LESSON 8: Money Isn't Nothing.

Like many sorta-liberal, sorta-hippie, independent NYC gals in their early 30s, I never wanted to believe a wealthy man was the key to a happy life. On the contrary, in fact. I have dated enough moneybags to know, they’re more trouble than they’re worth. In short, I’ve always found that money often equals freaky, weird, fucked-up.

BUT I also knew I couldn't live with poor.

My career has never ever been the driving force of my life. However, in the last few years, I’ve established one. A decent one, actually. These days, I could easily take care of myself, a small child and even a cute puppy, if one found its way under the Christmas tree. But even in my pre-working girl days of fun, travel and freelance, I managed to live decently, never incurring debt nor sleeping on too many couches (some i admit). Overall, I lived within my means, one pizza slice at a time. Sure, I couldn't afford a lot of banana pudding from Magnolia but I had my basic needs covered. And then, a few years ago, I knew I wanted more. So I got myself a real job. Do I cheer when I wake up every morning to go to work? No. Do I ask for sleepless nights dreaming up the big idea for a reinsurance company? No. Can I live with it, because I’m a grown-up who can take care of myself and contribute to something, anything other than my self-involved self? Yes, sadly.

My point: if you want a grown-up relationship, don't get involved with a pauper. Generally speaking, people who can take care of themselves, financially and emotionally, are more likely to have the bandwidth and ability to support another person—and I'm not talking about financially. Wanna be in a well-balanced relationship? Don't get involved with someone raiding your couch for lunch money.

You may wonder how I define "poor". I actually think of it as more a state of mind than circumstancial. Meaning a 27-year-old creative writing grad student with ambition and potential is very different than a 45-year-old career Dominos pizza delivery boy. And of course, we all have our individual definitions. After the age of 26, I could no longer date another struggling actor. But then again, that probably had nothing to do with the money thing.

Ultimately, you're gonna do what you want to get to where you're going. And hopefully, you'll learn lots of good stuff a long the way. But at the very least, heed my advice: Stay away from actors*—however poor or wealthy. Don't say, I didn't warn you.

*you know the kind

Lesson 7: First Soul-Search. Then Soulmate Search.

We’ve all gone through personal crises—for some, it’s the realization that your 22-year career has been a huge mistake; for others, it’s the discovery you’ve been drinking decaf for the last two months. Whatever it is, it rocks your world in such a way that you question EVERYTHING—your life, your purpose, your choices, your family, friends, partners, job, home, or for some, lack thereof.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the exact WRONG time to drag anyone into your personal drama.

It’s a fact of life, we all have bigger baggage at many points of our lives. But if you’re looking to get into a relationship, strive to bring the lightest load possible.

Yes, people grow in relationships. And yes, there are ample opportunities to develop. But only when you’re able to see them. Right now, you can’t find a tree in the forest.

I’m not saying someone new won’t be able to give you a new perspective and help you emotionally through a rough patch. It’s possible, but it’s short-lived and highly-dysfunctional. You must ask yourself, “Who is this person? And why is she wiping the snot from my nose and making this big investment in someone she met last week?” You might say you offer something else to him that he needs. Most likely though, you’re just two troubled souls providing each other solace until you break up and realize you’ve got some stuff to sort out on your own. That’s the thing with relationships, they’re great hiding spots.

I had a succession of relationships with really troubled characters and I am fairly certain that I caused more damage than good—to them and certainly to myself. I was looking for stable, normal relationships with men with whom I became emotionally attached and were completely unable to reciprocate, as they were so entirely up their own butts in their own issues. This, I can assure you, was no fun for me and made me question what the hell I was doing. For them, I allowed them to avoid their issues until the relationships ended and until they found their next pathetic victims, god bless them. Sadly, some people will always live in a permanent crisis. I have no answers for this.

So when do you know it’s safe to get into a relationship? Well, only you know when you’re able to stand on your own, without crutches or an electric scooter. And when you are ready, you’re more likely to find some other not-crippled individual. Sure, you may need some piggy-back rides along the way, but at the end, you’ll always have your own two, beautiful (or crusty and callused) feet to keep you standing.

Remember, successful relationships involve two strong people. When two people enter a relationship in positions of strength, there is a healthy balance of give and take—which over time will fluctuate with shifting needs and circumstances. Without this delicate balance, your relationship is sure to be one more area for crisis. But maybe you’re into that sort of thing.

Lesson 6: Sleep With Him. Just Don’t Sleep Over. Not Until You’re Ready.

Of all my relationship memories, the ones that stand out the most have little to do with sex, vacations, events, pizza or “real” life for that matter. The images that are firmly imprinted in my mind I have no photographs of. They’ve never been described in an entertaining story told to friends or journal entries for myself. Yet, the connections associated with bedtime and sleeping next to someone—spooning, snoring, sheet-stealing, puppy breath and all—have stayed with me longer than the length of the relationships.

I’ve always believed that your sleeping (subconscious) relationship mirrors your conscious relationship. Sleep is where all your “stuff” about yourself, and in effect your relationship, surfaces, i.e., intimacy issues, blah blah… But I also believe that sleep is where your subconscious can triumph over the conscious mind, and allow your “real” self and needs to expose themselves. It’s like when someone with sleep issues finally sleeps soundly next to a new partner.

Of course, this clearly explains the fear of “sleeping over” in a new relationship. Fear which can sometimes translate to courage as seen in my friend, Frank’s case. After the dirty deed, he would very politely ask his new partner to sleep on the couch. The mensch could never actually ask her to leave.

Many years ago I was dating Pierre, a Frenchman. After dating a little while, he finally acquiesced to the "sleep over". In our first few months sleeping next to each other, he refused to have any part of his body come into contact with mine. I remember living in fear that I would accidently graze his ankle with my foot in the middle if the night and he would scream in horror, waking the neighbors who would call the cops. I knew our relationship had progressed once his body was wrapped around mine as we fell asleep. He was finally vulnerable to me. Yet he remained the prick with intimacy issues in real life. But at least in bed, he belonged to me. Not sure if that was great, but a consolation prize I valued. I guess we spend so much of our lives sleeping that if we are cherished for that part of it, that’s a lot. Isn’t it?

Actually I find the whole sleeping together thing quite heartbreaking. For a very long time, I thought that spending the night together after sex, the most intimate of acts, was a normal, mandatory thing. It wasn’t until recently that I realized that “the spending the night together” part was actually a million times more intimate. So I eventually stopped spending the night and asked people to leave. I finally knew what it was like to be a dude.

It hasn’t occurred to me until recently that the hardest part of my breakups have been leaving the sleep relationships. In bed with a partner, I never felt lonely. The rituals were natural and always comforting. I enjoyed someone stealing my pillows, sleeping on someone else’s wrist, breathing my sweet puppy breath on someone, keeping someone up with insipid chatter…

So now I have a sleep partner I adore. When he’s sweaty, I push him over. When I pull his arm, he spoons me. When I ask him to sing me to sleep, he tells me he knows no songs and I sing the Star Spangled Banner. There’s a whole system worked out, which for me is a microcosm of our relationship.

Sleep is intimate stuff. My advice: Don’t jump into it until you’re good and ready.

I’m quoting a doctor in a recent NY Times article: “Even though we may take sleeping with our partner for granted, it’s through these kinds of shared social systems that we build and nurture our relationships, and perhaps uncover the underlying meaning of our lives.”

Lesson 5: Don’t Fall For the Accent

Accents are sexy. But so are 5-inch stilettos. They’re both dangerous and bad ideas. And trust me I know. As a reformed Francophile and general Europhile (and clutz) prone to falling deeply in love with anyone who I couldn’t understand, I know too well the needless drama involved with dating men of mystery.

Here’s the first thing that I always resented: They know they’re hot. So they automatically have an edge over you. And the thing is, you’re pathetically helpless. So as you’re drooling over him during your dinner of salad Nicoise, Frenchie knows you want him. The Spaniard calls you after three weeks of unreturned calls and you drop everything to meet her. The Italian cheats on you, makes up a story about pity sex with his ex and you forgive him. The whole thing is just unbearable. When did an accent become a reusable get-out-of-jail-free-card?

You may be asking yourself how different is a Swedish hottie from the Texan-accented sweetie? Loads. The Swede has a whole other life in another language that you will probably never know—even with years of dedication to Rosetta Stone. Never. Which might be fine and sexy for a while. But in the long run, the meatballs get tiresome. And well, Tex, at least, you can pretend to kind of understand when you’re drunk!

I’m not saying that there’s no chance in having a good relationship with foreign-accented guy/girl. Of course, it’s possible. You just have to step back from the relationship and see if it’s just the mystery, or accent, that’s keeping your weak self from dumping her.

At the tender age of 24, I was very much in my francophilic years. I had just come out of a tormenting relationship with a psychopathic Parisian actor and after a long recovery, I went back to Europe, looking for a replacement. I was traveling through French-speaking Switzerland when I met a sweet Swiss-French/Spanish boy, Miguel. Miguel did not speak a lick of English. To no one’s surprise here, it was love at first sight. With my high-school Spanish, we tried pathetically to communicate as we traveled through Spain together. He would whisper something about potato omelettes in my ear and I would swoon. Eventually, I went back home to New York but a couple miserable months later, I decided to move to Geneva to be with him and work on my even-more-sorry French. Despite everything I’ve said about people with sexy accents, I don’t totally believe sexy accent = bad people. Miguel was actually a lovely person. But the funny thing is that as my French language skills improved over six months, I found him less and less attractive. We broke up. After learning a painful, prolonged lesson about accents, I went home to date more boys with accents.

So who am I to tell you what to do? I was suckered for years and years. Until I was over it. And now I date a Southerner I can mostly understand: ) Anyhow, date as many accents as you want. Get it out of your system. Just don’t get too distracted to recognize that dog doo in francais or espanol or italiano is still dog doo.

LESSON 4: Be Grateful for the Fade-Out

A few winters ago I was fixed up by a friend of mine. The guy was a magazine publisher, Jack, and we hit it off on our first date. Lightning didn’t strike or anything but we liked each other and we made a second date a week later. Again, good date. He took me to Artisanal and we had great fondue with lots of fine cheese. What’s not to like? Our third date the next week was plain awkward. To provide a little bit of context, we had not gone further than kissing on the corner hailing separate cabs at the end of our dates. And that’s precisely what happened at the end of the evening of our really strange third date. Anyway, I was hoping to never hear from him again. I certainly wasn’t gonna contact him. There was no need to confirm the obvious. I WANTED the fade-out.

So what happens? He emails me and explicitly states that he doesn’t think we would work out. Um, really? No kidding. Ughhh. I was so mad. How did he get off “breaking up” with me? Weren’t we supposed to let this go gracefully? Did he really need to confirm the obvious? Jeez, I could’ve wrote him the same email but DIDN’T. Because it WASN’T necessary. We hadn’t emailed in a few days, we didn’t sleep together, he was a brother of a friend of a friend… it was NOT necessary to REJECT me. And as gentlemanly as I’m sure he thought he was being, he actually looked like a big fat jerk. So in that instance, ladies and gentlemen, not fading-out was a jerk move.

Yes, I fully support the fade-out—in any non-serious dating situation. I am not a sadist nor masochist. I think when it’s pretty clear the feelings aren’t there and there are no obligations, the fade-out is the BEST way out. Why suffer the needless drama and feelings associated with rejection/rejecting? WHY? Really now. Who needs it?

Ok, but what happens when you really like someone who is fading you out? First consideration: does this person have any obligations to you? Let’s define obligations. For me, it’s if you’ve been dating “seriously” (whatever you mean by that) for over a couple of months. (But of course, this is another post topic to be tackled later.)

If there is no obligation then well, you call him once/twice to follow up. And if there’s no response after your attempts, that person is a jerk plain and simple. But he is a kind jerk. Really, did you need an explanation? What would it do for you but make you question your self-worth and obsess over every little step/misstep of your short-lived relationship? This person is NOT for you, that’s it. Trust me on this. As my very wise friend Peter says, “Your true love won’t reject you.” This I believe. If you need a reason, chalk it up to the ex or her job or “bad timing”—which I think is always a big factor. Whatever, it’s probably not personal. And if it is, who cares? It’s his problem. Not yours. You’re now extricated from a relationship with no future. How great is that?

So what happens if you’re being faded-out by someone who really owes you more? Well, you hunt her down and pelt her with frozen marshmallows. Just kidding. This person is not a kind jerk but a jerk-jerk of the worst kind. This fade-out I don’t approve of. It’s a lousy, cowardly thing to do. And you do not want to be involved with a coward. Of course, you aren’t necessarily a coward if you do cowardly things. But after you call/email/text him a few too many times and there are no/few adequate responses. You’ve got yourself a coward that you can kiss goodbye. And the break-up was probably long overdue anyway.

LESSON 3: Play the game...a little

Most people I know would be shocked to see me say something like this. But rest assured, I'm not actually condoning game players, just a little game playing. (like how you can act foolish without being an actual fool. ok, not a good example.)

Truth be told, I've never even played the game. In fact, unlike millions of lovely, intelligent women who went out and bought the book, I never even believed there were rules. I never seemed to be lacking dates so it seemed everyone else in the world was damn crazy, not to mention completely wrong. Well, lo and behold, about a year ago I learned that I was the foolish one (but not the fool, thank you very much). After a few months after dating Kenny (my current bf), he mentioned to me how I made it too easy, how many more flowers I could have received, how many more MEALS I could have been treated to (see my other blog: ), how much nicer he'd still be to me, how many more back rubs... Of course, he said all this half-jokingly but it did make me think: Man, I could've had so much more free PIZZA!!! and back rubs!!

Was I too easy?? Maybe. I looked back long and hard. Ya, it was true. I pretended to like his cooking :) I gave him a drawer at my place. I even told him I loved him first. But my feeling was if you like (or love) someone, you should show it. Life is short, right? Right, I guess. But think of how much BANANA PUDDING I gave up.

Looking back, there wasn’t much doubt in our relationship (outside of our first few dates). And that’s precisely why I should’ve played a little. I wouldn’t have had anything to lose. And I would’ve helped ease Kenny’s monkey mind. He’s admitted as much that he wondered about a girl that was so easy to get. Doubts. My easiness gave him doubts. Precisely, what my kind-hearted soul didn't want to give him. And he goes and haves them anyway! Of course in our case, it turned out fine, but it doesn’t for everyone.

As we all know and I’m willing to admit now, we don’t want anything easy to get. If we did, most of my New Yorker friends wouldn’t be living in this soul-sucking town, eating tuna fish from a can, living in East East East Williansburg, drinking PBR, slaving for the man, working nights and weekends chasing our elusive little dreams....

My point: play a little. I’m not saying you need to conform to expectations. I’m just saying you might save yourself a little grief. And get a bunch more free TUNA SUSHI ROLLS. I’m still of the opinion that if you care for or love someone, you should show it. You should just keep the mystery going for a little while. And think of the free PUMPKIN ICE CREAM you could gain.

Anyway, I have a friend, Inez, who is a prime example of why you should be playing the game. This motorcycle dude she met came on really strong the first two dates. She had liked him but his eagerness gave her the willies, and she had to stop seeing him. Well, after several weeks of reflection, she decided to give him another chance. It seems that he’s backed off not just a little but a lot and suddenly, she’s much more into him. I bet he's enjoying the free BABY BACK RIBS now. Typical story, I guess. And another good example of why you should play…a little.

Lesson 2: Go ahead. Fart. Snort. Blow milk out of your nose.

I think it was my friend, Todd, who once said that if a guy is smitten, you could do no wrong. I can’t remember the context of his words of wisdom, but I imagine I was about to go on a fourth or fifth date and I forgot to shave my armpit hairs or something else inconsequential. Whatever the case, Todd was right. I knew from personal experience.

When I was in college, I was totally in love with the cute, red-headed boy who lived in the dorm room above mine. He lived in a den of body odor (not to mention war-torn Lebanon) and for some odd reason, it never even bothered me. Me, Miss I-can-smell-a-fart-from 20-miles-away. Damn, HE WAS SMELLY! Like taxi cab driver in August with no A/C smelly. And I still let him kiss me, for like 3 months.

There are too many other stories I can’t relive here. So allow me to borrow some embarrassing stories from generous people near and dear to me.

For years, my friend, Harold, said he would only date very thin women who lived below 14th Street in Manhattan. Not soon after that statement, Harold was not only dating, but living with a fatty from 56th Street. She was such a bitch I don’t even feel bad about calling her a fatty.

My friend, Jeannie, was seriously dating a man who refused to make a weekend date. For 6 MONTHS. He was always going out of town “on business.” Um, okay. I think she broke up with him and then he asked her out again for a Wednesday night. And she accepted!

“Love is blindness,” or rather, infatuation makes you spineless. It’s not something we can help; it just is. We are. Nothing to be proud of. Just reality. And you may as well take advantage of it.

I’m not saying that you should go out and cheat on your boyfriend. Or go out and gain forty pounds. I’m just saying that if she likes you, you don’t need to sweat every little accessory choice, stray nose hair or occasional boil. Chances are, she’ll find it “cute.”