Nice guys make great girlfriends

I've been dating this guy for the last 6 months. He's in real estate so it's easy to talk cap rates and turn around strategies. He treats me well and looks forward to seeing me. He lives in a great big house in an exclusive upscale part of town. He drives a big black beemer and always opens the door for me. He always pays, always. We go to concerts and nice restaurants and hang out on the patio for a beer. When he leans in for a kiss, I lean away.

We have so much in common, we're good friends. Movies and TV and the big "they" taught me that friendship is the foundation for an intimate relationship. So where's the attraction? sexiness? hot man that makes me melt?

I remember a boyfriend I had in my teens. He had lived with us for his last year of high school and then went off to Air Force boot camp in San Diego. For the six or eight weeks of boot camp, I was the loyal girlfriend; sending cards and surprises to get him through. The night before I was leaving for his graduation from boot camp, I kissed another guy.

My boyfriend was a little on the skinny side but the "other" guy had great strong shoulders and he held me tight. He pulled me close and I could feel him wanting me, both in his kiss and elsewhere. He had energy, moxie and strength that I didn't know I needed. I was weak kneed and giddy. Flushed and washed in guilt, I fumbled and pushed away from him. I had a plan, I was going to San Diego in a few hours, what was I doing kissing this hot man?

I drove down and saw my boyfriend. We stayed in a hotel for a few days and it was pleasant but it wasn't mindblowingly hot. The day I got back home, it was mindblowingly hot with the other guy.

The other guy was the best lover I had ever had. He was present, playful, paying attention. I couldn't say no to him and I didn't tell anyone about him. I was playing the good girl. Having everyone think that I was the long suffering loyal girlfriend was more important than telling the truth. I was afraid that telling the truth would blow the facade and that people wouldn't like me anymore.

After a few months of pretending to be the good girlfriend, all the while making hot passionate amore with my secret lover, the boyfriend was coming home on leave.

My boyfriend drove up on a Friday nite, happy and excited about all he'd been doing for the last few months. We went to dinner and had a nice time together and the sex was pleasant.,

By the second day my boyfriend could tell that something was going on. When we went to bed instead of feeling sexy, he was feeling insecure. In this state of weakness, he wasn't able to be present intimately. His way of resolving this problem was not by facing it head on and calling me on my shit but by pouting and wanting to talk about it. In the moment, I didn't need pouting, I needed a resolution so I rolled over on top of him and brought it home.

The funny thing that I remember about this exchange is that I resented it. I felt anger and disgust for him. He was so pathetic. "Be a MAN", I thought. In my core I am feminine and feel most happy in that role. However, I can step up and be the man but if no one else will.

People often tell me that they think I am in extrovert. I have a charming way of chatting with people and putting them at ease. But, it’s not my strength. It’s an ability I’ve developed over the years and it takes all my energy. After a long day of dealing with people - even if it's at a party, I need a nap. The masculine feminine thing is just like that. I have the ability, I've developed it over the years. I can take charge of the situation, I can get it done. And then I need a nap.

I heard an interesting stat about the majority of divorces happen not for a lack of love but because of a lack of intimacy. Another recent stat: about 1/3 of American marriages are celibate. Somewhere we've confused our business partners with our intimate partners. A French man would never stand for that, a Greek man would never stand for that, even an Englishman would never stand for that. Here in America we seem to be more interested in equality than in passion. What's the point of having a marriage when a nanny is so much cheaper?

Run Away

1.00.07

6.142 miles in one hour and seven seconds.

It's 7:14 and I am just leaving Luke's, our local running store and heart of our running community. They host the Park City Morning Running Group on Wednesday mornings by sending in one of the staff to open up and grab a a box of bagels. The bagels slow us down long enough to for our eyes to linger on the latest high tech shoe or hip running garb. It wasn't too hot this morning and I do look forward to the bagels at the end. Today it's whole wheat with blue berry cream cheese. It's a short walk down the alley and the last bite of bagel goes to my sleepy dog who greets me as I come in the door.

At nine, Rebel doesn't run with me anymore. He nuzzled and whined to get me out of bed for the year after my break up. He was much more effective than the antidepressants that my doctor kept suggesting. Now I am paying him back by running on my own before we head out on our daily walk.

My running time is my time with god. My time when everything inside of me bounces around like a water bottle in the trunk of the car. I can hear the bottle rolling around every time I brake or turn and as I run I visualize the black gunkiness of yesterday’s thoughts rolling around inside of me, turning hard and brittle enough to shatter a little more with each stride of my run. Eventually all the black goo turns to glass and shatters into dust. As I exhale the last of my pain is breathed out. My insides are sparkly clean. The empty rice bowl is ready to be filled with today’s gifts.

This morning I was thinking about my weight. Last week Sherry noticed that I was looking slim - and I immediately gained 5 lbs. The sirens went off and red lights flashed a warning, someone had noticed me. As a kid, my grandmother used to dress me in loose "little house on the prairie" styleless garb to hide and protect me from my pedophile grandpa. Today it’s too hot to cover from throat to toe so instead I use the extra pounds to stay just under the radar. I feel safest when there is no blip on the screen, no audible evidence that I exist.

I feel safest when no one notices me. I feel loneliest when no one notices me.

What's a parent's greatest gift?

I have this beautiful man in Colorado. He is such an inspiration to me because today he is living his dream. He is a full time referee, on the field doing what he loves and traveling the states. The inspirational part to me is that he was an achiever, working the stress of corporate sales during the day and in a loveless marriage for 18 years because he didn't want to hurt his daughter. Like she wasn't already hurt by their relationship.

Kids are such a gift because they are so close to god. Their intuition is still intact and they pick up everything. They know the truth but we try to protect them by lying to them - which only makes them question and doubt their own knowing.

My beautiful man relayed this in an email: "doesn't work, the kids know, my daughter knew and expressed her knowledge when it became fact, that is, after I left she wasn't surprised . . . I actually regret not leaving earlier, it would have saved me a lot of angst, my concern for my daughter was misplaced, at least based on what she said."

What makes him an inspiration is his courage to walk through his deepest fears.

He thought he would lose the love of his wife and daughter. Truth was, his wife was relieved that he finally faced the truth. She had been anxiously expecting "the talk" for years and it was no surprise to his daughter, either. Instead of losing love it opened a space of truth and his connection to his daughter became better than ever. Today their dialogue is open and honest and he lights up as he gushes about her accomplishments in college.

Another amazing man from London was approached by his kids and asked why he didn't leave - and take them with him. They begged for him to leave her, which he finally did when the kids left the house. He was so battered about by then that he spent two years searching for himself and is now fully engaged in helping men step back into their manhood. He is fulfilling his dream.

Seems like we all have our darkness - where our worst fears are hidden - but when we finally shine the light on them and confront them - they vaporize like mist. Problem is, it takes so much courage to face my fears, I could have spent my whole life running from them not knowing that freedom and truth were just a millisecond away on the other side.

I was watching a program about a woman that was in a heterosexual marriage for 20 - something years. Somewhere along the way she realized she was gay. She and her husband worked to keep it together "for the kids" but finally surrendered. The kids were angry at first for not having their family intact until one day one of the daughters looked at her mother and realized that the lines in her face were no longer from stress but from smiling. In that moment, she forgave her mother. All she ever wanted was for her mother to be happy.

Could it be that the greatest gift we can give our kids is showing them how to be happy? Isn't it funny that as parents our greatest hope is for our kids to be happy and that their greatest hope is for us to be?

When one door closes ... I pound on it!

I live my life like a warrior. I put a goal in my head, put blinders on, and charge straight toward my goal. Like a bull charging a red cape, I am going to nail that red thing. I focus on it, snort my nose, stamp my feet and CHARGE. Only to have the Matador sweep the cape away just when I can smell the sweet scent of victory.

My goal can be anything, is often what I think I really want and often not what's best for me. It's often someone else's idea of what "should" make me happy - an aspiration few others have accomplished. An income, a man, a status, a title, or an address that others will envy. It's never something that's in my heart - always from my head - and it's never god's vision for my life. I have my own vision of what's going to get me love because I am so much smarter than god ever was. I'm gonna make it happen. I power through.

The price I pay for charging so hard is that, just like the bull that gets a dagger plunged into his neck, I pay dearly for each pass. I don't pay in blood, too often, but I do pay in broken friendships, a weakened trust in god's goodness, I miss the beautiful scenery along the way, physical wear and tear, long days and short nights, years of wasted trying to "be someone".

The funny thing is; powering through stuff rarely works. Ok, it works when I am itemizing expenses or finishing the last mile of my run but little else.

I do this visualization where I talk to god and most of what I hear from him these days is laughter, which is better than what I got in the past. In the past, when I would ask "when is my father was going to be the father that I want" I could hear the voice of Obi-Wan from Star Wars say "Denial is strong in this one". I hope that means my relationship with god is getting better.

These days, I don't run into the same closed door ... for as long as I used to. I find myself sitting dazed on the shiny hardwood floor in front of the door, fist sore from pounding. My reflex is to contemplate what I did wrong this time and how to do the same thing, only different enough to make it work this time but instead, I remind myself to take a deep breath.

As I breath deeply and wait for the stars circling my dazed head to stop, I breath into my heart. I visualize the breath going into and expanding my diligently pounding heart. I then watch as I breathe out and my heart contracts with the exhale. After doing this for a minute or two my brainwaves sync with my heart waves and my heart reminds me that there are other doors. I turn around and look down the long corridor behind me and realize that I have been charging past, not one, but two doors that are open a crack.

I have plenty of other options. Two that I never knew existed when I was scared and operating out of my head. My head tricks me. My head tells me that there is only one "right way" to do something and if I don't do it that way I won't be happy. My fear lives in my head. There is no fear in my heart. My heart holds only gentleness, love and laughter. The same laughter I hear when I talk to god these days.