relationships + sex articles

no excuse for bad manners

A friend of mine who was a therapist in a half way house described an incident where this big burly nut-bar barged into a group therapy session hollering and waving his arms around. He was like a beefy Hell's Angels guy, and he was having one of his meanie episodes that would have scared the bejeezus out of even most tough cookies.

"Use your manners, would ya?" said the the group leader. "Turn around and come back in quietly."

And in mid-rage, huffing and puffing, buddy just stopped. Calmly. "Oh. Okay then." And he left the room, re-opened the door, walked in and sat down in the nearest empty seat. Quietly.

Standards work wonders.

When we routinely justify people's poor behavior, we block the chances for change to occur. Excuses repress clarity. I worked with someone for too long who was bi-polar manic depressive and we always chalked up their behavior to their illness. We let them off the hook for all sorts of crappy behavior. But nasty is nasty, and mean is mean, and my standards are higher than that.

So next time your mother is a bit well, you know how she gets. Or your typically grouchy neighbor is a grouch. Or your always-under-a-lot-of-stress boss loses her cool because she's so understandably stressed... Call it at face value, all afflictions, dispositions and psych 101 labels aside.

Common sense is a mighty powerful thing.

 

nothing says ‘i love you’ like lipgloss

June Cleaver was a doormat. I’m a door-slammer.

But we have one thing in common: we both believe that you should dress for your man. I’ve never met my guy at the door in something lacy (but it’s on my to-do list.) I don’t own a pair of foofoo slippers. And ever since my boobs went south after breastfeeding, I had to retire my glittery tube tops. But...I’m no slob either.

European women have us pinned to the mat in the “make an effort” category. They make North American women look like...slobs in Crocs and ponytails and sweatpants. I think that va-va-va-voom we mustered up to get the man, too often fades. And va-va-va-voom is good for the soul.

I vowed to myself when I got married that I would forever endeavor to be The Sexy Wife. I would not let myself go. It’s not easy. I gained about fifty pounds with my first baby. There were times when I was too broke to buy a pretty new bra, in which case, hi-lights and a bikini wax were also out of the question. I worked sixty-hour weeks for months and raised a toddler that didn’t really sleep. But no matter I remember my sexy wife vow and before the hunk came home, I'd whip some goop in my hair, dab on my amber oil, and get some lip-gloss on my kisser. I still looked exhausted, but I my devotion made up for the circles under my eyes.

Sparkle Determination ripples out. Your appearance tells the world how to treat you. When you take care of yourself, life tends to pitch in. When you aim to shine, life pays proper attention to you - and that includes your lover boy (or girl.)

And lest you think I’m taking the feminist movement back two decades, know that I expect that same Look Fine Commitment from my dude. He knows that his chances of getting lucky increase with spicy cologne, a pressed linen shirt, and by wearing the silver bracelet that I got him from India.

Even June Cleaver would swoon.

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classic koans from cohen

{if you're reading this via email or RSS, click title to view the video clip.}

So many truths and lies and dichotomies packed into 48 seconds, Leonard style.
xo

 

romance analysis: 3 intense films

Revolutionary Road
Kate Winslet + Leonardo DiCaprio

Snared between conformity and their mutual aching for vitality, Frank and April take the fight of their lives out on eachother. It's a brilliant perspective of the bitterness that comes with compromise and how love manages to spring from the cracks.

I love this line from wife to husband:
"Tell me the truth, Frank, we used to live by it. And you know what's so good about the truth? Everyone knows what it is however long they've lived without it. No one forgets the truth Frank, they just get better at lying."

Bam.

Blind Date {click on the title to watch a film clip}
Stanley Tucci + Patricia Clarkson

In an attempt to heal the wounds of their marriage caused by the death of their child, Donald and Jenna plot blind dates with each other. The complexities of their pain and striving desire are driven by an excellent script and set against the back drop of a Moulin Rouge-esque bar - which makes the film compelling in every way. The ending is fearless and shocking. And FYI, this indi film was shot in Belgium with only a seven-day shoot, and a year and a half for rehearsal.

Crazy Love
A documentary: Lawyer Burt and Linda from the Bronx fall in love. Burt's a double crossing sleaze and Linda dumps him. Burt hires bad guy to throw lye on Linda's poster girl face. "If I can't have her, nobody will." She goes blind, he goes to the slammer. When he gets out, they get married. CRAZY.

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love sucks, but you can’t beat it

WARNING: if you're a hopeless romantic, searching for Prince Charming or Miss Marvelous, you better leave now. Because I'm about steamroll any Disney-drenched happily-ever-after scenarios. I'm starting my engine. Go now while your ideals are still in tact. You can get yourself some Danielle Steel on Kindle.

Okay...I warned you.

"What's with everyone going on about the 'hard work' of marriage?" I used to think. "If it's so hard it musn't be true love. True love has a meant-to-be-ness about it that's gotta make everything easier. Like, if it's THAT hard, then it just ain't right. Right?" Uh huh.

My relationship with my own self is complicated, how could I expect it to be simple with another? But I was single at the time. My panties matched my bras, my principles matched my big hair, and I my astronomical phone bills matched my knack for getting involved with men who lived on the other side of the country. {The long distance fed my romantic longings. Longing. Always lonnnging.}

I've done some homework since then. Home. Work.

THE SHITTY FACTS MY RELATIONSHIP RESEARCH HAS SURFACED:

: I don't know a single couple with an easy, let alone blissful, marriage. Okay. ONE couple: Donna and Brad. But they met when they were in their late forties. Brad's wife had passed away. Donna was just out of a long termer. Within months of declaring their total and utter devotion, Brad discovered that he had cancer. They fought it with every alternative therapy known, and every dime and ounce of faith they had. They're still going strong. It really is the stuff of love stories.

But back to the rest of us normal, non-Buddhist schmucks who got hitched earlier in life...

: Most of my married friends have seriously considered leaving their mates more than once. {Note to the hubby of my friend: I'm not talking about you. Really, you're the total exception dude.}

: Within just the first year of marriage, at least half of my married friends and acquaintances thought to themselves, "What the hell have I done?"

: Of all the longtime wed folks I've surveyed, each reported long, hellish periods in their relationship where they were merely enduring each other to get by.

Bubbles burst. Dreams steamrolled. Imperfections and cruelties of life glaringly clear. Crap facts noted. Love stinks.

And love keeps going in spite of it all.

THE DELIGHTFUL, SWEET AND RADIANT FACTS MY RELATIONSHIP RESEARCH HAS SURFACED:

: I have friends whose confessed infidelities cycloned through their lives. And they sorted through the wreckage to build something better than before. "The affair was the best thing that ever happened to us."

: Couples who rallied to beat addictions, who sweat and toiled to over come them like farmers fight blight - tirelessly, without rest, because everything depends on victory.

: One of my wisest friends figures that it took about thirty years for him and his wife to simply be nice to each other. Now there is a euphoria in their familiarity. A grace has settled in. He says that sometimes it's magical.

So if you're out there thinking that the smoochy hot couple has got it easy, ha! Think again. If you're down to a teaspoon of hope, envying the love stories on the other side of the fence, remember that while they were smiling for the cameras, Joanne Woodward was putting up with Paul Newman's boozing in the early years. Fridah Kahlo's beloved Diego chased skirts all through Mexico and New York. Cleopatra waited a long time for her man.

Love and doubt aren't exclusive. In fact, they can be the most fantastic dance partners. Give and take. Trust and turn.

Bliss requires sweat.

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meet someone exactly where they are

"You can’t stay in your corner of the forest waiting for others to come to you.
You have to go to them sometimes."
- Winne the Pooh

She has a tendency to panic. Makes it hard to trust her.
He is chronically greedy. Grew up dirt poor. Money is everything.
She is a channel of pure wisdom, a naturally gifted seer.
He is a genius, able to connect vast intellectual concepts.
She is fragile, new, and green to the concept of cause and affect.
He is angry, wounded, perpetually antagonistic.

People are where they are - despite our desire for them to be further along, more evolved, more fun, closer to our level, less intimidating, more relatable, easier to access, or simply more like us.

If you take the desire for someone to be different out of the equation - you can meet them where they are. You can meet them in the real moment. You can meet them in their despair or their magnificence.

And when you truly meet them, with no wishing for something different to wedge you apart, you'll know what to do. You will have the compassion to be calming, the humility to be reverent, or the wisdom to walk away. The question becomes, how would you treat "wounded," or "rage," or "brilliance"? Not how would you help (or coerce, or plead with) someone be more healed, or less angry, or more down to earth.

They are where they are. Consider the facts, spare yourself the desire for change. Remove the friction of wanting to improve them. And engage. It's the only way change happens.

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what would love do?

We crave it. We die for it. We try to pay for it. We aspire, we mire, we miss the mark. In the unending, coiling, incessant pursuit of being right and good enough to find love and get love and give love, we forget about the very nature of love itself.

Love gets buried beneath political correctness and spirituality; behind "I" statements and neutrality; tradition, company policy, apparently healthy boundaries and self protection; and commonsense. The understandable, habitual structures of thought that keep our egos from being derailed can effectively keep love on the other side of the tracks.

Maybe before we cross-check ourselves against the rules and what's familiar and acceptable, we should root ourselves down into a more elegant measurement of behavior: "What would Love do?" It's a question that burns away the mist and the noise. It stops clocks. "What would Love do?" Even cynics have to pause. You can say that love doesn't have a place in court or international relations or economics. But Love isn't stupid.

And Love isn't blind. She isn't a push over. When you make Love the first priority you're taking your place in true power. When you Love yourself first, you can balance the scales. Love knows what harmony feels like, and doesn't care so much what it looks like on the outside, or to others. She is centered and inclusive. Love is frequently dignified -- unless she's required to flip her lid. He is gentle and strong. He bends -- unless what's best is to digs his heels in. She rewards. He comforts. He strikes. She waits. He speaks. She is silent.

So try it out. It may feel awkward. Before a big meeting, when you're shopping, before you dump the chump, when it seems clear that the only game to play is hardball, ask, "What would love do?" Love may still choose to play hardball -- "ruthless" and "loving" are not mutually exclusive terms -- and we should know that if we are going to make any progress at all. Love may make demands. Love may crumble in apology, love may weep with humility and grace. She may run into burning buildings. He may genuflect.

Love knows what's best for every situation.
Love transcends policy and history.
Love innovates.
Love is everything we've been asking for.

 

a love poem for scotty

I was looking for holes in you.
I found windows.

xo
Danielle

 

how to apologize

Yesterday’s article, "Sorry? Only Say It If You Mean It," elicited some good thinking and rambling. Like this from White Hot reader, "S", who said:

“... A sister has stopped speaking to me 'unless I apologize.' I could say I'm sorry just to have her back in my life and to soothe things over, but it would be a sell-out. It has been her pattern to "create" victimhood in her life, giving her a reason to always be angry. I am breaking my lifelong habit of enabling her.”

“I demand an apology!”
If you have to demand it, is it really worth receiving? As I said to S., forced apologies are kind of like nice plastic. Shiny, maybe even useful, but ultimately, just trash.

For a long time, I wanted an official kind of apology from my husband for some jerk-like tendencies he was trying out on me. It was pretty typical Mars/Venus stuff. I wanted a demonstration of groveling to make things all right and copacetic. Which, of course, made me the total jerk.

A friend said to me, "Is it really necessary that he says he’s sorry?" Hmmm...I had to think about that one. If my priority was groovy-hot-happy-love, then, well, I suppose lording the “you must apologize” flag over his head wasn’t going to get me what I really wanted. We were making strides, even without the fanfare of a big I'm sorry. I let it go. It was a big shifter for us.

HOW TO APOLOGIZE

1. Say it with your body: Arms uncrossed, looking someone in the eyes, leaning toward them. You are not there to protect yourself or get something in return. This is not about you. You are there to give ... to give comfort, assurance, and some salve for the wound you may have inflicted. An apology is an offering.

2. Take full responsibility: Explain yourself very briefly, without being defensive or without taking up too much space: “I was under a lot of pressure and it screwed up my better judgment. Still, it’s no excuse.” (more...)

 

the ask-a-friend survey. take a deep breath and just send it.

Oh would some power the gift give us, to see ourselves as others see us!
- Robert Burns

To be truly witnessed is a mighty thing. When we are recognized and validated by someone else, that moment of communion becomes it’s own little “satellite of love,” as Lou Reed might say. Objectivity is a powerful thing. Objectivity + love can rewrite your whole storyline.

Recognition doesn’t have to be glowing to be powerful. Sometimes having a well-intentioned heart standing next you to say, “I see what you’re going through and man, it sucks,” can be the most helpful thing to hear. And then there are those gemstones that someone plucks out of the heap of our shabby self-perceptions to say that we are stronger than we think, more talented than we give ourselves credit for, and that we’ve come a long way, baby.

Have you ever asked a good friend what they think of you?

Just that simple ... and terrifyingly profound, it goes way beyond, “So like, what do you think of my new haircut? Too short?” Asking someone who loves you how they actually perceive you is an act of deep vulnerability and courage that could open a new route to your fullness - like a doorway hidden behind ivy that you've been too busy to find.

THE WHITE HOT TRUTH ASK-A-FRIEND SURVEY
Sometimes another perspective can create a quantum leap for us. So take a deep breath and...just ask. Yeah, it's a risk, but value is often proportionate to risk. Send your friend a link to this, paste it into an email, pour yourself a glass of wine and pick up the phone.

: What do you think is my greatest strength?
: How would you describe my style?
: What do you think I should let go of?
: When do you feel that I am at my best? (more...)