First, a confession. For the first 40 years of my life, I
did not feel worthy to be truly loved. I projected an aura of superiority and
self-confidence, but inside felt unlovable and undesirable. A lot of women do.
We internalize slights from middle and high school and hold ourselves to
impossibly high standards. We find ourselves lacking.
What cured me of self-loathing? At first it was becoming a
musician and singing out publicly – finding a passion and that audiences
liked me, they really liked me, as Sally Field once said. This flew in the face
of the old story about being unattractive.
Secondly, it was going through a painful, unwanted divorce. To heal I needed to fully love myself, faults and all. Early in the separation a memorable moment occurred in front of a full-length mirror when I assessed my body and
finally embraced its beauty, uniqueness and flaws. I loved it – and me,
completely.
Loving myself was an important step to being loved, but
before dating, I also needed to map out what a successful relationship would
look like, so I created a vision statement for my new life. It painted a verbal picture of my new home; the atmosphere,
art and music that would live there – the social life, vacations and
spirituality I’d pursue.
I also envisioned the man in my life. He would be kind,
hospitable, generous and fit. I imagined a mutually loving relationship with a
good deal of sex and affection. I wanted a man who adored me, would lay it all
down for me, put me first and powerfully desire me. I shot not only for the
stars but the whole dazzling Milky Way before even setting one foot in the dating
swamp. This became the road map for my future.
A dear friend who had been single for many years warned about
the lack of prospects in our hometown. “There are no good men. They are all
taken. The only ones left are losers. Trust me – I’ve dated them.”
I envisioned better for myself. I reckoned it was only a
matter of time before Mr. Right came into my life. The key was to not be
entangled with Mr. Wrong when he finally appeared. The more I loved myself, the
easier it was to lose the Mr. Wrongs. And while setting the bar high might result
in singlehood, alone and happy was better than coupled and miserable. The bar
stayed high.
It didn't drop with that first man I dated who noted I was
“loving and feminine onstage, but vulgar and boorish offstage.” He was shown
the door.
It remained high with the wealthy man who was not smart
enough to recognize my power and intellect. He was stopped at the second date.
Most importantly, the bar didn’t come down when dating the well-off,
fit and sexy plumber who had anger and jealousy problems. It was sad, but I
ended it and was alone again.
Dave was not an obvious choice. He was a recent widower of a
dear family friend. He was an artist like I was and quiet, probing, funny and
smart. We started out as supportive friends with no thought of dating while I
kept looking for Mr. Right.
To our surprise, over time our friendship became romantic.
We were remarkably compatible, sharing interests in art, theater and music. We
both loved to read, travel, entertain and wanted to create a house filled with
love, respect and generosity.
Most important, Dave wanted me – was willing to do anything
to get me. Nothing came before me. The more he loved me, the lower my defenses
became and the more I loved him back.
Newly single, I had despaired that oft-quoted “statistic”
that a middle-aged woman had as much chance of remarrying as getting struck by
lightning. That was a mindset of scarcity and desperation. Instead, I determined
there would be abundance and love in my new life, if not specifically a new
man.
But, it turned out that accepting myself fully, envisioning
my ideal life and keeping high standards became the magic path to the love of
my life.
