In love, you get what you allow

Recently, I decided that I would say “Yes!” to any attraction for a man that I felt and see where it goes. In the past, I have had a habit of preparing a cost analysis in my head, imagining what the outcome might be and one way or another, finding a way to squelch whatever comes my way.

So the “Yes!” is a different strategy. There are all kinds of reasons I suppose—my youngest child is, at six-years-old, no longer a tiny baby, or maybe I’ve just been single long enough. My ex-husband is in another relationship and I may be over him once and for all. And to top it all off, it’s almost spring and the stirrings of new life and bountiful energy remind me how much I like kissing a man who I’m wild about.

After a recent test run at this new policy, I’ve realized that I’ve got another policy pretty firmly in place. I’ve got zero tolerance for being treated badly. So, today, on International Women’s day, I’m just saying out loud that if I’m saying “Yes!” to a man, he’s got to say “Yes!” right back to me to have it go anywhere.

I’ve been out of this game for awhile. And the transition from married with children to single mother of four kids (three still at home) hasn’t been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. But it’s been good. I like my kids, I like my life, and I’m surrounded by people I love and who love me. Lucky is what I am.

Well, I’m lucky and I’ve worked my ass off. I have paid attention and made changes and worked hard to create good things in my life, to take care of myself and the people I love and stuff that has to happen for my life to work. I’m all over it and it’s working.

So, shortly after stating this new commitment to “Yes!” an opportunity presented itself. I met a man at an event that we were both attending and we were attracted to each other. We spent some time together over a few days…having meals together, talking about our lives. It was fun. When it came time to part ways—he lives in another state—he reached out, put his hand around my neck, and pulled me close to him. And kissed me.

Oh. I like kissing men—how lovely that is. I might do more of it.

We said goodbye and that we’d be in touch. My “Yes!” plan was working pretty well. I was leaving the event and I texted him and we had a little text exchange, the same way we had for the past few days. I texted him that I might like to kiss him again.

And then the phone got cold. He didn’t respond to my text. There we were texting along and he suddenly disappears. No answer. I was puzzled.

Texting can be a weird thing. It’s not a phone call, where hanging up without saying anything would be obviously rude. And it’s not an email that you get to when you get to. Texting is somewhere in between. But here’s where I’m at: if we’re in the middle of a texting conversation and I say I want to kiss you again, you don’t just drop the conversation. Unless you’re dead. If you’re dead, then I get it.

Truly, the only thing that I could imagine that would make dropping this conversation so abruptly okay is something like the man was reading my text about me kissing him and that he wandered happily into the street and got hit by a car and ended up in the hospital. And then he would apologize for dropping me like that.

But that’s not what happened. What happened is that I didn’t hear from him for another twenty-four hours. The next night, he texts and says that he’d been thinking about me all day, despite being back in his busy life.  Yeah, okay. I texted him back agreeing that life sure is busy. 

He’s reached out a couple times since then and I’ve been friendly, but uninterested. I'm not angry and I don't regret this thing, I'm just not interested.

Because a man is either going to be crazy about me and act like it or…not.

I told a dear friend of mine about my newly-discovered “policy" and initially, he laughed.

“You have a zero tolerance policy?” he said incredulously.

He figured that I wouldn’t get very far on my “Yes!” plan or my plan for kissing more men with such a policy.

Until I explained it to him. Basically, I realize that I have no more room in my life to be treated badly. And especially by a man. My dad is dead now, and it’s not speaking badly of the dead to say that the guy treated me like dirt. He may have valued me in some way, and I know he loved me and I’m pretty sure there might have been something in the past 45 years that he was proud of about me. But I wouldn’t have any way of knowing it based on his behavior.

And for a long time, I was looking for him to show me something better. And then I did the typical thing of looking for it in other men who didn’t know how to treat me well. Back then, I explained the bad treatment away and made the best of it. The deal is that I can understand why people behave badly--I have a lot of compassion for what makes us behave badly. That used to be enough for me to allow a man to not tend to me when I’m sick, to show up late or not at all, to say one thing and do another, to make commitments to me and blow them and me off.  

I have explained and allowed bad behavior from men because I understand that under the bad behavior, there’s a great guy in there. Basta!

I’m ready to have a great guy living fully and out loud. Over the past decade, I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t matter why someone can’t meet me half way or all the way, he still can’t or won’t. And if I allow it, then that’s what I get: halfway.

These days, I have all kinds of men in my life who treat me well, who care about me, who see and respect me. Men who call me and see how I’m doing. Men who, when I was injured and couldn’t move, sat with me and read me poems and made me fruit salad and ate nachos and brownies with me. Men who come and help me push my car out of the driveway so we can jumpstart it in the street. Men who leave me licorice surprises and chocolate bars on my desk. Men who send me flowers and men who fix the gutters on my house. Men who pore over words with me and create good stuff to read. Men who raise money to help me buy a car when mine is stolen. Men who plot and scheme business plans with me. Men who hold me up when I need holding. Men who love me out loud and all the way.

I’m a lucky woman.

These men are my friends, my family, and my community. There isn’t a lover among them and I won’t be kissing these guys.

So what about that man? Yeah, where is he? I don’t know where he is, but I know this: He’s going to be open-hearted, expressive, and crazy about me. I’m not going to be guessing about where he stands—it will be abundantly evident.

And I’ll love kissing him and when I say I want to kiss him, he will happily respond unless he is hit by a car or is, in some other way, dead.

Until then, life is good and I’m patient. But it is getting to be about springtime.