Category Archives: Dating

Coffee for two?

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(I wrote this column for the Benicia Herald a few years ago – back when I was writing as ‘The Online Dating Coach – I’m reposting in honor of National Coffee Day…)

Today is National Coffee Day, so to do my part I got up first thing this morning and trudged over to my local Starbucks to grab a cup – which is pretty much what I do on the other 364 days of the year that are not National Coffee Day.

The coffee shop’s about a 5 minute walk from my place and my routine is to roll out of bed, into some clothes, and over to get my morning pick-me-up. On the way, while I was waiting for the light to change at the intersection, a lady in sweats came powerwalking up behind me. As the walk sign illuminated she announced “Be careful – they’d just as soon run us over as look at us!”

To her warning about the cars I replied “I don’t know – people are usually pretty good” at which point a car at the far end of the crosswalk poked its front bumper into our path. My powerwalking friend yelled “SEE?!” I pointed out to her that it hadn’t hit us. Her response was “Not yet…”

All depends on how you look at it I guess. Maybe it’s that whole glass half full thing – or, rather, coffee cup.

A couple of weeks back a woman I’ll call Maria emailed me about time with a man she felt had not been spent successfully – she wrote: “I met a guy on OKCupid and we dated for a while, about 3 months. We were very attracted to each other at first, I think we still are, but as time went on we seemed to drift and I don’t know why. If something starts so well, with so much promise, what causes it to fall apart?”

Without knowing more details Maria I’d be guessing, but maybe it’ll help if I share something that happened to me.

Over the last couple of months I had a summer romance too. She and I first met online after I saw her pictures (she’s quite beautiful) and then later we met in person. My initial attraction to her was immediate – not only was she very easy to look at, but she was strong willed and creative too, all things I like.

For the first couple of weeks we were in that crush phase where everything the other does seems cute or interesting. Where you’re learning all you can about the person and filling in the parts you don’t know with assumptions that work for you.

We found that we both liked running so we ran a 10K together. We both enjoyed hiking and did so up in the hills with her dog. She had a great sense of humor (so I say because she actually got many of my jokes – not a frequent occurrence) and this strong spirit inside of her that just made you want to be where she was.

Our walks to coffee in the morning were so cool – we’d sit and get bagels and read the paper and, well, just have somebody, you know? It’s such a nice feeling to just have somebody.

Things were going really good between us – until they weren’t.

Here’s what I think happens: Attraction is the easy part – it requires no work at all and explodes onto the scene to take two people racing forward with each other. It’s fun and makes your heart beat and causes you to think about each other every chance you get, but then something interesting happens: It becomes normal, almost commonplace. What I mean is that when you meet someone you’re newly attracted to that feeling of attraction, for this person, is a brand new phenomenon in your life. Sure you’ve felt attraction before, but not for this person whom you’ve just met and know very little about.

After a few weeks or a month the feelings aren’t new anymore – and even more importantly, the things you have to add to them to continue to grow the relationship, like respect and compassion and communication, require work. But sometimes even all the work you do cannot bridge the differences between you.

I think that the romantic experiences we have when we were younger, the ones that led to marriage and kids and such, play a huge part in shaping who we are as people – and teaching us what will and won’t work for us later in life. When we are young we’re both optimistic and naïve – and that can be a dangerous combination. It can take us down very long roads with the absolute wrong person – which is much of the reason we have a 50% divorce rate today.

But I think as we age – as we grow more aware of who we are and what we do and don’t want in our lives – it becomes harder to find someone who fits the way we want them to.

Here are some telling statistics: The 50% divorce rate is for first marriages. For second marriages it’s 67%. Third marriages? 74%.

Now doesn’t that seem to go against the conventional wisdom that practice makes perfect? Wouldn’t one think that someone getting married for the second or even third time would be wise enough to avoid the pitfalls of the first go ‘round? Or do the numbers mean that as we get older, as we know ourselves better, we become more willing to enjoy and savor the good and then move on at the appropriate time? And who says that a higher divorce rate is necessarily bad news? After all doesn’t it mean we now get to go find the one who fits our life better?

Maria I think that as we grow more seasoned we start to move away from the idea that a relationship, in order to be considered successful, has to last for years – or even for the rest of one’s life. The two months I had over the summer were really good. I was lucky enough to get to know a smart and creative woman – and I learned things from her that I will know for a very long time.

I don’t see that as failure.

So here’s a thought: What do you say we both get online, pick someone who strikes our fancy and set up coffee dates at Starbucks – I hear they serve ‘em way over half full.

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Cycles of Attraction

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I taught myself how to ride a bike – at least that’s how I remember it.

I think it was the summer of 1968, when I was about four years old. Dad was in the Army and stationed at Fort McPherson in Atlanta, Georgia. We lived on post in a home that faced a large rolling green. Between that green and our house was a sidewalk that led out to the street in one direction and further into post housing in the other.

The first mode of transportation I recall using to traverse the long sidewalk was a little red fire engine. You remember the one – it had pedals on the inside of it and a bell on the hood that you’d ring with a pull of the string.

Those were safe and comfortable times inside my steel fire engine with wheels at all four corners and no real way to tip over. I’d pedal up and down the sidewalk as Mom watched from the front porch. I’d ring the bell and she’d smile – and all was right with the world.

Sometimes I’d still be out there as Dad walked home after he got off duty. I’d see him coming and pedal just a little faster, and ring the bell a little louder. And he’d smile – and all was right with the world.

But one day, as dad walked home, I could see he had something in tow – it was big and blue and had handlebars and naked pedals hanging off either side.

It was a bike.

I knew what bikes were – I had friends who rode them. They were typically complicated contraptions that wobbled at first until the rider got going pretty good – at which point they seemed to become a magical sort of thing that would then take its owner anywhere he wanted to go.

The bike Dad was bringing with him seemed better than most. It was a full sized bike – like a grown-up would ride – so at first I guess I thought it wasn’t for me. But when he got to where I was in my little red fire engine he said that the bike would be mine. He’d got it on post, from the wife of a friend who was shipping out and didn’t have room to bring it along.

I was excited by the idea of riding this bike. It was beautiful and it glistened in the sun. It had long, curvy handlebars with white grips, and its frame stretched up from the pedals to meet the handlebars in a long, rounded arch that resembled a slender gas tank. It was one of those bikes from the fifties that were built to resemble motorcycles – a gracefully curved and slender motorcycle.

The only reason I had any chance of riding this bike is because it was a ladies model – and as such you could step into it rather than having to throw your leg over it. But there remained the issue of how to get the whole affair started.

Dad said something about putting me on the seat and giving me a push – but in standing next to the bike I could tell that if I sat down on the seat I wouldn’t be able to touch the pedals.

And I knew from my little red engine that pedals equaled progress.

Dad was just off work and was eager to go inside, so our conversation was short. He walked the rest of the way to the house with the bike in hand and leaned it up against the porch – where I stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. I wanted to ride the bike – because that’s what boys do – but was afraid it wouldn’t work out.

Finally my desire overcame me. I climbed out of my fire engine and walked over and laid my hands on my new partner and decided I’d just figure out how to make this relationship work. I guided the sleek bike out to the sidewalk and started running, still holding onto the handlebars. When I reached a certain speed I jumped up onto the closest pedal. This action pulled the bike sharply to the left. To counter this imbalance I pushed the handlebars to the right and fought the bike back to the middle of the sidewalk.

In my memory we battled like that for the rest of the evening. Up and down the sidewalk I’d run her and then jump on – and she’d test my balance and try to throw me back off. It wasn’t until I realized that her imbalance was in direct reaction to mine that I started to make any progress at all.

And then on one pass it all sort of fell together.

I ran my run, jumped my jump and then… then I stepped fully into my new bike. I stepped in and stopped worrying – worrying about how to reach the seat, or fearing that I’d fall and fail. Before I knew it we were both gliding smoothly up and down the sidewalk –neither of us were wholly in control – yet somehow we both were.

That bike taught me a lesson I’d get to relearn some 40 odd years later.

I’ve written in this space over the last year and a half about things like baseball and motorcycles – soccer, cars and basketball. And I’ve used those illustrations to communicate my feelings for, and my journey with, the woman in my life. Maybe speaking directly isn’t my strong suit, but let me be very direct in what I’m about to say:

I love you Loretta Sayers, and the ride is just getting started.

 

A Change of Heart (Or how I tried to never meet my Fiancé)

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What did you really like when you were a small child?

For me it was cars. From my earliest memory I recall being fascinated by cars and trucks. My Mom tells me some of my first recognizable words were “Big truck” – which I’d utter whenever I saw, well, a big truck.

Before school I used to sit at the kitchen table and draw cars over and over. If the school system back then had included a course of study in sketching cars I would probably now be a professor emeritus of car drawing.

Instead what I am is a guy who writes insights and advice – which sometimes needs to be amended. But I’m getting ahead of myself – first let me finish my story about a car… Continue reading

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How online dating is different for men than women

This is something I wrote about a year ago – back when I did an online dating advice column in the newspaper. It addresses the different ways in which men and women go about relationships, and the frustrations they can lead to.

But the news isn’t all bad – the solutions are pretty easy once you get what’s really going on… Continue reading

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Chase or Space? (What to do when the guy wants out)

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When I was a kid in San Jose back in the 70’s there was a show on TV I loved called Ultra Man.

I’d rush home after school and do my homework in time to watch this English-dubbed Japanese sci-fi drama. When I YouTube the old episodes now during bouts of nostalgia I’m reminded that Ultra Man was actually a guy in a rubber suit, on a cheesy soundstage, fake fighting with other guys in rubber suits. But back then, when I was six, Ultra Man was amazing.

Continue reading

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