men

COM.PRO.MISE

ˈkämprəˌmīz/
noun
1) Settle a dispute by mutual concession. (In my opinion this is ABSOLUTELY the cornerstone of a happy relationship. Pick your battles, people)

synonyms: meet each other halfway, come to an understanding, make a deal, make concessions, find a happy medium, strike a balance; give and take.
“we compromised” (yes, yes, yes, yes and yes!)
(And my personal favorite, agree to disagree, Relax! we’re not attached at the hip)

2) Accept standards that are lower than is desired.
(What? No! ABSOLUTELY NOT That is NOT what it means to compromise. No wonder people are still single. Jeez)

My sweet darling, husband and I are celebrating our thirteenth wedding anniversary today.

We met and fell in love late in life. I was 42. He was 47.

He is a wonderful man, but he is curmudgeon.
He has a giant heart, surrounded by a hard, opinionated, veneer …wrapped in bacon.

When a friend asked me today what the difference was between people who marry late and the people who never marry at all…I said:compromise.

Don’t get all pissed off, sit down and hear me out.

I think the people who wait and wait and then never find the “right person”, believe that the second definition is true.

I did for a while. I thought compromise meant I had to lower my standards.

“No way! I will not! I want what I want, and I will not rest until I have dated every guy in LA (it just felt like it) to find the man of my dreams. He must be perfect in EVERY way.”

Good luck with that Janet.

And like the amazingly flexible person that I was; I wanted my life to stay exactly the same…except exponentially better.
More love, more travel, more money, definitely more sex, more friends, more, more, more, more, blah, blah, blah, blah.

I was willing to give up…nothing.

“GIVE UP something to be with a man? Nope, if that’s the case, then he’s just not the right guy for me.”

My husband is a contractor, and he espouses his Triangle Theory and assures all his clients that THIS is the way things work in the world. It goes like this:

Money + Time + Quality
When building something, you can only have two out of the three.
Quality is not cheap.
Fast is not cheap.
Quality takes time and costs money.

Cutting corners either in cost or time spent, sacrifices quality.
It is impossible to get all three.

Along the way I slowly and clumsily learned this lesson.
Compromise became my co-pilot.
Was everything on my list REALLY non-negotiable?

Here’s my triangle from back in the day.

Gorgeous, and artsy = unemployed.
Rich and smart = hooker fucker
Rat faced but kind = the guy you date in between rich and smart; gorgeous and artsy.

You just can’t get the Prince Charming trifecta.
You can get damn close, and that’s okay.
It’s NOT settling. It’s being a grown up and realistic.
Just like I’m realistic, acknowledging that I’m no prize.
I’m only two out of three, and that’s okay (can you guess which?)

Is it a compromise if your two out of three match your beloveds?
I think not.

Carry on, know that there is someone out there for you.
Do you want to be right…or happy?
Stop looking for perfect.
It’s highly over rated.
And expensive.

Love, love,
Xox

Here is my disclaimer right up front: This is a story about a very shallow girl…me, and how a list, a good friend, and some abracadabra, helped me manifest my true love.

At the point where my story begins, it’s the year 1999 and I have known Wes for about five years. We first met at the channeling group of a mutual friend.

Let me stop right here.
Wes is drop-dead gorgeous! He is a 6’3″ tall, dark, handsome, drink of water. When I first saw him at this friend’s house, I thought to myself: Okay, Spiritual practice, now you’re talkin’, because, up until that moment it had mostly been women that showed up for these things or men who still lived with their mothers.

He and I made goo-goo eyes at each other and tried not to burst out laughing at some of the questions that were asked. I know – Not my proudest moment.

We thought EVERYTHING was hilarious.
Wes is very chill about all this spiritual stuff. He doesn’t take any of it too seriously, which I love, and we had a lot in common. We had read all the same books, had a very similar spiritual practice, had the same twisted, warped sense of humor…and both loved men.

Sad, but true.
So, I was the Grace to his Will.
We loved each other madly, with no extra benefits.

After the crash and burn of yet another one of my romantic relationships, instead of saying, “I told you so” Wes suggested going to our channel friend for a session with just the two of us. He was also newly single at the time and felt we could get some good one-on-one advice, without other people asking if their dead Aunt was speaking to them through their cat.

At this session “they” suggested we each make a list of the attributes our beloved should possess, after which we should meet and give that list to the other, for them to use as kind of “manifestation template.”

Before I go on, I want to add this little side note:
I thought it would be a good idea at the time to take all of my ex’s cards, pictures, etc. and burn them. I would then scatter the ashes to the wind, giving the Universe a smoke signal that there was now a boyfriend void to fill.

With my right shoulder cradling the phone, I took Wes outside with me, along with my box of memories and a lighter. It was about 8 p.m., cold and dark and lightly drizzling, which I thought was a good sign.
I put everything on a large stone in the middle of my wet patio and lit it up. After a couple of minutes, there was a good little fire going, and I watched our smiling faces and birthday cards filled with his once loving words, melt before my eyes. Trouble was, a significant breeze had picked up and started swirling a small tornado of embers all around me! I was screaming and trying to get away, but the lost love delivery system, disguised as burning paper, was in my hair, my face, and my mouth and burning tiny holes in my flannel nightgown. All the while, Wes laughed hysterically into my ear!

So…
We met at an Italian restaurant, and armed with a bottle of Chianti courage, we exchanged our Relationship Lists and decided to read each other’s out loud, to gain clarity.
Big mistake…Huge.

He read mine first:
Affectionate…okay
Passionate….yep
Funny….critical
Loves sex….um…
Loves my cats….he glanced up at me and winced
Loves a lot of sex….gulp
Snappy dresser…..really?
Enormously wealthy…Shallow, I warned you!
Blah, blah, blah.

Hearing them out loud was literally painful. My face was on fire with humiliation.
Wes was laughing so hard he had to hold a napkin to his mouth, tears streaming down his face.

Then it was my turn to read his list:
Concerned about the planet…okay.
Philanthropic…of course
Self confidant…uh huh
Belief in a higher power…shit!
Nurturing…I want that!
Concern for my well being…give me my F*cking list back!

My light and funny friend surprised me, his list was seriously great! It was honest and deep and full of heart.

Mine was crap. Where’s a candle? It NEEDED to catch fire!
I was lunging across the table, trying to grab my ridiculously shallow list back, but he put it in his pocket and kept it.

And then, my magical, mystical, friend manifested the perfect man for me.
In a year.

That is the actual list above…I have no pride.
Wes found it in a box during a recent move, framed it, and gave it to me for my birthday last year.

I have yet to manifest a significant other for him….have you seen his standards?!
Xox