I’m back from vacation, and what a neat surprise to read Susan Courtad’s blog and find a post detailing how she met and started a relationship with her boyfriend of eight months. Lots of inspiration here.
Susan’s an attractive, clever, funny single working mother who endured a traumatic divorce, and then some bumps along the dating road.
In addition to her blog, One Woman Show, Susan is shopping around a novel and also writes Dinner for One at the Imperfect Parent.
Hello Terry,
I adore you! I have forwarded so many of your emails to some of my friends that they finally gave up and subscribed.
When I read your last email, I reaffirmed myself. Your quote from Rita Rudner was priceless but it reminded me of what I KNOW to be true. Men do have particular scents that appeal to them. In my past, when I would go out, I would wear men’s fragrances. Some are more female friendly than others, but they would attract.
My present obstacle is I have a handicap, I walk with a limp. I am now realizing that I have spent far too many years making myself invisible. I am a really great person, but unfortunately I have far too many “brothers” for my taste now. Do you have any suggestions on overcoming myself and believing I can have a relationship?
Keep up the excellent work you do!
-Ready for Mr. Wonderful
Dear Ready:
Thank you so much for writing and for your very kind words.
It’s really, really easy to believe that you’re undesirable when you’re short, or you feel fat, or your eyes cross when you take off your glasses, or you walk with a limp.
However, it’s just not true. The fact is, many guys are less interested in so-called physical perfection than in having a passionate relationship with a woman who “gets” them.
The hard part is not convincing men that you’re that woman. The hard part is convincing you you’re that woman.
Self-confidence, healthy self-love, and self-respect are absolutely critical to attracting and keeping a good man. Beauty, a 27-inch waist, and perfectly functioning legs are not.
Once you develop the qualities you need, you will radiate them. Men will notice.
Here’s how:
Use an affirmation. Please do not discount the effectiveness of affirmations. They work. Here’s one I’ve found to be particularly effective:
“I deeply and completely love and accept myself.”
Say it out loud when you’re in the shower, cooking dinner, exercising, whatever. Say it at least 25 times a day. It may sound scary and weird, but if you’re like most people you probably spend a lot of time putting yourself down. Why is that okay?
You Can Heal Your Life author, Louise Hay
“I love and accept you exactly as you are.”
(That should bring up some interesting stuff.)
In addition to using affirmations, use visualization to picture yourself in a fun, satisfying, happy, serious relationship. Bring in all your senses. For example, what would it feel like? Bring those emotions up and make them real. This may sound like hocus-pocus, but it works. Do it twice a day, preferably before you put your feet on the floor in the morning and before you drop off to sleep at night.
It takes discipline, but it pays off.
Then remind yourself what you have to offer a man. Write a list of your best qualities and stick it on your mirror.
In the meantime, be your own gorgeous boyfriend. Ask yourself: How would I like to be treated by the man of my dreams? Then treat yourself that way. Do the things you’d do with him. Go the places you’d go together.
After a while, men will pick up on your specialness, and they will act on it.
With regard to your “brothers,” if you ever feel taken for granted, make yourself less available. Start saying, “I’m sorry, but I’ve already made plans.” Make new friends (check previous posts here for tips), or just spend beautiful, quality time with yourself doing the things you love to do, reading the books you love to read, seeing the movies you want to see, and eating the food you love to eat.
Treat yourself as a treasure that’s yet to be discovered, and you will be discovered.
Terry
The Amazing V. and I set out for a neighboring town to India Raj for lunch. (All morning, I got a warm, happy feeling in my stomach whenever I remembered I’d soon be filling with vegetable vindaloo.)
We arrived at India Raj at 3:07, only to learn that they’d closed at 3 and wouldn’t reopen until dinner. Dejected, we headed back for her minivan and stuffed the children back in. The warm feeling in my stomach was replaced with a cold loneliness.
“We could try that other Indian place in Newtown,” V. suggested.
“Yeah, let’s do that,” I said, even though the food didn’t taste as good as India Raj’s. It also cost more.
“Let’s go for pizza,” shouted a little voice from the back.
But I wasn’t in the mood for pizza, not Connecticut pizza, anyway.
Valerie drove on, and as we passed the beautiful old stone houses and lattice-balconied stores and the mossy ponds with the tree branches coming straight up out of them, I kept thinking, “Wow. I am just so lucky to live here. It is the most beautiful place on earth.”
I said to the Amazing V., “You know, I really could go for falafel. I haven’t had a falafel since I moved here four-and-a-half years ago.”
“Yeah,” she said. “But you can’t get falafel in Connecticut, unless you count that dried-out thing we had in downtown Shelton.”
She hung a left into the parking lot of the Newtown Indian place. The sign on the door revealed that it, like the other, was closed and would not reopen until dinner.
“What’s with these people?” she asked.
And then we saw it: Across the street stood a little hole-in-the-wall Greek market.
“Check it out,” I said. “Greek food! Do you think they have falafel?”
(Although the state of Connecticut is home to many Greek diners, I have yet to find one that serves falafel. But I was feeling lucky.)
“Let’s try it,” said V.
We popped out of the van and into the store. A strapping Greek man came toward us.
“Do you have falafel?” I asked him.
“Yes, I have falafel. How many you want?”
At this point, we rounded up the children and seated them at tables in the back.
“I have a funny story to tell you,” I told the owner, as he brought out our orders. Then I told him of my desperation for a decent falafel since I moved here.
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“New York.”
“I used to live in New York when I came to this country. Where did you live?”
“Flushing.”
“Where?”
“Near Northern Boulevard.”
“Where?”
“172nd Street.”
“I know it. I used to work at the Saravan Diner.”
“Get out! It’s impossible to get falafel in Connecticut, you know.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Everyone here wants hamburger, cheeseburger, fish fry.”
Before I left, I ordered a gyro to go for Peter. When he and I were dating, we used to eat them at a Greek place in Flushing near his apartment.
Some people will insist that my falafel acquisition moments after uttering the words, “I could really go for falafel,” is coincidence.
But the Amazing V. and I do not think so.
I loved Ellen Goodman’s column in today’s newspaper, where she discussed the recent research that puts to rest the annoying myth that women talk too much.
I once read that women utter something like twice or three times as many words as men, but my own experience refutes that statistic. Anybody who knows me and my husband, for example, can tell you the guy easily out-talks me four words to one. (And his friends aren’t much better.)
I nearly died of shock after I moved in with him and got our first phone bill; I’d shared an apartment with a female friend for two whole years, and our bill consistently came in at about half of what Peter could ring up.
So, I do object to the whole ‘Men are from one Earth, and Women are from Pluto’ theory. Sure, there’s feminine, and there’s masculine, and thank God for it. But in the end, we’re all human.
Interestingly, I spoke to a woman today who has a 29-year-old son she’d like to marry off, but she says he’s hit that patch in life where he’s just not meeting new people. She maintains that a lot of the woman he’s dated just aren’t in a hurry to commit, a fact she attributes to the wider range of choices women enjoy these days.
She said she’d like her son to try the online dating route but is pretty sure he’ll tell her to mind her own business. She is the second person I’ve met recently who’s told me she has a son in his twenties who wants to get married.
So much for the stereotype that men don’t want to commit.
This woman also mentioned that her 42-year-old niece met and married a guy she met online. The woman’s crazy about her new husband, but unfortunately, he’s an officer in the army and was sent to Iraq shortly after the wedding.
If you’ve done any online dating, you know that meeting and entertaining a stream of new people can get expensive. Here’s a cheap date idea: Go out for ice cream and a walk. It’s a relatively pressure-free way to get to know someone, and it can encourage warm and happy feelings.
I know I keep repeating myself, but it’s not your job to convince some guy that you are the woman for him. It’s also not your job to analyze every syllable he utters, his every facial expression, or the deep-seated cause of his compulsive knuckle cracking.
If he says he doesn’t want a relationship, take him at his word. Keep moving until a braver man appears. If he wakes up one morning and finds he didn’t mean it, he’ll be sure to let you know.
Trust me.
At one point in my disastrous dating career, I made a vow to stop going out with men altogether until I met a guy worth my time. I concentrated on my friends and my career, traveled, and generally enjoyed life until my husband showed up.
And, even then, I wasn’t too enthusiastic about dating him. When he asked me out for the following Saturday, I answered, “How about Wednesday?”
To this day, he teases me about that. It certainly didn’t turn him off, though. If anything, it established the fact that I had a life of my own and enjoyed it (healthy men tend to be attracted to happy women with full lives).
But, hey, I figured all the guys I’d dated so far turned out to be duds (or heartbreakers), so why blow a perfectly good Saturday night with some guy I’d probably have nothing in common with? Especially when I could be out with my friends.
After all, Saturday only comes once a week.
Hi, Terry-
We talk about how to get a good man, make him pursue you, cherish you like a treasure all the time, but do you think we women need to get over our pride? If it hurts pretending that we don’t care about that man, shouldn’t we show we sincerely care about him?
I went out twice with a certain man from work and had a physical relationship. I liked him a lot, but in order to pretend to be cool, I agreed with him that we are just “physical.” I didn’t want him to think that I want a serious relationship so fast.
I know he liked me, too, but after that he doesn’t answer my calls anymore. He still helps me at work and is friendly, but our intimacy seems gone. I don’t know if he is not really interested in me or if my cool attitude stops him.
He is leaving the country soon (which I knew from the beginning), and I don’t know if he is coming back. I am very depressed that I might lose him, especially when I know another girl has decided to follow him (yes, he is very popular. Most women like him).
Now he is not answering my calls or text messages. Should I get over my pride and visit him in the other country? Or should I tell him in person I want to be with him?
-Confused
While there’s no way in hell I’d travel to another country to see the guy, you have absolutely nothing to lose by telling him you loved getting to know him, and that you’ll miss him.
I would tell him in person. I would look him in the eye. I would leave no room for doubt that you care for him a great deal. Then let him leave the country. Let him roll things around in his mind for a while. See if anything comes of it.
In the meantime, I would cease calling, texting, or emailing him immediately. Once you’ve told him how you feel, the ball is in his court. It is up to him to contact you. If you try to contact him, you’ll push him in the wrong direction.
So say your bit and walk away.
I want to clarify something: Being proud and being cold are two different things. Being proud means you expect to be treated well. Being cold just makes people think you’re not that crazy about them.
Think of it this way. If you dated a guy, and he told you he just wanted to be “physical,” wouldn’t you be confused if he called you and texted you afterwards?
Next time, try doing the opposite. Let a guy know you’re interested in him by looking him in the eye and truly listening to him. Laugh at his jokes, if they’re funny. Let him know you had a great time at the end of the night.
Most of the time, a guy will say, “I’ll call you.”
Which means he has taken it upon himself to initiate further contact. Take him at his word. Let him live up to it.
Let him call you.
Keep busy in the meantime. This is no time to camp out next to the phone. If he calls, go out with him. If he doesn’t, move on. If he doesn’t call until three weeks later, I wouldn’t leap to go out with him again. If I really liked him, I might fit him in after a week or so.
As for this guy who’s on his way out of the country, there’s nothing you can do to make him return your affection. You just have to let him go. Whether he comes back and sees you for the great person you are is entirely up to him.
It’s not easy, but it is freeing in a way, isn’t it?
Terry
The trip to the Jersey Shore for my brother-in-law’s 40th birthday party was worth it for numerous reasons:
1. I got to see smart, fun people I hadn’t seen in years
2. I got to spend time with my cousin and her remarkable boyfriend
3. The pain in my neck I suffered as a result of recent events finally subsided
4. My ghostly offspring and I showed up on the beach, making every sunbather in the vicinity feel superior.
About my cousin and her boyfriend:
When she was in her 20s, she watched all her friends get married. Most of her siblings and cousins married. Like a lot of married people who drop their single friends, they dropped her. She soldiered on, hoping to meet the right guy, between shopping for and attending showers. For one reason or another, all relationships met dead ends.
By the time she got into her 30s, she started to feel pretty dissatisfied about life. The dating parade continued, but few of the men did it for her. If they did it for her, she didn’t do it for them. She pressed on, spending time with fellows who enjoyed her hobbies of dancing and going to the theater.
I’d met several of them over the years because she brought them to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving. They didn’t thrill me, and they didn’t thrill her.
Then, four years ago, as I hung a shower curtain in our new house, my cousin called to invite me somewhere. She mentioned that she’d been dating a podiatrist. She didn’t say she was crazy about him, or that he was crazy about her, but I could hear it in her voice: This guy was different.
He’s still different. Spending time at their house last weekend, I actually got a lump in my throat; their love for one another is that obvious (without being creepy).
My father called me last night to rave about the dude. Peter loves him. My aunt is crazy about him. He’s successful but down to earth. He’s polite. He’s funny. He’s easy to be around. And he loves my cousin.
If he’s so great, you may ask, why hasn’t he married her?
Well, it’s certainly not for lack of trying. He’s the love of her life, she says, but they have a good thing. Why mess it up?
During our 4-hour trip to the Jersey Shore Saturday morning, we encountered a series of jerk drivers. You know the type: They exist solely to weave in and out of tight spaces and scare the pants off everybody else on the parkway.
I briefly–very briefly–dated such an individual in college. He liked to call himself “an offensive driver.” His sister called him “Asshole.”
Which is, of course, what he turned out to be.
When you’re dating a guy, watch the way he drives. Decent men (those of the ‘treat others as you would have them treat you’ variety) don’t need to prove they own the road. They don’t cut people off. They resist urges to speed around blind curves. They don’t zip through residential neighborhoods.
Case in point: My cousin’s boyfriend drives a new Jaguar, but he’s not an idiot about it. He drives it like a man, not like a 7-year-old. He lets the car speak for itself.
While this man can afford his car, a lot of people driving luxury vehicles can’t. They’re living on credit. Don’t be impressed by cars. Actions speak much louder than possessions.
The last thing you ever want to do is end up with a guy in serious debt. A man in debt is a miserable man. He’ll make you miserable, too.
Talk about the Law of Attraction.
For the past couple of days, I’ve been talking, thinking, and writing about online dating services like Match.com and Eharmony.
And then I got a call today from my insurance agent telling me that he’d received notice from my insurance company. They told him they planned to cancel my policy because I hadn’t paid my premium, which was due June 8th (between accommodating houseguests during my father-in-law’s funeral and shuttling children to end-of-year school activities, I forgot to write the check).
My insurance agent is my cousins’ childhood friend, so I’m friendly with him. After we agreed that I would set up an automatic payment plan, he said, “I don’t know whether the boys have told you, Terry, but I’m getting married.”
“Get out!” I shrieked. “Congratulations.”
(Just so you know, this guy is tall, well-employed, smart, good-looking, and funny. It’s amazed me for years that nobody had ever snatched him up.)
“When’s the big day?” I asked.
“We’re going to elope,” he said. “But she’s Irish like me, so we plan a trip to Ireland early next year.”
“Where did you meet?” I asked.
He paused.
“On Match.com, if you can believe it,” he answered sheepishly. “You get to be my age (44), and you don’t get to meet too many people otherwise.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” I said. Then I told him about my male friend who’d had success on Eharmony.
Now here’s the best part of this guy’s story:
“I’d been on Match for about a year,” he continued. “And I met a lot of quality people, but nothing clicked. Then I met this woman, and I knew right away.”
This guy’s tenacity struck me. Honestly, if I’d endured a year’s worth of lackluster dates, I’d probably drop Match.com. I’d give up. Dating the wrong people is exhausting. It’s also expensive.
But not this guy. He knew what he wanted, and he held out for it. He found it. Hearing this thrilled me to no end. I just love it when people get what they’re looking for.
