered this burst of emotional turmoil? I have been seeing someone who has a great deal of potential to share a long term relationship and I am moving from a space of whining about wishing that that could happen to the possibility of actually having someone in my life so I AM FREAKING OUT. A perfectly normal reaction to such an adjustment I am sure.  And most likely all I needed to do what write this blog and get it out of my system so I can continue to inch forward.

 

One thing I am sure about though is I don’t want to by a Cyrano in terms of being my own worst enemy when it comes to a love connection so I must learn to take the risk one way or another.   Wish me luck.

 

John Harrell as Cyrano, Sara Hymes as Roxanne and Patrick Midgley as Christian in ASC's production of Cyrano de Bergerac

John Harrell as Cyrano, Sara Hymes as Roxanne and Patrick Midgley as Christian in ASC’s production of Cyrano de Bergerac

PS: If you like theatre or even if you don’t and you like a good story, I strongly encourage you to make your way to Staunton, Va to the American Shakespeare Center to see this production of Cyrano de Bergerac. For information click here.

The Dance Audition

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images All of my friends know that I am passionate about dancing.  It all started when one of my older sisters taught me how to Pony at the age of three.  By age six I was in ballet class.  Years passed by learning tap, modern and jazz and by age 14 I was dancing weekly in disco clubs aka Saturday Night Fever.  Cotillion introduced me to ballroom dances like the waltz but also social dances like ChaCha, Foxtrot, Jitterbug and Swing and I am pretty sure it is a requirement to learn to Shag in order to graduate from private school in Richmond, Va where I grew up. I spent the better part of my college and early career years in dance clubs bumping and grinding to my hearts content and people love me to attend their weddings because they know I will decorate the dance floor for hours at the reception.  In fact I met my second husband while dancing (click here for story). You get the picture. So now my dance habit manifests itself with Latin.  Usually, at least once a week I squeeze in a lesson and and hour of  spicy Salsa or sensual Bachata seasoned with the occasional Cha cha thrown in depending on the mood of the DJ. And I LOVE IT. It is my way to relax, socialize and zen out of my usual world while getting some serious exercise. But one of the best things about social dancing is how it defines character and relationship potential. One’s approach to and execution of a dance is a litmus test for their way of relating to people which is why usually on the second or third date I invite a man to go dancing with me.  I know that dancing may not be a priority in a man’s life but trust me, this works.  Here’s what I can learn through this process.

1. How the invitation happens – Usually somewhere in the first conversations the question of “What do you like to do for fun?” emerges.  Part of my answer naturally includes dancing, the mere mention of which often evokes a look of terror on the face of the man who asked. Fearful or not, how he responds is what is important. If he clearly states within seconds that he will never get on a dance floor for any reason, I know that there is a lack of open mindedness that could inhibit a good relationship.  If he offers to come dance with me despite his fear of making an ass of himself on the dance floor, he earns major points for being a good sport and showing at least a supportive interest in something that is meaningful to me.  If he enthusiastically jumps at the chance to invite himself along mentioning a long time desire to learn how to dance, he is on his way to winning my heart because he has demonstrated a definite interest in something for which I am passionate with the potential to share the experience in the long term. And if he tells me he already  enjoys dancing, well then, he gets an instant invitation to prove his mettle on the dance floor (sometimes people pleasers will tell me they dance and they really don’t or reveals blatant red flags on the dance floor and must be banished from the potential mate list immediately.

2. How the man does at the lesson- Does he pay attention to the instructor and do his best to grasp the basics?  His attention span dictates his level of commitment.  Usually, I am not paying much attention to him during the lesson since the partners are rotated.  Since I live in a world of many social events it is important for a partner to be able to handle this type of social activity where I may have to be attentive to other people- some people can handle that, others not so well.

3. Making it flow- It would be ridiculous to expect a first time dancer to be able to dance well after one lesson. Even seasoned dancers must practice a new step for a while before they are good at it.  The key is can he keep time with the music and let go enough to at least have fun.  When my high-school flame came to visit me a couple of years ago, we went salsa dancing and even though he didn’t get the steps, we had a blast just improvising on the dance floor in time to the music.  Relationships must have ” flow “( that magic of just being in the zone) even if the two of you are doing something different than everybody else.

4. Indication of relationship potential- Social dancing is about clear communication, allowing your partner to be themselves and a willingness to be in the moment.  The leader of the dance must clearly and gently communicate the desired dancing pattern, the follower must be open to feeling those communications and trusting of the leader.  The follower will only trust the leader if the leader provides clear direction, otherwise the follower is confused and may try to guess the movement which usually ends in disaster – just like in normal relationships.  When there is clear communication and willingness to receive it, then the dance is harmonious even when each partner dances with their own style and flair. Clear communication comes from confidence.  If a man gets out there and is a disaster at dancing that is fine but how he handles that indicates how he will handle other difficult situations. The real jerk will blame someone or something like the DJ or the instructor for his ineptitude. He will be closed minded about suggestions from seasoned dancers.  The total ass will say he knows how to dance, prove himself to be a liar and be a pain to dance with. I literally had a guy tell me he danced Salsa for nearly a decade and when we danced, he wasn’t even doing the basic step correctly which made our steps out of synch. He stepped on my feet three times in one dance and jerked my arms so forcefully to spin (also out of time with the music due to the incorrect step) that both my shoulders hurt the next day. Another of his partners stopped him mid-dance  to show him the basic step at which he became super offended and wanted to leave. That was a very clear message and explained a lot about why he was single, his questionable employment and basic attitude of limitation.

A good man who has trouble with dancing is honest about it laughs it off and comes up with a solution to dancing that is right for him whether it is not dancing or taking lessons but whichever he chooses he does it with confidence and grace.  A good dancing man knows how to send signals appropriately and respectfully and improvise when needed. So you see why it is important for me to take potential mates dancing? It is not necessarily about the physical aspect- though it can be nice to see how a man moves- it is more about relationship potential assessment than anything else.

Maybe you have a good way to assess relationship potential.  If so, share.

The Rock Star

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When I first started this blog I made a list of some of the men I had dated like bank robber  but I carelessly omitted an important title – Rock Star.  OK, when I met Dave Brockie,  during our first year in Art School at Virginia Commonwealth University, he was not a rock star nor did his preppy button down Oxford shirt looks indicate that he might ever be one. But I, along with a collection of other arts students, punk rockers and club kids got to witness his transformation into his alter ego, Odurus Urungus, that lead the “punk” band GWAR to enough fame to go on world tours and garner two Grammy nominations.

It must have been the summer of 1984…or maybe ’85. The dates are irrelevant.  It was Richmond, Virginia and it was as hot and muggy as a Bikram class with 100 people. We were both in our early twenties and crackling with hard bodied sexuality. Most of our friends had left town for other adventures or at least the respite of air-conditioning in their parent’s comfortable homes in whatever suburbs from which they originated leaving us to discover each other with little notice by our social circle.

Brockie was already known in the local music scene due to his involvement with a band called Death Piggy which played local bars and Schaefer Court at VCU and was about to envision Odurus during a drug induced splurge of creativity.  By the next summer he and the original GWAR members would be squaters  in the Milk Bottle Building carving the first character costumes out of foam.

I was a fixture on the dance club circuit, marking my weeks by what club I was in rather than the actual day.  (If I was at the Bus Stop it must be Wednesday.) My wardrobe gleaned from almost daily visits to fan area Thrift Stores where store owners simply gave up selling stuff to me and lent dresses, shoes, jewelry and bags for the night with the understanding that I would pass out business cards to anyone who asked about my outfit.

I fail to recall how we became involved.  We already knew each other so there was not a moment of spotting each other from across a crowded room or anything as charming as that to mark the beginning of our little affair but there was an undeniable, tractor beam of physical attraction between us that resulted in insatiable, power-full sexual encounters. We could barely be alone for ten seconds before garments were ripping from flesh and raw animal passion engulfed us. I think many women may have had this experience of Dave, but I swear there was something different about the two of us. Some primal connection from a past life, maybe, but definitely something.

At any rate, we did stuff other couples did at the time, like talk on the phone, go to the movies and eat in restaurants. But anyone who knew Dave Brockie will tell you that he was intense, expressive and intensely expressive.  There was just something unique going on in that oversized head of his, a world that intrigued me but that I was pretty sure I did not want to dwell in.  He could be so endearingly sweet yet equally crass and thoughtless.  And, ohmygod, the violence in his art.  His paintings at the time were filled with sex and violence, blood and gore.  Cartoon like but raw. I often thought it would be amazing to be in his head for about 20 minutes but any time over that would be too much.

I remember one time we were out with my cousin, another woman close to our age, and she expressed an interest in him.  I told Dave that if he liked her I would be OK with them having a tryst and he became super indignant.  I asked him to explain why he was so angry and he just couldn’t and he stormed off.  We never agreed on that but we did make up only to end the relationship soon after.

Dave wanted to give me a painting and so we made a date for me to come to his apartment to pick one out.  When I arrived he was surprised (he was already stoned or tripping) we greeted each other in our own special way then he said he had promised some of his friends to drop some acid and break into the National and did I want to come along.  I said, “No” and expressed some dismay regarding the change in plans.  Dave said he really wanted to go with this friends but I could wait for him.  I said “No” again and left.  That was the end of our summer fling but not the end of our attraction.

A few years later, after I was married and had become a mother, my then husband and I went to the 930 Club in DC to see a GWAR show as a break from early parenting.  I went to the green room to see Dave and Don Draculitch (who was another VCU pal).  Dave was chatting with some major reporter from the Post or somewhere.  It was as though he could telepathically sense me because once I was fully in the room he stopped talking to the reporter, turned around and made a bee line to hug and kiss me.  “Mary Burruss, ” he beamed.  I introduced him to my husband then Dave sidled up a little closer and looking down into my eyes, a mischievous grin forming across his face, asked, in all sincerity, If I would come back after the show and go back to the hotel with him. I laughed as if he were joking but he really wasn’t. And to be honest, it took a great deal of restraint to ignore his request but I behaved and at the end of the show went home with my husband.  There were other incidents over the years were we would run into each other and I would detect that same twinkle in his eye and he in mine- not memory but gleeful possibility.

But of course it was impossible.  I could not cross the line into the kind of life Dave had chosen though I applaud him for making a living out of truly doing and being what he loved.

I was oddly touched when he died of a heroin overdose on March 23rd of this year.  I hadn’t seen him for four or five years though I had toyed with asking him for that painting.In  a profound way it was the perfect time for Brockie to check out.  He embodied youth and child-like wonder so at age 50, the precipice in time when our lives transition from youth to undeniable adulthood and pending limitation, it was right for him to leave  quietly.  I like to think he simply left his body as part of his drug trip, got distracted by something and forgot to jump back into his skin.

I cried rivers for the loss of my own youth that Dave symbolized but I didn’t cry for him.  He had an excellent ride, performing for crowds all over the world, making art, living his perverse dreams. What more could anyone ask for?

Three days after his death, he visited me in a dream to tell me he loved me and give me some advice -which I have now forgotten.

I don’t know if I will ever experience that kind of carnal chemistry with another human being again in this lifetime but maybe one summer with Dave Brockie for a lover sufficiently filled that quota.

 

Oderus-urungus-04

Defining Moments

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I am hiking behind my boyfriend of six months through a forest of leafless trees on an early spring day in 1989.  We are backpacking somewhere in West Virginia with two other couples and have taken an off-trail short cut, bushwhacking through young trees with bendy switch-like branches. Thwack! my beloved walks through a branch and lets it snap back, smacking me in the forehead.  It hurts but I giggle and ask him to be more mindful of the branches.  Less than two minutes later another skinny branch whacks across my bare shin, this time leaving a scratch.  “Ouch!”, I exclaim.  I ask again that he hold the branches rather than let them switch back. This is common trail courtesy anyway.  He remembers this for the next couple of branches then returns to his original behavior.  After the fourth or fifth round of thwacking and asking I realize that he is uninterested in changing his behavior and  I purposefully lag far enough behind to keep from being hit every few minutes.

This was a defining moment. One of those bridges one crosses in a nanosecond from innocence into knowledge. Oprah would call it an “Aha, moment”.  I realized this guy had little consideration for me and it was the beginning of the end of our relationship. That this behavior- the lack of consideration demonstrated by letting branches and briars smack into me -even after I asked him to be more aware- was an indication of how he would treat me for the rest of our relationship.

When a relationship is wrong, your instincts will warn you with a revelation. When it does you have a choice to listen or ignore that inner voice. In every failed relationship I’ve had, I can recall  one of these instances, a window into the future that indicated exactly what I was getting.  Experience and heartache has taught me to heed these moments and it least make a conscious decision to stay or go rather than simply ignoring the signs and returning to the blissful blindness typical of the first several months of a relationship.

Not in tune with your instincts?

The best way to get acquainted with your inner knowledge that can reveal great truths out of seemingly everyday moments is to spend time with your self. Weekends alone. Keep a journal. Meditate. Take long walks in nature.  Vacation solo. Whatever it takes to get into your own head and learn to hear your greater intelligence. I promise it will serve you well. Then the next time you feel that tightening in the pit of your stomach and a revelation smacks you in the face you will know weather to keep walking with that person or to turn around and walk the other way.

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How to Spot a Skunk

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When people discover that I write a dating blog they often ask me how can they determine if someone is right for them.  If you have been reading you know I have mentioned many signs that may signal potential problems down the relationship road but the absolute best indicator of someone’s character is how they react in a crisis.

Certainly everyone can behave relatively well during good times, particularly if they have the motive of attracting you.  This is one of the problems I have with long distance relationships because a person can easily hide a hideous personality or major character flaw when they only have to be pleasant for a short period of time generally doing pleasant things like wining and dining and having sex. Life is a ball and you may want it to go on forever only to be horribly disappointed when that person turns out to be ill suited as an everyday-take-out-the-trash-clean-the toilet-do-the-grocery-shopping life.

No, the good times are not the test.  The test is how does a person react when things go wrong.  Do they fall apart, drink heavily, throw tantrums, get violent, angry, laugh or simply breath deeply and make the next logical move or what?  Big hint here people- you want to be with the person who can either laugh or breath and move to the next logical step or both because most of life is about handling stress and dealing with messes.

Here is an example that still makes me giggle.

I invited an intriguing man, “Tom”  and his dog, “Marley” out for a hike along a charming bit of the Appalachian trail one warm early spring day. We drove a ways out of town to the trail but it was closed so I suggested a less interesting but near by place to walk thinking that with the shortened hiking time we might stop at a vineyard  on the way home for a nice glass of wine.  Within five minutes of starting out, the dog took off running at full speed across a field towards a skunk.  Though its owner tried in vein to stop him, curious little “Marley” stuck his nose directly into the skunks backside as though it were a small dog to identify the way that dogs do and, oh yes, the skunk did what skunks do when they feel their personal space invaded- and sprayed right in the dog’s face! Tom trotted calmly over as the skunk sauntered away, and gently clamped the leash on Marley’s neck and said, “Well, it will be an interesting ride back.”

We walked a little more and banished the fragrant pooch to the back of the SUV and endured a painfully smelly 30 minute ride to a pet store to pick up de-stnkifying shampoo.

The day was cut short and it was a truly uncomfortable situation but this guy kept his cool even in the face of my intermitent bursts of laughter.

That my friends, is the kind of temperament that can get you through the hassles  of daily life.

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