Maggie West

Sex and Love ~ Part Two

To continue with the analogy "a hall of ugly mirrors," I first saw the ugliness in my reflection as a child. Although my parents continually counseled me on good and evil, the latter seemed more enjoyable. And in our family of six children, I experimented with iniquity. Therefore, the image staring back at me was rather hideous then.

As a child, I wasn't anything to write home about: Horned-rimmed glasses, scrawny physique, and a hideous haircut. Due to these attributes, other kids often picked on, and bullied me. Therefore, any chance I had to do likewise seemed like a gift from heaven. And my siblings were the likely targets.

There was my older sister who primped for hours in front of our only bathroom mirror. With six children in the family and two adults, I thought this rather excessive. Back then, I frequently directed my malice toward her. But I also had an older brother who purposefully ignored me until it was time to deflect blame in another direction. He deserved some retribution, I thought. The two younger girls were simply irritating. They incessantly whined to, and needled the closest family member about one thing or another. Neither did they allow an opportunity to pat themselves on the back go by. It was sickening. I picked on them as a matter of principle. No one should take the easy road without falling into a few cracks. It's a theory of mine.

Lastly, my youngest brother and I seldom crossed paths. As he wasn't on my radar often enough to justify any ill will, I exempted him from my "singling out" period and hurtful behavior.

I explained all this away as childishness. After all, I was a child.

My mother, on the other hand, saw it for what is was: Negative behavior in the making. And she never let any of it slide without a few stern words of wisdom. Oh, she never yelled or screamed, mind you. It wasn't in her nature. She would simply sit me down and explain -- in detail -- why my malevolence, aimed at my brothers and sisters, was immoral. Her loving demeanor touched my heart every time. I felt awful many times over.

What does all this have to do with amorous relationships, one might ask?

Well…

Our childhoods influence our adult identities. How we relate to friends, loved ones, associates, and even strangers are -- in part -- molded by the proper, or improper, guidance we receive during these fundamental years.

My mother made me see things beyond the minute scope of a ten year old. But not everyone is that fortunate. This I know. I often hear of those whom have had abusive parents or none at all. But are they excused later in life -- as adults -- for not being able to distinguish what is good, righteous, and true from what is bad, evil, and wrong?

As simple as it sounds, shouldn't we treat others as we wish to be treated?

Does the abused child not know that abuse is wrong -- in any form? Does the selfish individual not know that taking and never giving is wrong?

A few more examples…

Does a robber want to be robbed? Does a liar like to be lied to? Does a cheater enjoy being cheated on? The answer to all these questions is the same. And barring any neuroses, the average Joes and Janes know what it is.

In relationships, it is the same. Does the yelling wife like to be yelled at? Does the lazy husband want a sloth for a wife? Does the overbearing boyfriend want a domineering girlfriend? And so on. Interchange the above when needed.

The lessons of respect, honor, truthfulness, and righteousness are ubiquitous. But we must seek them out. They do not come calling for us.

Furthermore, we're not omniscient. We all need proper guidance at some time or another; in some form or another. If we do not find in one place, then it is our duty as part of the human race to explore, investigate, and discover it elsewhere.

How long can we gaze at our reflections and see the injustice we do ourselves and others when we ignore our shortcomings, immorality, dishonesty, and decadence? When will we finally see that the person who needs to change is staring back?

Sex and Love ~ Part One

Are sex and love two human frailties that cannot be mastered or conquered? I believe the answer is "yes." If we convince ourselves otherwise, we may find our lives full of nothing but disenchantment and frustration.

Long before Shakespeare wrote Romeo and Juliet, people confronted the humanness of carnal and romantic attraction. Both are as old as the species itself.

Couples may think they have unique situations; but the truth is that someone, somewhere, had/has/will have comparable and even worse quandaries and shortcomings when their lives involve the mysteries of love and sex. Hell, there's also better and best. Don't forget those.

I couldn't help but wonder, however -- when I received the following comment from a young man who'd read my last relationship post -- if we heed too much of the incorrect and immoral information and not enough of the proper instruction on both: "I read [your] three articles. They seem basically sound, however, one thing stuck in my mind regarding context. The commercialization of Sex and Love has made it a hall of ugly mirrors that we have to get through somehow."

I enjoyed the phrase "a hall of ugly mirrors" so much; it compelled me to begin another series entitled Sex and Love. I couldn't allow the opportunity to discuss the commercialization of anything pass me by.

Upon reading the young man's remark, I thought of the medieval image of an angel perched on one shoulder and a devil on the other. This parallel to the human condition is in numerous writings. It was even utilized for commercials at one time.

Put simply, each of us has the capacity for good or evil. Whichever we nurture dominates and becomes habit. Unfortunately, though, an overwhelming amount of corrupt and improper behavior lights up movie and television screens and fills the pages of books, magazines, and newspapers. And it saddens me to say that even radio jumped on the propaganda bandwagon decades ago.

So when we mimic the latest sitcom scenario in real life or emulate the newest romance novel, do we really expect life to imitate art? Perhaps as children or young adults, we did. Common sense, however, should kick in as we begin our walk through the mirrored hall called adulthood.

Believe me; I've seen quite a few ugly images staring back at me from those funhouse mirrors. And they frightened me to the brink of insanity on a few occasions. Admittedly, my life was one hard lesson after another. This did not in the least deter me from becoming the person I wanted to be or living on my own terms. There are numerous reasons for my being who I am and where I am today: Living a simple existence; with someone I admire, respect, and love; and more content than I ever dreamed possible.

Most importantly, I didn't succumb to peer pressure or propaganda. I had a solid foundation to work with and an inexhaustible supply of support. Moreover; although I haven't always thought so, I know that I've been blessed beyond measure.

Follow me, then, down this hall of ugly mirrors that we must all travel. Allow me to light some of the way with brutal honesty and hard-earned morality. Understand that I am no saint. It took me a long time to find my way out. Hopefully, though, my insight will ease the reflections of inability and failure.

 

Email Maggie at maggietwest@aim.com

When is it Love ~ Part Three

Is it any wonder that men and women alike ask the question "When is it Love?" Today, couples separate at an alarming rate -- married or not.

A little over a century ago -- which isn't very long in my opinion; my Indian ancestors have been on this continent for approximately 20,000 years -- a man not only had to win the affections of a woman, but her family's, as well. There was a designated courting period, and most would not endure this tedious process without committing heart and soul and everything in between. What we call "being in love" today was so much more then.

In those days, the majority of the population frowned upon separation; whether it took place during a courtship or later, it was socially unacceptable. In this day and age, the person that we "love" (deliberately placed in quotes) changes as frequently as we buy new furniture. The age-old adage "Out with the old and in with the new" has permeated everything we think, do, and say. That's not to say that there weren't ne'er do wells in those days. There were. But they were scorned, noted as such, and run out of town on a rail.

Back then, a handshake was an irrevocable contract; one's word was his or her bond. Additionally, one's family name and reputation were of the utmost importance: Comprising either blackballed the transgressor personally and professionally. We learned values, principles, and morals, and upheld them to the nth degree. Unions between a men and women were part of this vast and intricate equation.

Unfortunately, today, we learn most lessons from television, radio, our parents and peers. Due to a number of causes, none of these have the answers we seek. One, husbands and wives must both work in order to make a decent living. The time allotted for the coaching and counseling with respect to the lessons of the past is minimal at best. Secondly, fewer than two dozen people own all the media in the United States. Additionally, if one counts their relatives and friends, the numbers remain constant. What better way to present one's personal views as the norm, or even dictate social mores than owning all forms of media? There are more but for the sake of brevity, I'll stop here.

Ergo, the aforementioned do not possess the formula for the proverbial side-by-side rockers on the front porch watching Life's sunset. A stark reality, I know. But, let's face it, we live in a me-oriented society. Without proper guidance, the path of least resistance is the one we'll take every time.

Consequently, let me answer the question posed in When is it Love ~ Part One and When is it Love ~ Part Two: "When will [you] know that it's really love?"

I believe that true love exists. I believe it exists somewhere in between fortitude and commitment; good morals and great standards; and, for good measure, one should mix in a "dash" of compassion, patience, and sincerity. From numerous surveys, I also know that different levels of love exist even in amorous relationships. Each one is a step forward to the next. But if the connection is completely severed at any step, we must go back and start anew.

Understand, by starting over, we trade one set of problems for another. No two people are alike, but we all come with some baggage. A brand new set may seem better, but all get worn and tarnished over time.

C. S. Lewis stated that "[People think] in terms of good and bad, not good, better, and best, or bad, worse and worst." And I must agree. As we stand on the threshold of good and bad in a relationship; we rarely see the better and best on our current course, and the worse or worst that lies in the other.

Last, but certainly not least, love is earned. It is not free for the taking, or giving. It is hard work, disciplined behavior, respect, and constant awareness. It takes time and energy.

I have often heard Andrew Carnegie's quote spoken: "Anything in life worth having is worth working for." But never has it rung so true as when it pertains to love -- the "until death do us part" kind.

So, when is it love?

It is felt long after that first kiss. We find it miles away from the first shared apartment or home. There's no mistaking it, however. It surpasses any and all loves before it. It shines brightest in the faces of those who have it and speak of it often.

It is a wonder to behold and unmistakably extraordinary.

And I'm certain that when we find it, it will not be necessary to pose the question.

 

Email Maggie at maggietwest@aim.com

 

In searching for additonal true love stories, I came across a syndicated article in The Chicago Tribune. It's definitely worth a read or even two.

When is it Love ~ Part Two

Let's go back to the original question "When will I know that it's really love?" mentioned in Part One.

This question, oddly enough, brings another to mind: How does one define "love?" Does he or she mean "being in love": The sparks and fireworks that go off in the beginning of any relationship? Or, by chance, does he or she mean the more reserved, calmer sense of the word that many have found after the fire settles to ashes.

Some may be taken aback by my last statement. Ashes? Shouldn't the explosions of passion and flashes of romance remain in a relationship forever? Many couples, married 40 plus years, told me that in order for "love" -- real love -- to develop, the "being in love" stage must dissipate. And they're not alone in this belief.

As an example: it's rather exciting when we learn how to drive, in our teens. One might say it's even exhilarating. After years of getting behind the wheel, it no longer has that same "feel/appeal" to it. Does this mean we stop driving? No. Does this mean we get better at maneuvering through treacherous traffic? Hopefully; but not always. Wouldn't it be rather exhausting if each time, for the rest of our lives, we felt the same way when putting our keys in the ignition? Not to mention that as a teen, I made a million and one mistakes due to these so-called thrills. At any rate, one thing's certain, our enthusiasm for the act did die -- it's gone. Moreover, it doesn't return.

C.S. Lewis -- yes, the same C.S. Lewis who wrote The Chronicles of Narnia, The Space Trilogy, and The Screwtape Letters -- was, among a list of other things, a Christian apologist and opined that "Knowledge can last, principles can last, habits can last; but feelings come and go. And in fact, whatever people say, the state called 'being in love' usually does not last. If the old fairy-tale ending 'They lived happily ever after' is taken to mean 'They felt for the next fifty years exactly as they felt the day before they were married', then it says what probably never was or ever would be true, and would be highly undesirable if it were. Who could bear to live in that excitement for even five years? What would become of your work, your appetite, your sleep, your friendships?"

Now, let us return to Sternberg's "Love Triangle Made for Two" mentioned in Part One. The first year "shows a high degree of passion." By the fifth year, "intimacy has become the dominant theme." He ends with the tenth year of relationships where "commitment is the strongest bond." My argument is that if this research holds true, as time marches on and we strive to improve our amorous unions, commitment should eventually take over. At some point the triangle ceases to exist: Passion and intimacy are redirected. In its place another more wondrous formation develops -- the truest of all loves. It is uniquely shaped; one that very few witness today. This is when, to my mind, the previous love dies and a new -- more genuine -- love is born. The individuals who made the journey together thus far receive immeasurable tolerance from one another: Defined as "a great capacity for or practice of allowing or respecting the nature, beliefs, or behavior of others" by The American Heritage Dictionary © 1969.

With this love a couple experiences vast contentment, trustworthiness and promise. "It is not merely a feeling," as Lewis puts it. "It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by (in Christian marriages) the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God. They can have this love for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. They can retain this love even when each would easily, if they allow themselves, be 'in love' with someone else. Being in love first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. It is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it."

Isn't this love -- "this quieter love" -- the one we all strive for? If not, shouldn't it be? I believe so, and I work very hard at achieving this goal.

Most importantly, however, Lewis adds "let the thrill [being in love] go -- let it die away -- go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow -- and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time." He goes on to insightfully warn us that if we "decide to make [the being in love] thrills a regular diet and try to prolong them artificially, they will all get weaker and weaker, and fewer and fewer, and [we] will be bored disillusioned old men [and women] for the rest of our lives."

Personally, I chalk up falsely extending the "being in love" state to simple human nature. Most of us put less and less energy into something that keeps us in such an elevated state for extended periods of time. Ah, but this is a topic for another day.

So then, after reading this piece, shouldn't we first ask ourselves, and our partners, "How do I/you define love?" before we can answer "How will I know when it's really love?"

Just a thought.

E-mail Maggie at maggietwest@aim.com

For more on "being in love" read this aritcle "Love? Or Being in Love?" There are some great points made.

When is it Love ~ Part One

"Tell me the truth," I heard an acquaintance say.

Experience, however, taught me that rarely does anyone want the truth. Instead, they search for someone who will substantiate their truths; their beliefs, and that rarely happens when I'm on the answering end these days.

I've become rather blunt in my old age. More often than not, through the years, when people weren't sincere with respect to the advice given me; the outcome of my relationship quandary was rather dismal at best. Therefore, I don't sugar coat anything. As a result, I often find myself in front of seething individuals who didn't like what they heard -- what I said. "So much for being frank," one might say. On the contrary, I'm rather pleased with the person I see in the mirror today.

With that in mind, my response to the question asked "When will I know that it's really love?" will involve several installments. The first of which is the following…

Before I give my answer, a wonderful piece of literature entitled "Positive Living and Health," by Mark Bricklin, Mark Golin, Deborah Grandinetti, and Alexis Lieberman, merits a mention. It is a veritable treasure trove of ideas on how to empower one's constructive and encouraging thoughts and actions. Its pages are a cornucopia of information regarding the philosophy on positive living. A Love Triangle Made for Two, one of its chapters, includes a theory developed by Dr. Robert J. Sternberg. His "claim to fame" is being the professor of psychology and education at Yale University. Within this chapter, he "not only offers a way to constructively examine relationships," as the book notes, "[he] actually gives love a shape."

Dr. Sternberg suggests that you "picture love as a triangle" with three sides: Intimacy, passion, and commitment. Intimacy represents "support, communication, warmth, and sharing." Passion is "a motivational force that leads to arousal, physical excitement, and the desire to be united with the loved one." Commitment is "where a decision to love another person and maintain that love is made."

These three sides vary in length (dominance) as a relationship progresses. This means that one may outweigh the rest, or may diminish over time. Though the shape of everyone's triangle may differ, one thing is rather clear: In the beginning stages of this emotional bond we call love; passion seems to rule the roost. And it crows the loudest for quite some time.

How long this stage lasts is different from relationship to relationship. Soon, if we're lucky, the triangle begins to even out and all three sides represent a perfect harmony of sorts. But as we all know, relationships are far from perfect. Therefore, plan on it being isosceles or obtuse in shape.

Due in part to Dr. Sternberg's research, I reached a few conclusions of my own. One of them is that love, real love, unequivocally waits for the commitment side of our triangles to strengthen (increase in size). Without the decision to love our partners no matter who they are and what they do, and maintain this love (work at it) for years to come, how can any of us use the word "love" to describe how we feel? Before we make the conscious decision to stick with it under any circumstances, isn't what we feel simply lust, covetousness, or infatuation?

Love and commitment go hand-in-hand as far as I'm concerned. You cannot have one without the other.

Shall we draw our triangles then? Don't be surprised if two people who claim to be in love have varying triangles. It happens way too often. The real truth begins, in my humble opinion, when we communicate these variances to one another.

Then, dear reader, you "tell me the truth."

NOTE: Respond in the comment section below this article or e-mail Maggie at maggietwest@aim.com

For more on Dr. Sternberg's theory visit Kristine Keller, M.A. who writes for Psychology Today. Her article entitled "Crazy in Love: When is it More Than Heartache?" is a must read.

Black and White Equals Gray

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

How many of us heard this expression and thought "What a crock of shit?" I know I did, many times, many years ago.

But I was young, foolish, and looked like the ass end of a horse in those days. My main concern was being attractive. So, I put certain behaviors on a shelf along with all my parents' teachings a long time ago. To my mind, men/boys didn't care about actions, only what I looked like in a skirt. That was enough to alter me for years to come.

That was the beginning of an ending I wrote into my life: "Hindsight is 20/20" they say. Had I remained the person my mother and father nurtured, the pages of my life may have been written differently. But I didn't.

Even as an adult—even in my thirties—my behavior was questionable. To be sure, part of me was a good person; a good friend. But the other half was ambitious, conniving, deceptive, and wild. But I was visibly attractive—somewhat at any rate.

This other half guided me into a relationship I thought would last forever. It lasted a mere fourteen years. And in those fourteen years, I did things that I truly regret (that I'm truly ashamed of). Things that I thought would keep my relationship intact. Things I thought my ex-husband wanted—needed—me to do. In those days, I became someone I thought he needed me to be. But as I said, I wrote our ending years before when I exchanged the better person of my youth for the lemon into which I developed. This souring only attracted people of the same nature. So my pugnacity grew. The moral and proper behaviors instilled in me as a child vanished. We squeezed each other dry until only bitter memories remained.

It took me two years to realize what I had done. I blamed my ex in the beginning. But he was what he was.

I couldn't change that. I could, however, change myself.

Of course, change—any change—is not a quick process. With the help of good friends, my mother, and my children, however, the old me resurfaced. Just a little at first, and then I meet Jeff through author Barry Eisler on March 6, 2007. The rest is now history.

Before continuing, I must state that Jeff was a godsend: We grew close rather quickly. And to this day, the reason for this escapes me. I only know that on that fateful day I found the answer to my prayers.

Of this man, I say this: His years on this earth, regardless of what transpired, molded the exemplary person who now stands at my side. He's honest, kind, and forthright and as different from the men of my past as night and day. His integrity took me by the hand two and a half years ago and has not let go since. I am a better person, in part, because of him.

At first, I was afraid to mention my past—to mention my recklessness—to this mountain of a man. But I finally did. To which he inquired, "What did you feel like when you did those things?"

Never, and I mean never, had anyone ever asked this question. Simply the asking lit the proverbial light bulb in my head. I hadn't liked it—I hadn't liked me. Perhaps this assisted my "change?" The person I could be proud of was there all along.

Therefore, when I read my e-mails from men or women who mention their negative behaviors, I cringe. Through e-mails I cannot identify these people as having good natures. Hell, I didn't see my own for many years.

Hence, if we do things we regret, we should ask ourselves Jeff's question. If we hate ourselves for what we do, then nurture those feelings: not the amoral ones. If, however, we feel no remorse, then we are a horse of a different color and my advice may not be that which my readers seek.

The idiom, "A tiger doesn't change his stripes" comes to mind. I'm not one to judge though. How could I? My past is as checkered as the next guy's. I simply learn from my mistakes and hopefully redirect others to a better path.

I do, however, know that inner beauty lights our way.

If we cannot discern black from white; right from wrong, then the grays become even harder. As Jeff says, "Never forget that gray is a mixture of black and white." And since life is chock-full of all three it may behoove us to figure out which is which. Or one can take my mother's advice: "Treat others as you wish to be treated." But if all else fails, my father's counsel was pretty damned good as well: "If someone jumped off a cliff would you?"

For the sake of illustration: It's easy to nag simply for the sake of nagging, right? But what if the amount of nagging, or measuring one person's nagging against another's is the issue? My mom does it; my friends do it; no big deal then. These are grays—are they not?

No, not really. To nag is to pester or annoy; to torment with anxiety; to scold, complain, or find fault constantly. Therefore, any amount of it is harmful in any relationship.

What's important is how we live our lives; how we treat others.

We should all stop and take a long hard look, every now and then, at whom we've become; or at the very least, the fallout we create by our actions. We must know that external beauty is limited. At some point, we all face the aging process. But our ethics and morals remain intact until the day of our death. So, which benefits us most?

My guess: the inside. The outside takes care of itself.

At the age of fifty-two, my looks aren't anything to write home about. But in my mind I'm the catch of the century for retaining the principles I learned at an early age. I'd like to think that Jeff saw these things in me on the day we met, or soon thereafter.

No one's life is a bed of roses. But creating a stench that permeates our futures isn't conducive to happiness either. My father used to say, "Bullshit works for a while, but eventually people know you for who you really are, and you're left with an ugly stain that no amount of soap will wash off." He was right.

Hence, when next we hear "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," remember our physical appearance deteriorates with time, but our inner beauty does not and it is what attracts people most in the long run—for the long haul. It may stay hidden for a while, as mine did, but eventually it'll crawl from the dunghill under which we buried it, brush itself off, and surprise us.

No shit.

I Can’t Win!

Women are curious creatures.

Not curious in that we eagerly seek out knowledge or information—though we can be and are under most non-relationship circumstances—but in the Alice in Wonderland sense of the word: "Curiouser and curiouser..." When we argue or carry-on certain conversations with our significant others, however, we lose all reason and common sense.

Myself included (though not as much today as in my youth).

Why does this happen? Is it a genetic defect? Did our mothers somehow nurture it into our makeup?

I consider myself a person who solves most situations with a measure of intelligence and a mound of common sense. (More of the latter of course, but I've been blessed with ample amounts of both.) And I've made the acquaintance of many women who do the same. But in our intimate relationships, we drop "bombs," often losing all rational thought as we explode with emotion. Plainly put, we throw the baby out with the bath water. And, perhaps, most women regret these blasts later as I do.

Nevertheless, when "TC" began with "I can't win," I intuitively knew the source of his frustration—a woman.

I'd heard the same words spoken by numerous men in the past. And after the telling of each, the men referred to the women in their lives. With contorted features and clenched teeth, they explained their annoyances and/or previous grievances. It was not uncommon to hear these men sob, rave, or maniacally laugh; or see them tug their hair, stomp the floor, or slam their fists into the nearest target.

But that's not all…

At some point in each conversation, they generally turned to everything women did—since grade school—that drove them ape-shit. And being a woman, I scanned the check list of my own actions in my head as they spoke: Yep, I've done that. Uh-oh! That one, too. Hmmm…there's another. Damn! I do the same shit.

Afterwards, I'm shot the bulging-eyed "why?" expressions as these men rattle off a thousand questions. Okay, maybe not a thousand—but close to it.

"Why does she irritate me so?"
"Why can't she just stop?"
"Why does she always bring ____ into it?"

Why this…why that…why…why…why

And TC was no different.

After explaining that he frequently leaves the house in order to end arguments with his wife, he asked me "Why does my wife become just as angry when I agree with her as when I disagree?"

"I can't win Maggie."

First, most men resort to "fight or flight" when confronted. Their hemispheric orientation, dominant representational systems, and endocrine systems are very different from ours.

Second, when men walk away it means they're disengaging. Their left-brains have temporarily overridden their "lizard brains." It means they're physically and emotionally ready to "lay it all on the line"—but they've seen "the big picture." They decide to disengage rather than cave in to biology and employ that ever-present mega-dose of adrenaline and testosterone.

I should note that women must refrain from following their men as they uncouple: Especially if our intent is continuing the argument. This harms more than it heals.

On the other hand, women want men to pursue them once they leave the room during disputes. This action—to their minds—shows affection, caring, and compassion. They feel wanted and needed—important.

It boggles the mind. Doesn't it?

Naturally, hearing these things relieved TC (Something with which to confront the wife at a later time—no doubt).

Then, in his wife's defense, I began relaying reasons this could occur: If women become accustomed to a routine of clashing with their mates and suddenly hear "yes, dear," it sounds sarcastic. And if men employ the phrase after each sentence, then it surely is mockery. These two little words, however, used properly, do wonders for settling the many disputes of couples married for forty-plus years.

So, when's the appropriate time to use the "yes dear" response?

I don't know. I'm a woman.

And women move in seemingly unpredictable patterns. One minute everything is right with the world, and the next, it's gone mad. Is there such a thing as reasoning during moments such as these? Not in my mind—but again, I'm a woman.

Perhaps with many years under their belts, certain couples recognize these quarrels as minor. Perhaps the men and women in successful relationships realize which issues are important and which are not. As I've said one or two times before; knowing when to let go and when to stand and fight is vital for long-term "bliss."

So, who gives in first?

Does it matter? Ultimately, will giving in mar or damage us in any way? If both parties aren't in it for the "long haul," it might. Otherwise, it doesn't.

When, then, should we stop trying; when do we give up?

We shouldn't, in my book…

Most women react in the same manner under similar circumstances. Why begin this crazed cycle anew? Why put ourselves through other relationships with the misguided notion that "things will be different the next time?" The odds are; they won't.

I spent many years in the school of I'm-right-you're-wrong. And graduating from this rut seemed impossible until I realized that the problem was me.

Today, my humor and past experiences keep me sane (if you want to call it that) in this insane world. I am content with my life—with my love.

I know I'm crazy. I admit it. Adjectives applied to my behavior range from "peculiar" to "psychotic." And that's not news to me. I'm never shocked to hear this validated. I simply agree.

I'm certain I irritate Bean more often than not. He most assuredly thinks that I traveled here from some distant planet (and in all fairness, others have said the same of him…) And I'm just as certain that he blows off most of the steam created by my way of thinking when I'm not around. Otherwise, I'd see more meltdowns.

What a great partner, huh?

When he says "yes dear," it's a big accomplishment for him; whether or not he says it sarcastically (I add this only because tact isn't his strong suit). Regardless of his intent, I accept it as an affectionate term. Of course, my imagination is in overdrive most of the time—it helps.

When he walks away from an argument, I know he'll be back to take up his sword and duel with me again. I look forward to it, actually—another demented response, I'm sure.

But I know Bean loves me. And I make sure he knows I love him—no matter what circumstances befall us.

That's enough for me.

That's enough for him.

Is it enough for you?

Perhaps if more women recognized their imbalanced, subjective attached nature—and men their imbalanced, objective, detached nature—relationships would last longer. If nothing else, the number of arguments would surely decrease. Right?

Hell, I don't think women understand men any more than men understand women.

But, yet again, I'm a woman.

So ladies, repeat after me: "I'm crazy, and I admit it."

A Great Catch (or Two)

Some women have all the luck...

We spend our lives looking for that one pearl in a sea of murky water and mucky sand. And these days, the right conditions in which to shape this proverbial treasure do not exist (in my opinion), which makes it practically impossible. But there are women with such riches. I consider myself one of them.

The treasure of which I speak is a good man.

The most cherished possession for nearly all women is a good man by their side. But how do we know if we have such men? What reveals their inherent natures to us?

My answer: Time.

Most men start out as rowdy little boys who later turn into rebellious teens. As they grow into men, the nurtured aspects of their character mingled with a number of external forces shape who they become.

A few hints: Do they face most sticky situations head-on with good judgment and moral principles? Are they respected by others? Who are their friends? Do they still associate with childhood friends (There's a wealth of information to be had from this one)? What are their parents like?

Of course, the answers to these questions aren't fool-proof; but they help. They are but a few signposts that guide us to the man our men are, and only Time shows us the rest.

Regrettably, today most relationships end before men mature into the well-rounded, ripened, colorful apples of our eyes. Metaphorically speaking, we take one or two bites and throw them away.

What a shame.

Moreover, numerous years of marital "bliss" also shape certain aspects of their character. If women (and men too) put more time and effort into their relationships, the men of which dreams are made may ultimately grow.

But don't lose hope ladies. They're not extinct yet. Magnificent men are out there.

I saw one today: Mark.

I've known Mark for a little over two years—since I moved to Georgia. I'd like to think that in that time we've become somewhat friends. Granted, I only see him when my truck breaks down. But lately, that's been quite often.

This morning, I dropped off my little red wagon for service again. My darling husband (and I) overslept and he couldn't drive me to the garage as planned. So, I went solo. And it was raining. Upon arriving, I told Mark "I'll just walk home." We discussed the enjoyment of walking in the rain for a spell, and afterward he said, "I'll take you home."

Ah, the mark of a true gentleman.

As he drove me home in the rain, he mentions the significance of today's date.

"Today is the anniversary of losing my virginity."

Wow!

Now, I realize that most of us probably recall the specific details of such a thing. But how many can purport knowing the exact date? Not many, I suspect.

During our conversation, I also found out that he married this first love of his and brought two children into the world. Alas, though, a few years later, he was divorced.

"To this day, she doesn't believe she was my first," Mark said.

I've never heard anyone mention the date of such a thing (Other than my husband, of course. He remembers most things.), and I've discussed it with innumerable men. In my book, this makes Mark an exceptional person. The fact that he remembers the precise day in which this happened merits an A+.

I believe him.

And if the man he's become doesn't prove some of the aforementioned points I made, I guess nothing does. He is kind, good natured, and honest among other things.

There is no doubt in my mind that as a young man Mark was incorrigible—most men are in their twenties. But today, he is a good man—a great catch.

Too bad this isn't a dating site.

Hmmm…perhaps, if one lives in the Roswell, Georgia area; she could…

Aw, never mind.

At any rate, I'm amazed at the things that trigger certain emotional responses and memories—especially mine. For after seeing Mark this morning, I, once again, made note of how truly blessed I am for finding my Jeff: A pearl that may be a little bumpy still (smiling), but a true treasure nonetheless.

Thanks Mark.

Damn! I'm lucky.

Friends or Lovers

I can count on my one hand the number of great friendships I have. Conversely, the bad friendships I've had in the past are innumerable.

There are many big, bad wolves with ulterior motives in this big, bad world, and they rarely have one's best interests at heart. While searching for the needle in the haystack—real friendships—we are wounded by the many pricks (No pun intended) hidden in the heap. The likelihood that everyone we meet will become a lifelong friend is slim to none.

For this reason, when I receive e-mails that pertain to the camaraderie—the closeness—between two people who are not sexually involved, I'm cautious when answering. I prefer discussing these matters in person, and that is rarely possible. Especially when the internet and e-mail are our communication tools—shit! It's frustrating. There are many inquiries to make; many of the social interactions, between the two people in question, or the lack thereof, to discuss. Nevertheless, from time to time, I proceed without them.

As I do today…

"Paula" and "Paul" have been friends for almost three years. In her e-mail, Paula wrote: We were together every day; either before work or after; even during work hours, we texted each other regularly.

Neither Paula nor Paul was enamored of anyone at the time—let alone each other. Perhaps this is why they became close—very close. Unfortunately, such closeness alters many friendships. And Paula's situation is a perfect example.

Her feelings began to shift gears roughly one year ago. And her attempts to steer her heart away from these new emotions were useless. She also feared that declaring her love for Paul would surely end their friendship. And so, she remained silent.

Until six months ago…

During movie-night at Paul's apartment, after consuming too much alcohol, they made love. And afterward, she confessed her feelings for him and her torment in concealing them for twelve months.

Since then, their friendship has changed. But it's not the change for which Paula yearned. He now rarely calls. She rarely sees him. And she's filled with regret.

Therefore, she asks for a way in which to regain the friendship she once had. "I want to take back what I said" is one of the lines in her e-mail that leapt from the page.

And of this I must say: My dear Paula; what was said was said. You cannot go back—no one can. You can only go forward. Perhaps, this is not exactly what you wanted to hear. And telling you that you are not alone may not relieve the pain in your heart either. But it's true.

We all make mistakes. Unfortunately, there are times when we don't see them as blunders until we take the proverbial move in one direction or the other. And then, it's too late.

Friendship volleying (A term I use to describe such situations), however, can land on either side of the net. Many great loves began as friendships. But know that these attempts to win the game result in heartache as well.

Once we make a poor choice, we must move forward. Other alternatives present themselves and how to proceed is an individual decision. Suspending or minimizing any interaction for a spell in the hopes of remedying the situation, ending the friendship, or piecing it back together are all options.

Paula chose the latter.

And it will take time, much effort, and a good deal of patience. Even then, there's no guarantee the outcome will be a positive one. Therefore, before proceeding, Paula must accept the possibility of rejection.

Even if she isn't rejected, the friendship will not return to its original condition. But, a new friendship may develop that parallels the first and in some cases the second exceeds the previous one's strength: A stronger, more solid, friendship is established.

Don't lose hope…

But there is work to do.

First, admit your mistake. Do not excuse your behavior away by saying, "I was drunk." You were aware of your feelings; you put yourself and him in an awkward position—so come clean.

Do this regardless of who is initiating contact. Your e-mail states that you rarely see him; he hardly ever calls. Whether you approached him or he approached you; whether you called him first or he called you, makes no difference. Begin by making a clean break of things: Take responsibility.

Once you do, explain the value of his friendship and your willingness to make amends. Tell Paul that losing his friendship cut you deeply. Then, ask him how to proceed.

His suggestions will be ones with which he feels comfortable. And of all the successful attempts of which I've heard this is the best pattern to follow. Remember, it will take time.

As I said in the beginning of this piece, however, great friendships—lifelong friends—are hard to find. But, they are well worth the effort.

Alone And Pregnant

My recent e-mails beg the question: Do we even know why sex exists?

Let us begin by reading the definition from The American Heritage Dictionary New College Edition:

Sex - The property or quality by which organisms are classified according to their reproductive functions. The sexual urge or instinct as it manifests itself in behavior.

Sexual - Pertaining to or designating reproduction involving the union of male and female gametes.

Hopefully, these definitions will assist me with my answer to one of the messages I received from a young woman in her early twenties.

But first, allow me to digress for a moment or two…

Regrettably, the definitions of numerous words are so readily altered these days that one wonders why we bother putting them to paper at all. We interpret them as we choose; ignoring their original meanings.

If we compare today's dictionaries with those printed a mere thirty years ago, we see the capricious manner in which countless words are in vogued to the "point of no return." In other words, their meanings are lost in the latest fads, new slang, and popular rhetoric—never to be used properly in a sentence again. And then, we ultimately disregard the correct definitions.

Hell, many words are completely omitted from current dictionary editions and a large number of them aren't even recognized by a computer's spell check. One may find this rather comical—not I. It's a sign of the times: A sign of the ignorance plaguing our society.

In keeping with my original thought, though, today the word sex means a pleasure of sorts; a thrill; a conquest. Very few grasp that first and foremost it is an act of reproduction. And they're shocked when the rabbit dies.

Though current conditions parade myriad of couples who cheat, lie, backstab, or promiscuously fornicate for pleasure within the pages of numerous books, magazines, and newspapers; this does not excuse these behaviors. This does not make them right.

Why do we condone such conduct? Why do hordes view the latest and greatest Reality Slime Show rather than refusing to contribute to its popularity by not watching? Turn the frickin' set off. It works for me.

And why do we throw away millions of dollars on gossip and smut magazines, which create crap in-crap out mentalities for generations to come? Civilizations are wiped away in the wake of such torrents.

The pre-twenty-first century advice "If he/she jumped off a cliff, would you?" comes to mind. This and "You're gonna poke your eye out" were my father's favorites.

I believe in free speech as much as the next person. Let the media's propaganda infect the countryside. I could care less. I have my "cure:" A "little" thing called free will—a simple matter of choice. And I choose to not listen; I choose to not watch.

It's appalling to me how easily we allow others to herd us blindly into a ridiculous fad or malicious behavior. And the reasons given, the excuses made, are just as ridiculous as the behavior itself.

Our sexual escapades are included in this methodically designed mayhem. My e-mails have proven this to me. They've also shown me that for the most part our children are lost—lost in a sea of confusion and panic. And is it any wonder? Most adults lack direction and values. Therefore, how can we expect our children to behave otherwise?

One such lost individual is "Anne."

As I previously said, she's in her early twenties. And two months ago, a doctor informed her she was pregnant. Stunned and distraught, she went home and gave the news to her live-in boyfriend of two years. He, in turn, explained how much she meant to him; that he loved her—deeply; and how wonderful it would be to have her as the mother of his children.

Alas, that was two months ago…

Today, he wants out of the relationship. Anne wrote that he offered to pay for an abortion. But she doesn't want one—she thinks. She also mentions that he found a new love with which to spend his time. She's pregnant and alone, and asking if there's anything she can do; anything that will win back the heart of this man.

After a long and arduous period of consideration, I realized that her quandary hit home harder than any other question I've received in the past five years. I was twenty when my daughter was born. And I, too, was alone. My significant other wanted to stay together, but he also wanted me to get rid of our baby.

Putting my feelings aside as I answer Anne's e-mail could be rather difficult. But it's a task I'll gladly undertake. One for which I'm well equipped I believe. Not just due to the similarities of our predicaments, but because I've discussed these matters with quite a few youngsters, and therefore understand her options and I'm familiar with the ramifications of each choice. In the end, however, the choice is Anne's. What she does and how she reacts are her choices to make. Hopefully she finds the guidance she seeks and the peace of my mind she requires in my writing.

I'm fully aware that proper guidance and peace of mind are precious commodities. Their rarity makes them so to my mind. Still, for some reason, my life is now full of both. My guidance comes from many avenues: My husband, my mother, my mother-in-law, a handful of friends, reading, and last, but surely not least, my religious beliefs. My peace of mind mainly stems from only two of these listed items: My husband and my religious beliefs. And the older I get, the more I wish others had the wherewithal to gain these powerful assets. I find myself wanting to share these "gifts" I've been given. Naturally, I cannot share my husband for obvious reasons, but I do pass on much of the warmth and security he gives me. My hopes have been that others might find their way, as I have found mine.

And so, these hopes go out to Anne on this day.

But before I convey my opinions with regard to her situation, I'd like to quote an age old piece of advice that my mother often said, "Why would he buy the cow if the milk is free?" It sounds silly, huh? Well, I thought so too thirty-some years ago. But it holds just as true today as it did then. Oh sure, one may get lucky (as I have), but the odds are that good men will not settle down with women who are easily bedded.

The first step in any relationship is dating. And according to the same dictionary mentioned at the beginning of this piece, a date is defined as having social engagements with persons of the opposite sex. Notice this says social, not private—not sexual. Dating is a time of discovery. We should never cut this step short. We should revel in it. The longer this period lasts the better one knows the other proposed half of the new relationship. This step brings out the best in us: We put our best foot forward so to speak. So, have fun; get to know one another.

The women of the past were masters of this first step. In some instances, the dating period lasted for years. But for the most part, no matter how long it endured, sexual encounters came after weddings—not before.

Add to this that these women were ladies: A quality that is sorely lacking in the women of today. Their refined habits, gentle mannerisms, and sense of responsibility mingled with their courage and strength made the majority of them true prizes. Men fought for them; died for them. Armies battled due to the love of a man and a woman. Never underestimate the power of a lady.

And so, my first piece of advice for Anne is to remain ladylike: Head held high, shoulders back, no yelling—composure is the key. Then, do what's best for you and your child. Trying to win back the heart of a man who walked out on you after hearing of your pregnancy is not what's best. And he now beds someone else: A sure sign of a jerk in my book. If these are his actions now, then, even if, by chance, you win his heart again, he'll eventually leave once more. He might wait until next month, next year, or even ten years. But in all probability, he'll leave.

It's difficult for most women to walk away from dirtbags: Something I've never quite understood. But Anne, believe me when I say that there are men out there who will gladly accept you as you are—baby and all—good men. But for now, your main concern should be you and your baby.

As for the abortion issue, you should take responsibility for your actions, even though this man has chosen to ignore his. If you decide you're not ready for children either, perhaps an alternative to consider is adoption. There are many couples who would love to be in your shoes. And the life growing inside of you should have its chance to live.

If you choose to raise the baby, which is my advice to you, as I did, then know that my decision to do so was one I did not regret—and never have.

We never know who our children will become; what they'll accomplish in their lifetime. I thank God for my daughter. She was/is a beacon of light in my darkest hours. And recently, she bore my first grandchild. I think back to what my past would have been like without her and I know I made the right choice. There is no other choice in my mind.

If the three jobs, no sleep, and financial stress I endured in my twenties were my price to pay for having my daughter, then I'm glad I paid it. And given the choice once more, I'd do it all over again.

I know the road ahead seems bleak—insurmountable. But it doesn't have to be. It all depends on your mindset, attitude, and, yes, your courage and strength.

It's better to be alone and pregnant than alone and in a relationship. I learned that the hard way too.