Category Archives: Relationships

Coffee for two?

photo-for-dating-blog3

(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.

Advertisements

Cycles of Attraction

bike1

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.

 

Brian

Brothers

In honor of National Brothers Day I thought I’d write about my little brother, Brian.

Brian is two years younger than me, and two inches taller (which doesn’t seem right, but whatever) and is really one of the best guys I know. He’s always ready to help, and is cool under pressure which – if you had a childhood like ours – was a vital skill.

And by “childhood like ours” I don’t mean to imply our childhood wasn’t good, or healthy or loving. It was those things. But it was also dangerous, and daring, and exciting – mostly because we made it that way.

Here’s the sort of stuff I’m talking about:

Our parents were born in Ireland – and because they were they liked to go to Irish events to comingle with other Irish immigrants and do Irishy stuff.

One Saturday when I was about 12 and Brian 10, they piled us in the station wagon and took us to an Irish dancing competition at a local middle school (think Riverdance for 7th graders) so that we could watch the children of other Irish immigrants bounce up and down to really fast Celtic music.

Whatever.

Brian and I pretty much hated that stuff because, well, I guess because we wanted to be American, and outside, and running wild, and – you get the point.

So the minute our folks looked in one direction, we beat feet in the other. And to make sure we executed a clean – and dance spectating free – getaway we ran flat out. Right around a corner and into the parking lot. Where a car was coming. Pretty fast too. That Brian ran right in front of. And which hit him.

Really hard.

I was right behind my little brother and saw the whole thing. I saw him run in front of the big sedan – I saw him fly up into the air after it slammed into him, and I saw him land on its hood and then roll off one side as the terrified driver stomped on the brakes.

And then I watched Brian fall to the ground in a crumpled heap.

At which point he sprang to his feet, shot me an “oh crap” look, and took off running as fast as he could. I took off running too. After all he’d just been hit by a car – which we were pretty sure we’d get in trouble for – so there was no time to waste.

It was that sort of danger and excitement we were always on the lookout for.

On that day we’d got lucky and it fell in our laps – but most times we had to actually create the peril. Like the time we ran down a herd of deer in the field behind our house with homemade spears (kitchen knives lashed to broom sticks in case you were wondering).

Just a heads-up here to Greenpeace: Despite our best throws, no animals were harmed in the making of that adventure.

From there it pretty much ramped up to include stuff like BB gun battles, forest fires, and cliff climbing. But in consideration of those of you with weaker constitutions (and Mom, who sometimes reads my column) I’ll leave the more daring stuff to the imagination.

I will tell you this: You know how your memory of you from childhood seems sort of average, but there’s always one whose exploits seem larger than life? Well that was Brian.

And remember – he was my little brother.

But at a point he just seemed to get, well, bigger. I don’t mean in stature – he actually didn’t get tall until later – I mean the stuff he was doing started seeming bigger than the stuff the rest of us kids were doing.

Even though still kind of short, in about the 9th grade he started dunking basketballs during our neighborhood games.  On regulation height baskets.

Up until that time he’d been my cohort, my partner in crime (I wish that was just a figure of speech, but one escapade actually landed us in a holding cell). He was my brother. He was the copilot on our go cart runs down ridiculously steep hills, the second to jump the bicycle ramp behind me, and Tonto to my Lone Ranger.

But then he got strong. And fast. And big.

And pretty soon we weren’t so much partners as independent contractors. We started going our own ways when stuff like girls and cars began to happen. Although there was that time I threw him the keys to my hot rod and told him to drive it home because I was gonna ride uptown with some friends.

He might have been 14 at the time.

But our paths started to diverge. As the little brother I used to sometimes look down on got harder to live up to I think I created distance between us.

It got to the point where I wouldn’t get on a basketball court with him anymore. And on a skateboard – which was not only transportation in our neighborhood, but a lifestyle – he started doing things I’d only seen in the skateboard magazines.

It wasn’t too much later that, following a chat with Uncle Sam, I headed off for a series of Air Force bases. After that I heard Brian got a basketball scholarship. And then broke some kind of state high jumping record. I think I heard he was lead singer for a punk band too. And one day I opened a magazine and saw him in an ad.

After I got out of the service I think Brian was living the life of a SoCal surfer. I went to college, got married, had some kids and got a mortgage. But Brian was always somewhere like Hawaii, or Bali – in my mind he was always still doing those things that seemed just a little larger than what others did. And what I did.

And for a long time there was more than just a physical distance between us.

Every couple of years we’d hook up at Christmas or Thanksgiving, and catch each other up on the latest. I’d tell him what my kids were doing and he’d tell me about some amazing adventure he’d had. And then we’d head off in our own direction again – until next Christmas. Or the one after that.

My little brother is now 51 – which makes me 53.

And while I can’t quite put my finger on when, something happened, quite a few years back now, that let me get back closer to the only brother I have. I’m not sure how it happened, or why, and don’t really care at this point, but somewhere along the line I got over myself.

I got over my perceived shortcomings, and whatever else it was that was causing me to do that crazy habit I have sometimes of being aloof – and I found my little brother again.

You know today is not really National Brothers Day – but it would be stupid to wait for a contrivance like that to say the things a brother needs to hear.

And what I want to tell Brian is I’m always right behind him – no matter what’s around the corner.

Why Not To Sweep A Girl Off Her Feet…

suicidal_han_solo

Do you remember when Star Wars came out?

And no I don’t mean any of the recent batch, I mean the original Star Wars – the real one – which came out in the 70’s.

I was at Britton Junior High then when word began to filter through the ranks of teenage boys there was a new, amazing sci-fi film coming. I think my brother and I pestered Dad to take us before the film was even out.

And when the thing finally did come to the Century Theater in San Jose you can bet we were there, in line, with what seemed like everyone else in San Jose. And it was amazing – I’d never seen anything like it before. Sure, there was 2001 A Space Odyssey, but with all the apes and symphony music it seemed more like a PBS documentary than anything else.

Star Wars, with its western style shoot outs and it’s clearly demarcated bad guy (Darth Vader wore even more black than Yul Brynner) was a flick us kids could really get into – and so we did. Soon the whole neighborhood was playing out the Millennium Falcon escape scene and Tie Fighter vs. X-wing battles until the street lights came on.

It was a seminal moment in our young lives.

So imagine my delight when the new batch of George Lucas shoot-em-ups came out. That was the late 90’s – by which time I had a couple boys of my own. Charlie was still too young to sit through a movie that didn’t feature a purple dinosaur or talking toys – but his older brother Connor had just started grade school – and I relished the thought of taking him to see the new Star Wars.

I of course thought it’d be just like when I was young. The movie would be awesome, and all his friends would see it, and then they’d go home and re-enact it over and over until the next one came out.

So when opening day arrived I had the theater pre-selected. I went by Connor’s school and, like any good dad, told the attendance lady that he had a dentist appointment – and then took him to see the show.

And it was as amazing as I’d anticipated – well, until the show started. Holy cow was that movie a hot mess. It had no discernible plot or leading man, and the racial stereotypes were so atrocious I spent the movie praying my boy was too young to notice.

Has that ever happened to you – where you were expecting something to be great and it fell flat? I guess it’s what happens when someone over-promises but under-delivers. And it happens in relationships too. Have you ever seen a couple start strong, and then come undone?

It happened recently to a friend of mine. He met a woman that he found himself very attracted to, so they dated a few times and his feelings for her grew – fast. I don’t think a month had passed before he started dropping the L word.

My buddy came on very strong with this woman at first, but I think that was before he knew who she really was – before he knew her quirks. Before he knew that she would probably not fit his life. But we guys do that sometimes – and I know it makes girls a little crazy, and we’re sorry about that, really we are – but we do it anyway.

And that can be a hard thing to explain.

I could tell you it’s because of those Hollywood movies where the guy sweeps the girl off her feet. But that wouldn’t be right, because we don’t go to those movies – but women do. As a result when the guy does come on strong women can be flattered, and go with it. They don’t always use their better judgment and question: “Wait a minute, this guy barely knows me – so how can he know I’m the one for him?” Instead they think their moment in the sun has finally arrived, just like George Clooney and Brad Pitt conveyed it would.

The only trouble is that after coming on so strong we guys often spook ourselves and then slow way down, leaving the woman sort of out ahead on her own, wondering what just happened.

At coffee this morning Loretta and I were discussing that paradox when she reminded me that I didn’t exactly sweep her off her feet. We actually started out as friends who grew very close and fell in love. We started contemplating some of our previous relationships and sort of discovered that the ones which did start strong – both hers and mine – were not the ones that lasted.

We also noticed that those relationships were much earlier in our lives. It’s my belief that at age 40 I was a product of my 30’s – and in my 30’s I thought I had the world by the tail. I thought I knew myself, and just about everything else. So when I reached 40 I was not the enlightened Obi Wan I am now, but pretty much under informed and self-centered – think Han Solo with a motorcycle.

And as such I used to come on pretty strong to women. And you know what? It never worked out – not once. I think that’s because too strong an opening play just can’t be sustained. And now, in retrospect I think my strong opening plays had everything to do with me and probably very little to do with the women. I wanted what I wanted – and I wanted it now.

Loretta confided to me that, as she made her way through her 40’s, if a guy came on too strong that behavior started sending up red flags. I think what she was saying was if a guy took his time, and got to know her, it made her more comfortable with the thought of maybe going the distance with him.

In my own case I think I came to a similar conclusion – if from the other side of the equation. I think I figured out, at some level, that if I got to know the woman to see if she’d fit my life before charging in with my light saber, I’d have a far better experience – as would she.

So it turns out that we’ve worked out, at least in part, because we have entered a stage in life where our concern for another – each other – have ended up making our own life a better place. And that’s a really cool thing.

Looks like there’s an upside to being old enough to remember the real Star Wars.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Why Not To Sweep A Girl Off Her Feet…

suicidal_han_solo

Do you remember when Star Wars came out?

And no I don’t mean any of the recent batch, I mean the original Star Wars – the real one – which came out in the 70’s.

I was at Britton Junior High then when word began to filter through the ranks of teenage boys there was a new, amazing sci-fi film coming. I think my brother and I pestered Dad to take us before the film was even out.

And when the thing finally did come to the Century Theater in San Jose you can bet we were there, in line, with what seemed like everyone else in San Jose. And it was amazing – I’d never seen anything like it before. Sure, there was 2001 A Space Odyssey, but with all the apes and symphony music it seemed more like a PBS documentary than anything else.

Star Wars, with its western style shoot outs and it’s clearly demarcated bad guy (Darth Vader wore even more black than Yul Brynner) was a flick us kids could really get into – and so we did. Soon the whole neighborhood was playing out the Millennium Falcon escape scene and Tie Fighter vs. X-wing battles until the street lights came on.

It was a seminal moment in our young lives.

So imagine my delight when the new batch of George Lucas shoot-em-ups came out. That was the late 90’s – by which time I had a couple boys of my own. Charlie was still too young to sit through a movie that didn’t feature a purple dinosaur or talking toys – but his older brother Connor had just started grade school – and I relished the thought of taking him to see the new Star Wars.

I of course thought it’d be just like when I was young. The movie would be awesome, and all his friends would see it, and then they’d go home and re-enact it over and over until the next one came out.

So when opening day arrived I had the theater pre-selected. I went by Connor’s school and, like any good dad, told the attendance lady that he had a dentist appointment – and then took him to see the show.

And it was as amazing as I’d anticipated – well, until the show started. Holy cow was that movie a hot mess. It had no discernible plot or leading man, and the racial stereotypes were so atrocious I spent the movie praying my boy was too young to notice.

Has that ever happened to you – where you were expecting something to be great and it fell flat? I guess it’s what happens when someone over-promises but under-delivers. And it happens in relationships too. Have you ever seen a couple start strong, and then come undone?

It happened recently to a friend of mine. He met a woman that he found himself very attracted to, so they dated a few times and his feelings for her grew – fast. I don’t think a month had passed before he started dropping the L word.

My buddy came on very strong with this woman at first, but I think that was before he knew who she really was – before he knew her quirks. Before he knew that she would probably not fit his life. But we guys do that sometimes – and I know it makes girls a little crazy, and we’re sorry about that, really we are – but we do it anyway.

And that can be a hard thing to explain.

I could tell you it’s because of those Hollywood movies where the guy sweeps the girl off her feet. But that wouldn’t be right, because we don’t go to those movies – but women do. As a result when the guy does come on strong women can be flattered, and go with it. They don’t always use their better judgment and question: “Wait a minute, this guy barely knows me – so how can he know I’m the one for him?” Instead they think their moment in the sun has finally arrived, just like George Clooney and Brad Pitt conveyed it would.

The only trouble is that after coming on so strong we guys often spook ourselves and then slow way down, leaving the woman sort of out ahead on her own, wondering what just happened.

At coffee this morning Loretta and I were discussing that paradox when she reminded me that I didn’t exactly sweep her off her feet. We actually started out as friends who grew very close and fell in love. We started contemplating some of our previous relationships and sort of discovered that the ones which did start strong – both hers and mine – were not the ones that lasted.

We also noticed that those relationships were much earlier in our lives. It’s my belief that at age 40 I was a product of my 30’s – and in my 30’s I thought I had the world by the tail. I thought I knew myself, and just about everything else. So when I reached 40 I was not the enlightened Obi Wan I am now, but pretty much under informed and self-centered – think Han Solo with a motorcycle.

And as such I used to come on pretty strong to women. And you know what? It never worked out – not once. I think that’s because too strong an opening play just can’t be sustained. And now, in retrospect I think my strong opening plays had everything to do with me and probably very little to do with the women. I wanted what I wanted – and I wanted it now.

Loretta confided to me that, as she made her way through her 40’s, if a guy came on too strong that behavior started sending up red flags. I think what she was saying was if a guy took his time, and got to know her, it made her more comfortable with the thought of maybe going the distance with him.

In my own case I think I came to a similar conclusion – if from the other side of the equation. I think I figured out, at some level, that if I got to know the woman to see if she’d fit my life before charging in with my light saber, I’d have a far better experience – as would she.

So it turns out that we’ve worked out, at least in part, because we have entered a stage in life where our concern for another – each other – have ended up making our own life a better place. And that’s a really cool thing.

Looks like there’s an upside to being old enough to remember the real Star Wars.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Connections

sant-pere07

I DON’T KNOW ABOUT YOU, but in my life everything seems to remind me of something.

Is it because I’m 48 — and as such have 48 years’ worth of prior experiences to compare all my new experiences to? Maybe — I really don’t know. All I do know is that nowadays, just about everything I see or do reminds me of something else I’ve seen or done.

Take the other day for example: I was sitting down reading this newspaper when I had the strong memory of another day when I was sitting down and reading a newspaper — but on that day it wasn’t The Herald, it was the Vacaville Reporter. That memory of reading the Reporter has to be at least 10 years old, because I moved away from Vacaville in 2002. Continue reading

Tagged , , , ,

Are You Here to Pick Up or Drop Off?

I can always find something I want at the Goodwill store.

Have you noticed there’s usually an item that catches your eye at Goodwill? I think it’s because most of their stuff reminds us of something we used to have. Maybe it’s an old Mr. Coffee which looks just like the one that always made your morning better. Or maybe it’s a jacket that’s reminiscent of a really warm coat you wish you hadn’t parted with.

A few years ago I was in a Goodwill store when I saw a desk I fell for immediately. It was sort of like a desk I’d had before, only better. Its color was a warm shade of cherry. Its lines were beautiful. And it was so big that its presence was, well, striking. Continue reading

Tagged , , , ,

Baseball’s been very, very good to me

I hate baseball.

I know those are strong words, but it took me a long time to get here. I guess the truth probably is that I don’t really hate baseball – hate is such a callous word – so how about this: I deeply dislike baseball. Continue reading

Tagged , , ,

Semi-Superhero

 

I use to be a superhero.

Well, a semi-superhero, anyways. When my two sons were little – probably about eight and ten – I told them that the man they knew to be their dad was actually the mild mannered alter ego of a superhero named Bugflector. Continue reading

Tagged , , , , , ,

She Deserved Better

 

I was behind a man and woman when they crashed their motorcycle.

I was coming up the middle of a three lane highway when traffic across all the lanes started slowing drastically ahead of us. Something was clearly wrong. Then I could see what (part of) the problem was: There was, spinning and flopping down the middle lane, the whole tread of a tire. I didn’t think too much of it, as treads come off cars and trucks all the time. What struck me as odd was how severely the traffic ahead of me was reacting to it. I thought as common as this sort of thing is, surely most of the other drivers had seen it happen before.

So why the big slowdown? Continue reading

Tagged , , , , ,