I found this question amongst the various birthday greetings on my Facebook page. ( I adore how you get to feel like a superstar on your birthday.)

Totally throwing it out there into the universe but…. any chance you and Walt would run a piece/class/talk about finding the perfect love later in life. First time I met you guys in Long Beach I have been so so so wondering how you did it, how you keep it going and how can you teach other people just like you to get their miracle ending….. Hey, you have to ask… Not so much Sleepless in Seattle as Lonely in Larchmont……… C’mon – definite blockbuster.—AnnMarie

I used to write about this topic a lot because, as an adult child of an alcoholic, I had some major issues when it came to intimacy, love, and dating. I had a lot of shit that got in the way of creating anything remotely healthy, so it was something I was interested in exploring.

I’ve found myself talking about this very subject these past few weeks. It’s almost as if AnnMarie opened some cosmic floodgate. So I decided to combine a couple of older pieces here in the interest of being comprehensive, if a bit long. Consider this a free mini-course from someone who wishes you well. So here goes.

 

When I was in my late 30’s, I found a wonderful therapist named Felicia. She was an older woman (probably the same age I am now), with greying, curly hair and warm, intelligent eyes.  It was the narcissist I was dating who’d found her for me, who recognized my need for a mentor, someone mature and wise, whom I could respect and learn from. (Back then there were no such things as coaches, and in many ways, that’s what she was for me.) She was a gift from the least likely source. Goes to show you that labels, like narcissist, are reductive.

I needed to heal after my ex-husband’s long illness and death, that was the driving force behind seeking a therapist.  I was wracked with grief and guilt. But what I learned about myself in that year with Felicia filled three spiral-bound notebooks.

For the first time in my life, I came face to face with the misconceptions about life I’d picked up from my alcoholic upbringing.  Lord, how Felicia would stare back in horror as I recounted how I saw the world! She was the rational, outside perspective I needed most.

One day, as I was expressing my frustration with The Narcissist, about my inability to get him to love me in any way, shape, or form, she told me this:

You can’t know this now, not from where you come from, but there is a man out there—I promise you—who will love you the way you need and want.  He will be your champion. He will nurture you in ways you never thought possible. He will make you feel safe, secure, and prized.

I cried in the car all the way home.

Years later, I met and married Walt.  And I realized—in a jerk your head back kind of moment—-Felicia’s prediction had come true.  Here was a man who loved me in ways that FRIED MY BRAIN.

We’ve been together for thirteen years.  And this is just a short list of the things Walt does to show me love EVERY SINGLE DAY, not just on my raggedy-assed birthday:

• Brings me my cup of coffee at 5 AM
• Snuggles with me in bed as we chat about our day
• Hugs me—like a Koala, a tree– for a full 5 minutes before he forces me to get up for our run
• Runs with me while we discuss the world
• Makes me breakfast
• Puts out my 542 vitamin pills and a glass of water
• Heats up my “special” cup, and my almond milk, before he pours me another cup of coffee
• Writes W&A on the steamed-over window in our bathroom
• Calls me 2 or 3 times if either of us is away
• Opens the car door for me before he gets in

And I pity the fool who gives me trouble when Walt is in the area. I. Pity. The. Fool.

If I told you about the things he does on a less frequent basis, believe me, you’d have to throw yourself off a cliff.

So why do I tell you this, particularly when I know that’s what you want more than anything else?

Because Felicia’s statement is true for you, too.

It took me years to be ready for a man like Walt.  Years. Because, who I was before would never have drawn such a creature to me.  I was attracting narcissists, and married men, and people totally incapable of loving me because I didn’t know how to love myself. Actually, I didn’t know how to love, period.  Not really. All that manipulative stuff we do to convince people that we’re worthy isn’t love; it’s what I like to call a perky monkey dance. Intimacy, the very foundation of love, requires that you allow others to see you for who you truly are. All of you: the good and the bad.

Talk about risk!

I had to think long and hard about HOW I’m different from the way I was way back then.  And if I were going to choose one thing—for the sake of brevity— I’d say it’s the way I communicate when things are not going my way.

People like me are taught to keep our yaps shut when we’re upset.  In fact, if we know what’s good for us, we’ll act like everything is HUNKY DORY just so we don’t draw fire.

• We smile when we feel like crying.
• We bite our tongue when we feel like screaming.
• We stand stock still when we feel like bolting.
• We look away so our true feelings can’t be read.
• We work harder so we can distract ourselves, and them
• We say we’re fine when we’re anything but
• We convince ourselves the phase will pass
• We beat ourselves up instead of directing our anger at them
• We make excuses for their bad behavior
• We try harder to be helpful, or useful

I bet you can add to this list, can’t you?

When Walt and I get into it, and like any couple we have our inglorious moments, I still go quiet.  I still look away. I still shrug and sigh dramatically when he asks what’s wrong. I still pout. Like a bitch.  I still tell him I’m fine. Fine, fine, fine.

But before too long I remember that keeping my negative feelings to myself is the KISS OF DEATH.  By refusing to tell him what I’ve got going on inside my swirling head, I leave our relationship vulnerable to resentment, and we all know where that leads. Knowing this has allowed us to have the relationship we continue to have.

It has taken a very long time to trust that, by telling the ugly truth about what I’m thinking or how I feel, our relationship will not immediately explode. That I won’t be living in a cardboard box under some bridge eating cat food. Alone. Forever.

Let me wind the tape back a little. I know the very moment when I claimed my power, my worth. When I was willing to tell the truth and not pretend to be someone that I wasn’t. When I set myself up for real love.

Walt and I had just started dating.  He was in the process of cleaning up a mess from a former relationship and he was telling me a story about something I saw as a threatening entanglement.  I felt fear. I was heartbroken that this perfect man might not Be The One, the way I had so hoped. But instead of ignoring the warning signal, pretending that it didn’t bother me, I said what I was thinking in a perfectly calm voice, “I’m not sure how this relationship is going to work out for me.”

Do you see how that switches up the dynamics?

Sometimes, people don’t love us the way we want because they’re simply not capable.  There’s a motley crew out there—narcissist and sociopath among them—who flock to us because they KNOW we’ll never demand of them what others will.

Sometimes, we destroy a perfectly viable relationship because we’re too afraid to tell the truth. We let resentment take over until we have no choice but to pull the plug.

Surprised by our compatibility, people often ask Walt and me how we met. Confident, successful, talented, intelligent, he isn’t the type of guy one trips over at the bowling alley.  It’s not an accident that we share so many interests, that we have a similar energy level. I sought him out for these very qualities on Match.com.  What an idea. Choosing the characteristics you’d like, rather than making do with what you get.

(One day I’ll have Walt write about what a total mess he was, how I saved him, but for now, we’ll leave well enough alone.)

The real trick when it comes to throwing up a romantic profile is that we actually have to possess some appealing qualities. I wasn’t ready to find a Walt until I started feeling good about myself. Not even close. Our confidence level determines the kind of man (or woman) that will be attracted to us. “The price tag you put on yourself will determine in large part the value of the people and the situations you’ll pick and tolerate,” claims Dr. Laura Schlesinger. For a lot of years, I felt like crap about myself. In turn, I got the sort of man drawn to cowards.

Here are five things that allowed me to attract a fabulous partner when the time was right:

1. I actually liked myself. I had accomplished some amazing things after rediscovering my interests.
2. I knew what I wanted. I’d studied some really good men. I defined in words their finest qualities.
3. I knew, without a doubt, I could stand on my own two feet.  I’d bought my own house, went on vacations alone, and earned enough money to keep me whole.
4. I accepted those aspects of myself that would never change. I worked on the things I didn’t like.
5. I expected more.

What could you bring into your life that would convince you–not anyone else–that you have worth? What would it take for you to want to date yourself? A new talent? A sense of inner peace? An adventure resume to put Charles Lindbergh to shame?  Then, if you have the time and inclination, design a mate. You get to choose the features you want.

Like Felica says, there’s someone wonderful, just around the corner, waiting for YOU. With a steaming cup of coffee. Who will move heaven and earth to see you happy. You need to be ready, and willing, to show him who you are.