These two people look like they are having a nice date, don't they?

The day after Jon and I broke up, I received an e-mail from a blogger friend of mine (one of those lovely people that I have never met in person but have bonded with through our blogs and Facebook).  She said she didn’t want to be insensitive but was wondering if I would be interested in working with a dating coach that was looking for bloggers to write about the coaching process.  My response?  Sure, why not?  I was standing at a moment in which none of my previous efforts had led me to Mr. Right, so I might as well try a new approach.  We all need a new approach from time to time, no?

Yesterday, I had my first phone call with Sheila Paxton, the dating coach.  After reading my friend Mandy’s experience with her, I knew that my goals would be different from hers.  Mandy had needed help getting back into the dating game, so to speak.  I know many of my readers feel that way, and having a coach to advise you and cheer you on could be exactly what you need to overcome the terror of it all.  I, however, don’t seem to have a problem dating.  In fact, when I posted on Facebook that I was getting a dating coach, one of my friends said that I could BE a dating coach.  It is true that I don’t have trouble meeting men and going on dates with them.  I have dated guys that I met online (of course), in the gym, in a café, in a bar (although he likes to say that it was the bar area of a nice restaurant so that it sounds less seedy), in yoga (you gotta love the post-class smoothie at the Haymarket even if you don’t end up loving the guy), on Facebook (he friended me and then asked me out and I laughed that he was trolling FB for dates), and through my blog.  I think we can safely say that I’ve got the meeting men part down pat.

So why I am engaging the services of a dating coach, even if it is for free (we are doing an exchange of services: she coaches me and I blog about it, no endorsement required)?  Well, I guess it starts with my childhood (ha! You weren’t expecting that, were you?).  My parents, of fifty-year marriage fame, were involved in a group called Creative Initiative Foundation back in the seventies, and they often went to seminars on spirituality, human potential, and marital health (for lack of a better word).  My sister, following in their footsteps, recently attended a Psi seminar with her husband, and she has also sent her employees to it.  In other words, I come from a family tradition of self-examination and the desire for self-improvement.  If I were still married right now, I’m sure that my ex and I would be going to a seminar as well (and that would have been fascinating, but we can only speculate about that alternate reality).  So here I am, the divorced and single blogger, looking for love, and wondering why I haven’t found it yet, and a dating coach presents herself.  It makes perfect sense, except I have decided that I am now going to call her a relationship coach since I don’t really need a dating coach but instead somehow who will help me find the right relationship.

Last night, when I told a new friend of mine that I was doing this, she said “You’re beautiful, smart, and hysterical (she’s a keeper, huh?).  What can she do for you?  Deliver you a man?”  That’s what I am hoping.  Sheila calls her company Intentional Relationships and she coaches people on all kinds of relationships, including business ones.  I am hoping that by setting some concrete intentions, by clarifying what I really want in a relationship, and focusing on looking for men that have the qualities that I know I want, I will attract the right person into my life.  And in the process, I hope to learn a thing or two about myself.  So stay tuned readers, because I am sharing the wealth with you.  Now I am going to go edit my online dating profile.

This past week, something very troubling and sad happened in our lives, something that many of you may have seen on the news.  My daughter’s second grade teacher was arrested and charged with the possession and creation of child pornography.  This event was disturbing on so many levels, but the one that I want to mention is that it made me question my ability to trust people, especially men.

Layla’s teacher was a truly amazing and dedicated educator, and the allegations against him made me wonder what secrets each of us is keeping.  My faith in humanity was truly rocked.  This man, whom so many parents and children adored, had a secret life that was not only illegal but also quite harmful to the same people that he professed to care about.  The irony of this situation was quite painful and confusing for me.

Fortunately, a silver lining appeared in this incredibly dark cloud that was hovering above me.  People started reaching out and demonstrating a tremendous amount of kindness.  As is always the case, my Facebook community responded with overwhelming support.  I disagree with the criticisms made about the superficiality of social media connections because my online community has buoyed me in several moments of turmoil, and their love and admiration for my response to this situation helped restore my faith not only in humanity but also in the role of the Internet in our society (very bad for the dissemination of child porn, excellent for social support).  In addition, the parents at my kids’ school reached out to me, and we shared and bonded in a profound way that wouldn’t have been possible if not for a crisis that made us forget about our busy schedules and take time to talk to each other in a meaningful way.

In this difficult time, I want to mention two people who were particularly supportive to me, two people whose presence in my life I appreciate so much: my ex husband and Jon.  When I first heard the news, my immediate reaction was to call my ex.  It didn’t matter that we had just had a disagreement over plans for the kids’ February break about five minutes before.  I knew he’d care.  And I knew that he would listen to me.

I literally sobbed on the phone.  The mere fact that we could turn to each other in a time of crisis was so important.  No matter how much anyone cares about our kids, no one has the love and investment in them that we both do.  As a divorced couple, we don’t get to share that daily.  However, due to our peaceful relationship and continued friendship, we do have the ability to bond over the big things.  It was very helpful for me (and for him too, I believe) to process this together.

Jon was another great source of support.  I was really blunt with him about how this was coloring my view of men and eroding my ability to trust.  He said something that might seem small to some, but spoke volumes to me.  He reassured me that I could trust him.  He reminded me that he had been honest with me from day one.  As I had mentioned in an earlier post, sometimes that honesty seemed too much for me.  I wanted a rosy, romantic view of him.  Yet in this moment, when I was feeling a devastating lack of trust, I realized how right he had been.  By being forthright with me, he showed me an integrity that not all people are capable of.  And that felt really comforting.

So here I am, once again attempting to find the positive lesson in a very trying situation.  My heart was deeply saddened by the news that someone that my family had admired and trusted had allegedly betrayed that trust.  And it temporarily closed down.  Yet the presence of so many good people (and I use that word deliberately) in my life ended up opening it up wider than it had been before.

Maybe now you can see why I work to keep my exes in my life.  They enrich it in so many ways.  And for that, I am extremely grateful.

My parents recently celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary.  They met on a blind date, got engaged three dates later, and were married within six months (three of which my mother spent alone in Europe).  This kind of impulsive, romantic love has become a big part of our family lore.   My sister and I were a bit more cautious, yet we fell in love very quickly with our future spouses and within months were living with them.   I guess you could say that excitement and optimism over love’s potential is a family trait.

When Jon and I started our relationship, I thought I might show some restraint.   I know that infatuation doesn’t always last and that it takes time to see if true compatibility exists.   Yet Jon’s enthusiasm was infectious, and within mere weeks we were talking about moving in together.   As we relished in our new found connection, we fantasized about buying a place, and he sent me real estate listings and spreadsheets on how we could afford them.  We made daily Facebook updates about our amorous adventures.   A month later I met his family during the Thanksgiving holiday.   Two months later he came to California to meet mine.   I was thrilled at the thought of having found a future life partner, especially one with so much energy, zeal for life, and dedication to family.

Yet as many love stories do, this one has come to an end.   I think it started back in December when I noticed him getting more distant, distracted, and moody.  When we were together, he was spending more time checking his iPhone and less time looking me in the eye.  I tried to reach out and talk to him about it, but to no avail.  I found myself playing a Joni Mitchell lyric over and over in my head, “I sat up all the night and listened to thee/ Just to see who in the world you might be/ And what you might mean to me.”  In his words, Jon still showed the same commitment to our relationship, but I was starting to wonder if this was the kind of relationship that I wanted because I like to have a strong, constant, and intimate connection with my partner.

I spoke with my family and friends, especially those with spouses who worked long hours and traveled a lot to see how they dealt with the moments of separation and potential disconnection.  I told myself to accept him on his terms, to focus on what I liked best about him and our relationship, and I tried not to give too much attention to my concerns.  Yet I also set an intention at the New Year to gain some clarity on the situation.

When we returned to California, he brought up the question again of cohabitation.  I said that we should think about it, and, as I often do when I am trying to figure something out, I blogged about it. I tried to imagine what our life might be like together.  On Monday, after we hadn’t seen each other in a week, and hadn’t been alone in two weeks, I felt the need to talk to him about how I felt that we weren’t connecting.  He didn’t know how to respond to me, clammed up, and said that he couldn’t talk at that moment since he was at work, which was understandable, yet it had been his suggestion to talk that morning.

Later that day, in another attempt to process my feelings, I wrote a blogpost about our past mistakes and how to avoid allowing them to ruin our present relationships.  Ironically, it did just that.  Jon felt very hurt by the post and wanted to talk to me about it right away.  At that point, I was with my kids so it was impossible to talk on the phone for long.  So we started an email and IM exchange where a lot of our feelings and frustrations were finally aired.

I took the post down and edited it.  I sent it to a few close friends, asking for their input.  I was having a really hard time understanding why he was so upset about what I wrote, then he got angry that I didn’t understand him nor show sufficient compassion and sensitivity.  Then I got frustrated that he was so willing to talk about his concerns, when I felt that he had dismissed my concerns earlier in the day.  We basically hit an impasse.

The next day, clarity came to me.  We made plans for him to come over after the kids’ bedtime to talk.  I knew that there were two options: that we were going to decide that we were emotionally incompatible or we would find a way to take some concrete steps to improve our communication and connection.  He decided on the former.

This morning, as I drove my kids from a dentist appointment, a song by the Tedeschi Trucks band caught my attention on the radio.  “I’m gonna learn how to love you. I’m gonna show you show me how.”  I guess we never really learned how to love each other, at least in the way that each wanted to be loved.  Yet is true love something we learn or does it come naturally?  I don’t know, but I do know that I learned a tremendous amount about myself in this whole process.  And I truly believe that I have gained a dear friend along the way because when I care about someone, a breakup can’t change that.  I’ve had a change of relationship status (which Facebook has duly noted), not a change of heart.