I'm Ready For Love-- Oh, Baby I'm Ready For Love

This past year has helped me more than I was ready to realize!

I made a statement in class one week months ago wherein I asserted that every relationship everyone has ever had... has FAILED. I did make an exception for current relationships. It was a no-brainer statement, I thought... after all, if you were once in a relationship, and are no longer in that relationship, than it makes sense that the relationship has failed, right?

Wrong.

After a hotly contested battle of words, I was helped to realize that these associations did not FAIL; no, they simply ENDED. Of course, some of them DID fail, and magnificently so; there are some people who are simply not ready to give of themselves to the point of success in a connection. Saying goodbye while holding a gun on your partner smacks of spectacular failure...

As an example, I'm reminded of a comment made one afternoon decades ago by a relationships expert, on an episode of Sally Jesse Raphael or Montel Williams or Maury Povitch-- they said "In a relationship, both people should always give 60% of themselves, but only expect 40% from their partner."

Wise words. In effect, the expert warned that relationships should NOT  be 50-50; they should actually be 60-60, which I imagine would work very well for most couples, except maybe for a pairing of mathematicians who just couldn't wrap their heads around that particular solution.

In our ego-centric culture, it's not surprising that people are often holding out on giving that extra 10%-- they figure, 'Why should I? My significant other isn't!' For most aspects of life they would be right, but love connections are a special animal that allows us to think of others before ourselves... if we're doing it right, that is.

As a matter of fact, if you're ever wondering 'do I actually love this person?', your answer might be found in your actions-- DO you give more of yourself than you expect from your mate? Do you place all the collected actions in the relationship up to a microscope to determine who is giving more... who is the 'better' mate?

Here's a secret: If you put your relationship on a balance scale to find the 'winner', there isn't going to be one-- just a couple of 'losers'.

Well, here's one 'loser' that plans to 'win' the next time I jump on that bandwagon. I'm all about the learning and growth. Which, I will freely admit, is a big change for me.

If you were to ask me why I married my (now EX) wife while we were still married, I would say "Because I love her!" But if you were to ask me after a long night of drinking with my buddies, I would probably 'fess up with, "Because she has the best ass I have ever seen."

Not only would that be true, it would show a remarkable amount of immaturity on my part. But no more or less than my ex wife, who would have answered the question with, "Because he has great moneymaking potential." You see, we were BOTH immature, and getting married for SO the wrong reasons.

Although... in a historical sense, we both got married for exactly the RIGHT reasons! In humanity's past, potential mates were judged for their ability to contribute to survival (moneymaking potential) and the ability to produce a strong stock of children (good physical form). Of course, in the past there would be no divorce and we would stay married until death... or until one of us killed the other... which I guess, actually is 'until death', huh?

But NOW is not THEN. Now we get married (if we're smart) based on how well we get along, how much respect we have for one another... and how horny the other makes us (yeah, that one is still true, at least).

There was a time in the mid 1990's after I divorced my wife when I was looking for a woman who did NOT have any particular sexuality to me, because I thought it was that reason which caused me to choose my last mate poorly. I dated a nice person for a couple of years, but the relationship ultimately fail-- oops, I mean ENDED-- because there was NO SEX! She may have been just average-looking to me, but the way I treated her made her feel as though she were a pariah, or at least a bridge troll. That was unfair to her. We parted, but we are still on good terms-- I fessed up to her, using only the most circumspect of terms, and won her respect because of my honesty. Still, I felt like an enormous jerk, and vowed to be more open in the future.

Now I find myself free again; humbled yet wiser, modest and hopeful. I feel too old to receive trembling, heart-thumping love again; the best I hope for is a comfortable coexistence. But I worry, too- have I become too set in my ways to accept someone, anyone at all, living an entire life with ways completely their own? And although I'm not looking for a cover girl nor runway model, many of the eligible women my age have given up to the terrors of time and remind me of my dear departed grandma-- wonderful people though they might be, I feel too youthful to align with someone not my own mental age. The women who look the age I feel, I fear, not only don't remember that Paul McCartney was in a band before Wings; they don't even know who Paul McCartney IS!

Quite a quandary I find myself in. Of course, there's always my ex-wife; the mother of my child, the tortured soul whose head I creased with a soda can-- a regrettable move that began this whole journey of court-ordered self-exploration-- who constantly hints that we will end up growing old together. Knowing our relationship the way I do, I can't envision any future with her that doesn't end with a gun to my own temple, and her (or myself) holding the trigger. No, that's not going to happen, although I see us remaining casual friends until our natural (!) deaths.

I'm also feeling a little sorry for myself. My once-firm keg has become soft (I'm certain there once was a six-pack under it all, but no more); the rich mane of hair I sported in my 20's now resembles the fuzz on Phil Spector's head (Hm. Maybe I shouldn't reference Phil Spector in an Anger Management Blog); and the deep valleys and crags of my rock-climbing youth I now wear on my face for all to see. So no, I no longer look like Superman('s plumber), more like his Chia Pet. But I hear women of all ages appreciate self-deprecating humor, so I have a leg up in this Quest For (romantic) Fire.

No judgement, please. If you are in the market for a funny, smart, usually sweet recovering canoholic, I may be exactly right for you. I enjoy long sits at the beach, shuffleboard on the Lido Deck and dinner at 4:30. I am passionate about the grape-- a tall glass of red Welch's makes any meal a treat. Hobbies include staring out the window and staring at my silent phone. As a gourmet, I love the delicate flavor of strained Canadian bacon and Kaopectate. Call me! My number is Murray Hill 3. Gladys the operator can connect you.

Oh, and don't worry. An earring in the RIGHT ear means gay. One in the left just means I wanna be a PIRATE, and I'm keeping it. No ARRRguments.