an experiment in love

My ability to love is one of my greatest strengths. In the past I viewed it like a superpower and saved my love for when it’s needed (making sure I Used My Power For Good). But I didn’t allow myself to goof off with it and just have a good time. Think about it: Wonderwoman must have flown her invisible jet to the Caribbean for a weekend, and when no one was looking, I guarantee you Spiderman made trampolines out of his webs. So instead of over-focusing on Finding The One or Getting The Love I Need or Calling In Mr. Right, I decided it was time to be as loving as I can on a regular basis. You know, for kicks.


Luckily, I think I’m on the right path. I was recently told how incredibly loving I am – from someone who wasn’t even in love with me! So this is good.

The difference between how I see it now and how I’ve seen it in the past is the result. I’ve been afraid to love if there’s even the slightest chance I won’t be loved in return. But that’s just a game of chicken. Why wait for the other person to dive first? Why not just practice loving and see what happens?

I came across a couple of articles recently that really spoke to being loving instead of being loved. Robert Holden posted a lovely piece on The Daily Love that talked about what happens when two people looking for love find each other: nothing. They may find infatuation and be tempted to think it’s love, but it falls apart. “If, however,” he says, “you are committed to being the most loving person you know, you will attract someone who is committed to living on that wavelength too. And, when two people – who are committed to being the love they are looking for – finally meet, they will find love.”

(Hooray!)

Another piece that caught my eye was by Margaret Paul, Ph.D., an author who specializes in relationships. She posted ten signs that you’re really in love (and not just infatuated) and the one that stood out to me was number four:

You receive deep joy in giving to your beloved.

Her focus is more on being supportive and not begrudging your partner any of the work you do on his or her behalf, but I see it as the same thing – you get great pleasure out of loving your partner (not out of being loved by your partner).

It’s a new perspective and a new experiment, so I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.

acceptance and forgiveness

I feel like acceptance and forgiveness are like the chicken and the egg -- which comes first?

I have a friend, who, when he was my boyfriend, dumped me three different times.  The first time he dumped me because he got a promotion at work and was too busy to see me.  The second time he dumped me because he freaked out and felt so overwhelmed by his life that he couldn't make time in it for me.  And the third time he dumped me, surprise surprise, he didn't have time for me.

The first two times, I forgave him (obviously), but I didn't accept that the way he was (and the reasons for which he was dumping me) wasn't going to change.  I thought, "oh, if only he gets a less stressful job," or "if only he chose to make having a relationship a priority, this could work."  Except that that's not who he is.  Work is his priority.  No matter how much he talks about wanting a relationship (and he does), until that core value of his changes, he won't have one.  Or at least not with me.

The third time he dumped me, however, I went beyond forgiveness into acceptance.  I finally saw him for who he is, for where he is, and for what he's capable of now, not in some distant, magical future.  I let go of his potential, and accepted his actual.  The funny thing is, I don't know how I did it.  All I know is that it's done.

He came to me recently and told me he had a choice between a job that would be less demanding (but potentially more spiritually fulfilling -- yay!) and one that would be more demanding (but potentially soul-crushing -- boo!).  I knew immediately which he would choose, even though I was hoping he could find it in himself to choose the other one.  When he told me, he was worried I would be disappointed in him.  And while I'll admit I was sad that he was going to miss another opportunity to take his life in a new direction,  I wasn't the least bit disappointed in him.  Because I can now accept him for who he is.

In this case, forgiveness came before acceptance.  Three times.

However, I'm struggling with a non-romantic relationship right now, and I'm feeling pulled to accept before forgiving.  I know the situation won't change.  I know that.  But I'm finding it hard to give up hope that it will.  And that hope is addictive.  It's alluring.  And it's what leads me straight to disappointment.

When I write it out, it seems perfectly clear:  If I can accept that things won't change and I can forgive this person for being who he is (and not being who I want/hope/need him to be) then I'm scott free.  If I can let that hope die, then I can also rid myself of the disappointment.

So why am I having such a hard time with it?  Did the chicken have this much trouble with the egg?

making peace with peanut butter

I  confess: I love peanut butter with a fierce, burning love that should probably be reserved for a soul mate, or, you know, a person (or a pet – you know, something that can love me back). The sweet saltiness, the salty sweetness. Not even its being one of the few foods that can’t be dislodged by the Heimlich maneuver will dissuade me from my faith in its perfection.
I. Love. Peanut Butter.
Now, I’m sure you’re thinking “Kate, that’s not burning love, that’s food obsession.” But you’re wrong! I mean, it’s not like I stay up every night, dreaming of peanut better. And I don’t bathe in it (much) or talk about it (daily) or carry pictures of it in my wallet (though that’s not a bad idea). I’m not nuts! (heh heh)

It’s just that, up until about six weeks ago, if there was peanut butter in my house, I would consume it. Rapidly. By the spoonful. While standing next to the pantry door. Drooling. (It was not pretty.)

So I never bought peanut butter. Safer to just not have it in the house than to risk the 47,000 calories I was likely to consume in a sitting, like I did whenever visiting my mother, who, surprisingly, doesn’t have the same obsession. (My sister, though, suffers the same compulsion so perhaps it comes from my father’s side...)

I started reading a book called “Intuitive Eating” by Evelyn Tribole and Elyse Resch that talked about the dieting mentality and how food restriction doesn’t work. “When you rigidly limit the amount of food you are allowed to eat,” they wrote, “it usually sets you up to crave larger quantities of that very food.” So by not having peanut butter in the house, I was setting myself up for hours of drooling next to the pantry door.

Their advice? Slowly re-introduce any foods you have restricted and teach yourself that you are allowed to have them. Reset your inner calibration so that you can appreciate the food for what it is, and not for all the emotional baggage that saying no to it has meant. For me, the first choice was, of course, peanut butter.

I warily bought a jar of natural (because it’s the most deliciousest kind) and kept it in the cabinet. The first week? It was bad. I ate a lot of peanut butter. And the second week, too. The third week started to taper off a bit, because, let’s be honest, at least half the jar was gone, and the fourth week it dropped off even more. By the fifth and sixth weeks, there were maybe two or three spooonfuls just sitting in the jar, smiling at me.

I call that a success! A jar of peanut butter has never lasted six weeks in my house before!

So what did I learn? That yes, I go to peanut butter for comfort. And I go there because I’m not usually allowed to go there, so it makes me feel special. But once I could have it any time I wanted, some of the comfort left. I started to see it as a fuel. A delicious fuel, don’t get me wrong, but one that was in service of me, not the master of me.

Can I take this experiment to the next level and do it with ice cream? I’m not sure. In truth, it takes a lot of faith, and a willingness to put on a little weight in the service of making peace. And given that it’s hot AND bathing suit season, I may hold off on this experiment until December. But I’ve taken the message to heart – there’s nothing I can’t eat. And when I watch people around me dieting and worrying about what they eat, I wonder if they, too, will sometime soon, find themselves next to the pantry door, overeating in an effort to feel special.

"the best years of our lives are not behind us"

A few weeks ago, an article from the Yale Daily News made the rounds on Facebook.  A young, talented writer had some encouraging words about her experience at Yale that I think apply to us all, no matter how young or old we are, no matter whether we went to Yale or didn't.  She says:

But let us get one thing straight: the best years of our lives are not behind us. They’re part of us and they are set for repetition as we grow up and move to New York and away from New York and wish we did or didn’t live in New York. I plan on having parties when I’m 30. I plan on having fun when I’m old. Any notion of THE BEST years comes from clichéd “should haves...” “if I’d...” “wish I’d...”

Of course, there are things we wished we did: our readings, that boy across the hall. We’re our own hardest critics and it’s easy to let ourselves down. Sleeping too late. Procrastinating. Cutting corners. More than once I’ve looked back on my High School self and thought: how did I do that? How did I work so hard? Our private insecurities follow us and will always follow us.

But the thing is, we’re all like that. Nobody wakes up when they want to. Nobody did all of their reading (except maybe the crazy people who win the prizes…) We have these impossibly high standards and we’ll probably never live up to our perfect fantasies of our future selves. But I feel like that’s okay.

Marina Keegan, 22, was set to graduate from college with more wisdom than some of us attain by 122.  Unfortunately, she never made it there, as she died in a car crash just days before commencement.   Her writing (which you can read the rest of here) is so full of hope, of encouragement, and stands as a reminder to the rest of us that it's never to late to do something about your dream.  To find those people who make up your web and be grateful for them every day.  And to spend more time with the boy across the hall and less time procrastinating.

how secrecy can kill intimacy

A million years ago I worked with a very smart therapist on some problems I was having with my boyfriend. She caught on quickly to the fact that instead of telling him how I felt, I was just smothering my anger until it was way too late to deal with the problem at hand. I was hoarding small infractions and stockpiling insults. By the time I started working with her, I didn't want to look at my boyfriend, let alone make out with him. And on top of that, I felt guilty about not wanting to smooch him anymore!

She told me something that I've hung onto all these millennia: nothing kills intimacy faster than secrecy. And the things you're keeping secret don't have to be big, guilt-inducing, gut-wrenching secrets. They can simply be things like not telling someone your feelings were hurt by the way he assumed you would do the dishes, or that you were furious at how he left his shoes in the middle of the floor even though you asked him not to a billion times because you trip on them on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

The more of these unvoiced issues I sat on, the further and further away my boyfriend drifted. But it was hard to feel like my concerns were valid in the moment. Did he mean to leave his shoes there? And did I really have a right to be angry about him being forgetful? It took a lot of courage for me to start to see that what I wanted mattered as much as what he wanted, and that if I mentioned my concerns at the moment they happened I was only annoyed, not angry. Luckily, he was receptive to my efforts to get things off my chest before they festered, and things improved.

In the long run, the relationship didn't last, but I was reminded of this lesson earlier this month when I went to visit a friend across the country. My friend is in her first trimester (read: barfy) and a mom to a toddler (read: exhausted) and trying to buy a home (read: overwhelmed). When I booked my ticket she wasn't pregnant yet, so we thought it would be a fun-filled, sunshiney visit. But as my departure date approached, she was sounding more and more worn out, and I was beginning to worry that instead of being a fun addition to her house for the weekend, I would be yet another thing she would have to take care of.

But I sat on that. She wanted to see me, right? She was the one who was exhausted and overwhelmed, why should I worry that she didn't want to see me when everything she said made it sound like she did? I wouldn't be more exhausting, would I? I vowed to myself that I would not be a hassle... and then worried silently that I would.

The day before my flight I had worked myself into such a tizzy of non-communication that I finally had to call her and get it off my chest. "I'm worried that I'll be a burden, that you won't have any fun with me, and that you'll barf on me!"

"Well, I'm worried that you won't have any fun with me, I won't feel well enough to play with you, and that I'll barf on you!"

As soon as the words were out of our mouths, we were laughing again, saying that we would be fine. Prior to connecting, though, there was tension. We were both fearful that we would be the cause of pain to the other. And the more we over-thought it without reaching out to one another, the more secrecy we had, and the less close we felt.

Did she barf on me? No. Did she feel well enough to play with me the whole time? No. But I was prepared for that, and connected to her, so it all worked out just fine. It's amazing what obstacles intimacy can overcome.

shhhhh! this contract is silent!

I was challenged recently to look at my silent contracts -- you know, the agreements we're abiding by that we've never really acknowledged as agreements. Roles we may not have signed up for but that we're playing nonetheless. Things like being a "good daughter" or "the fat sister" or "the problem solver." Some of them may be roles we want (like "the smart one" or "the pretty one") and some of them may be Sisyphean burdens that we roll up the hill of our lives day in and day out (like "the smart one" or "the pretty one").

The thing about silent contracts is that sometimes they're so silent, we don't even know we have them. I spent 30 years playing the role of "peacemaker" and "perfect daughter" not realizing that my family didn't need peace, and actually preferred me with a couple of flaws. The contracts or the roles we play can be positive, but usually they're sneakier than that. We can have silent contracts with ourselves (in fact, one could argue that's the only person they're with) but usually they're experienced in relationship to someone else.

My specific challenge? To look for places where the silent contract of being "the single one" may, in fact, be keeping me single.

Much to my surprise, I found a few.

First: Two of my best friends are married to each other. They have two sons, and five seats in their car. When they go on an adventure, there's always a seat for me. But not for my boyfriend. Is this keeping me single?

Second: My sister and brother-in-law say that I'm the only non-parental visitor that they can really tolerate. They think I'm cool and easy to get along with. But what about my boyfriend? Could he live up to that, too?

Third: The bedroom in my apartment is only big enough for a double bed. (Any bigger and you wouldn't be able to get around the foot of the bed into the rest of the house.) It gets crowded with someone else sleeping in there. Is that keeping me single?

These revelations in and of themselves are somewhat meaningless. The real question is what I want to do with this information. I'm certainly not going to stop being friends with my friends, or become an unacceptable houseguest for my sister. But I'm acknowledging that there are things to gain and things to lose whenever we give up a silent contract. I think, in this case, the gains would enough outweigh the losses. Which makes it worthwhile for me to still look for a partner.

Watch out, sis.

a word to the wise

Complete the sentence "When I am wise, I..."

What do you come up with? It's an interesting twist on the question of what makes up wisdom. This month, as I've been looking at wisdom, I've discovered there are times that I'm wise, and times I'm more of a wise-ass. The difference involves self-awareness, temperance, and pacing.

So, When I am wise, I:

-- have respect for myself.

This includes setting boundaries, acting in such a way as to have no regrets, and doing for myself what I want others to do. This means not playing the victim or waiting for someone to rescue me.

-- am deliberate, but not overwrought.

I focus on the actions I decide to take, but don't obsess over them. I am clear in my thinking, grounded in my sense of self, and slow down a bit. Often my first instincts are wise, but for me the wiser path is to look at them a little bit first.

-- am loving.

I had the opportunity recently to celebrate the birthday of someone I care about deeply. And while our friendship has been rocky and gone through the wringer a couple of times in the last year, I decided it was important (for both of us) to just show up and love him. Not Gone With the Wind or Wuthering Heights love, but open-hearted, soul-filling love. I set boundaries, was deliberate, and just opened my heart. It was one of the most beautiful days ever.

So what's it like when you are wise?

book review: The Five Love Languages

I can't believe I haven't written about this yet.

Seriously. How could I have gotten this far without it?

There's an amazing book that will change your life forever if you go out and read it. How do I know? As the saying goes, I'm not just the president, I'm also a member.

Gary Chapman has written an incredible book about the ways in which people express and feel love called The Five Love Languages. At a certain point, the book gets a little more God-and-Jesusy than I like, but before it gets there, he shares with us some observations about the way people love that have changed the way I both interpret people's behavior and express my own feelings.

Chapman's argument is that there are five major styles -- languages, if you will -- that people use to express their love. And those, in turn, influence the way people feel loved by other people.

Those five languages are these:

1. Acts of Service

Some people will DO THINGS for those they love. They will take on the chores they know disgust you, or go out of their way to perform a task for you, whether you've asked them to do it or not.

My father is a perfect example of this. Once, when I was incredibly sick (and a mere two blocks from the doctor's office), I called him hoping for some sympathy. My father, instead of telling me how much he loved me and letting me know I would be ok, immediately offered to get into the car, drive to where I was, and take me to the doctor. He was more than willing to take 3 hours out of his day to find me, chauffeur me to wherever I needed to go, and then go home. Because he understands love to be about DOING.

2. Words of Praise

Some people are moved to show their feelings by saying nice things. It could be as simple as "you look pretty" or as complex as a sonnet on the shine of your hair, it doesn't matter. Words of praise people will TELL you how much they love you.

I had a boyfriend once who fell into this category. He sent me the most romantic letters, poems, and emails. He spared no opportunity to speak to me with words that made me smile.

3. Quality Time

Still, others prefer stopping their world and making spending time with you the most valuable thing they could be doing at the moment. To these people, it doesn't necessarily matter what you do, just as long as you are BEING together.

I once had a boyfriend who found that time on the phone to his family was also quality time. What mattered to him wasn't the amount of time, but rather the intention behind the time -- making space to really connect with another person -- that mattered.

(This was a good thing, as he happened to live across the country from me, too.)

4. Physical Touch

These people are the huggers. They're the hand-holders, neck-nuzzlers, and back touchers. They're the ones who seek reassurance and connection through physicality. And it's not just about Naked Time. It could be sitting on the couch with his feet in your lap, or patting him on the head as you walk out the door. These people FEEL love physically.

5. Gifts

Gift people like to give things -- expensive or free -- to those they love. They collect and hand over presents that the object of their affection has either requested or not.

My mother is a perfect example of this. She always plies us with food or "something I saw at the store that made me think of you." I remember growing up and taking long car trips -- my mother would GIVE us a little something to unwrap every hour.

Odds are that you fall most strongly into one category or another. That doesn't mean you have to speak only one language, but that your main mode is likely to be only one of the above.

Me? I'm all about gifts. I love to give people presents, and I've been known to squeal with glee when someone gives me something that made them think about me while they were out and about. But I'm also into words of praise. After that, I'm probably acts of service, and then physical touch. Quality time is very difficult for me to understand -- why wouldn't you want to be with me all the time?? So it's best for me to go out with men who are either gifters or who understand the value of gifts to me.

And this is where it gets cool. When you know the five languages, you can choose to express yourself in any language, not just the one that makes the most sense to you. If you know your partner feels love through quality time, you can make an appointment with him or her. Conversely, you can interpret your partner's behavior -- wanting to spend a night with you -- as his or her way of expressing love.

Let's go back to my father for a minute. When I called him, I was looking for words of praise -- "You'll be ok," "I love you," that kind of thing. But my father hasn't read this book and doesn't know that his way of expressing and my way of feeling loved aren't the same. So it was up to me to interpret his act of service as love. Once I realized that he was sharing his love in the only language he spoke, I was able to hear how much he cared.

Similarly, with my Quality Time boyfriend. When I realized that his language was one I couldn't comprehend, I told him about the five styles. I told him I was more a gifts/words of praise kind of girl, and he tried to modulate his behavior to meet me there. And I tried to see his desire to spend time together as his way of saying he loved me.

This has been an incredible tool for me in understanding why people behave the way they do. Why, when all that matters to me is that you tell me I'm beautiful, are you always taking out the trash? Who cares about watching TV on Friday nights -- can't you just bring me home a tootsie roll?

And one of the really neat things to look at is whether or not you use your own love language on yourself. If you're a gifter, do you allow yourself to buy that sweater you can't stop thinking about? If you like words of praise, what kind of things do you say to the mirror? When do you schedule the quality time with yourself?

Forgive my oversight in not having posted this sooner. There's still time -- go out and buy this book! (See? I'm trying to gift it to you right now!)

the most perfect baby in the world

Watch out, because I'm about to brag.

I have the most perfect nephew in the entire universe. He's cute, hilarious, warm, sleepy, adorable, and the softest, sweetest lump ever created. And he's mine!

Over Thanksgiving, I was rocking him to sleep on my shoulder and his tiny little butt was tucked into my elbow, his sweet little breaths coming quickly and shallowly near my ear, and my heart just melted.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I looked at my sister.

"Do you ever just love him so much that it hurts?"

She looked at me with a smile and four months of Mommy Wisdom, and then I loved her so much that it hurt.

So, Kate, aside from the fact that he's perfect and you're lucky, who cares? Finding and connecting to that kind of pure love was so powerful, so clean and raw, I feel like it's something everyone should experience. It felt like a light shining from the depths of my heart onto the baby, and my sister, and my family, and me.

Maybe you're not into babies. That's fine. They're noisy and they poop a lot. I get it. What I'm saying is how important it is to really connect with something pure and something 100% love. If that's theatre, then see a show. If it's music, start playing. If it's writing, grab your pencil. And you don't have to marry it, or move in with it, or make it your life. (Lord knows I've turned down a free apartment in Boston more times than my sister has offered.) Just connect with it. Feel it. Let it shred you a little. The stitching back together feels incredible.

Hep Gleck!

(that title makes me feel like I'm blogging in Ikea. But don't worry, Hep Gleck can be assembled without pictures.)

I have a daily ritual that I perform on the subway -- I open up my journal, give myself an affirmation (for the last several months it's been "I have everything I need") and then set an intention for myself. Usually the intention is in alignment with something I'm working on -- patience, breathing, being present, not comparing myself to others, etc. -- and then I sit down and list five things I give myself credit for. After that, it's a list of things I'm grateful for, and a Daily To Do list. I've discussed all this before (see here) and bring it up again because my friend Jon recently introduced me to an even deeper practice that expands on this base.

It's called Hep Gleck.

Ok, no, it really isn't, but I like calling it that, so that's what I'm calling it.

Learned from a Tony Robbins book (but slightly unclear as to which one -- though I'm guessing now it's "Personal Power" as I got some help from this website in writing this post), Hep Gleck is actually an acronym that expands on the idea of listing things for which I am grateful and for which I am giving myself credit. Each letter stands for another feeling, and carries with it three questions. The feelings are:

Happy

Excited

Proud

Grateful

Loving

Enjoying

Committed to

Kate is Awesome

(Ok, there's no K in the acronym, but "Glec" doesn't look like a strong word, whereas "Gleck" does, so I added the K for phonetic reasons. Sue me.)

And the questions are:

1. What am I happy/excited/proud/grateful/loving/enjoying/committed to in my life?

2. What about that makes me happy/excited/proud/grateful/loving/joyful/feel committed?

3. How does that make me feel?

The key to this exercise, though, is to NOT JUDGE, and that's a caution I extend with big, red, wavy flags.

For example, this morning I wrote that I was grateful for sunsets.* So to deepen the experience using Hep Gleck, I would then ask what about sunsets makes me feel grateful? I could respond with "their beauty," or "the sense that the world is bigger than I am," or "just 'cause." And then I have to report with honesty and curiosity about how that makes me feel.

A trap I could easily see us all falling into** is being happy about something that truly makes us happy -- the way the driver of that car honked and waved at us on the way to the subway, finding the $20 bill on the street, having an awesome smoothie for breakfast -- and then judging the experience. What about that makes me feel happy? Well, he thought I was hot stuff, so I felt like hot stuff and that made me happy. It's a free $20, what's not to be happy about! The way the tastes blended together was so amazing. Watch out for then falling into despair with the "How does that make me feel" angle. I might be very tempted to go down the I-suck-because-I-need-some-guy-in-traffic-to-validate-my-feelings-of-hot-stuffedness road.

I'm going to try Hep Gleck. And Jon is, too. (Or at least I think he is.) Are you?

*Secretly, I wanted to write sunrises, but it's been EONS since I last saw a sunrise so that felt like stretching the truth.

** And by "us all," of course, I really mean "me," but I wanted to take you with me so I wouldn't be lonely.

intimacy, and how to get more of it

Many moons ago I went to a talk at the 92nd Street Y Tribeca on what science can teach you about falling in love. And the presenter, Robert Epstein, brought audience members on stage (myself and my friend included), asked them a bunch of benchmarking questions about the stranger they were with ("How close do you feel to this person? How much in love with this person are you? How attracted are you to this person?") and then put them/us through a series of exercises that they had shown drew people together.

And while it was hard to honestly answer questions about a total stranger in front of a room full of total strangers, I have to say that the exercises (if not the mortification of going through them together publicly) did draw me closer to the random stranger on stage with me.

As part of the takeaway from the event, they gave us a copy of the magazine in which the presenter's article appeared, and I recently unearthed it from my kitchen table. You can get a snapshot of the article here, on Scientific American's website, or you can google Robert Epstein and see what you get.

Here, however, are some highlights that I think are interesting, useful, and totally applicable right now -- not just with a romantic partner, but with anyone with whom you want to feel more intimate.

Ten things that make us feel more intimate:

1. Arousal -- not just sex, you dirty birds. Any kind of physical exertion or exposure to dangerous situations increases intimacy, say researchers. So if you want to get close, take your date on the Cyclone at Coney Island. He'll either love you on the spot or never want to see you again.

2. Proximity and Familiarity. When you let someone repeatedly invade your personal space, that increases feelings of closeness. Because, well, you're close.

3. Similarity. Sure, opposites attract, but likes ignite! (I made that up.) Personally, I'm discovering that going out with guys whose parents are still together (as mine are) is making a difference in our relationships. And shared values, senses of humor, and attractiveness keep the playing fields even.

4. Humor. This one's obvious, I think.

5. Novelty. Doing something new makes us more vulnerable, and vulnerability leads more quickly to intimacy. One of the things I do when planning a date is trying to go somewhere I've never been before. (Which, even in a city of six gajillion restaurants, can be surprisingly difficult!)

6. Removing Inhibitions. Yeah, ok, a glass of wine helps, but a bottle of wine doesn't. People who have difficulty being vulnerable and opening up often misuse alcohol in pursuit of that feeling of intimacy. So watch out!

7. Kindness, Accommodation, and Forgiveness. "Feelings of love can emerge quickly when someone deliberately changes his or her behavior -- say, by giving up smoking or drinking -- to accommodate our needs." I find it adorable when I tell guys I don't eat meat and they then order something vegetarian when we have dinner together -- even though I make it clear that they're free to eat whatever they want!

8. Touch and Sexuality. The obvious caveat applies here -- while touch and sensuality bring people closer together, people (mostly women, unfortunately) have a tendency to confuse sex with love. The author recommends even just getting very near to someone without actually connecting -- kind of a romantic I'm Not Touching You.

9. Self-Disclosure. People tend to bond when they share secrets. I love asking guys I go out with to tell me a secret. The only trick is coming up with one I'm willing to share. A recent date of mine once said, when I asked him if I could ask him a question, "You can ask me anything you want; you just have to be willing to answer it yourself."

10. Commitment. "People whose commitments are shaky interpret their partners' behavior more negatively, for one thing, and that can be deadly over time." I totally get this. When a guy makes it clear to me that he likes me, it's easier for me to forgive his not calling when he says he will. (See #7)

So go ahead, try these out and see how they play out. Grab your man/woman/dog/postal worker/neighbor's cousin's milkman/random stranger on the street and try these with him or her.*

*just kidding! try them with someone you know and actually want to have more intimacy with. duh.

just what I needed to see

This was shared with me at just the moment I needed it most. So in that spirit, I'm sharing it with you.

what's your positivity ratio?

Yesterday I was on a webinar called "Boost Your Happiness Through Evidence-Based Activities," and, while it was kind of a cheesetastic hour, there was one exercise I came out of it with that I found interesting and worth sharing.

It's about your positivity ratio.

Think about the last 24 hours. And in the last 24 hours, have you felt any of the following:
Amazement
Amusement
Gratitude
Hope
Interest
Inspiration
Joy
Love
Pride
Serenity

You can have felt them a little, moderately, or a lot. (If you only felt them a little, don't count them in this round.)

Total up the number you've felt and put that number aside.

Now think about the last 24 hours again. Have you felt any of these?
Anger
Contempt
Disgust
Embarrassment
Fear
Guilt
Hate
Sadness
Shame
Stress

Again, you can have felt these a little, moderately, or a lot. (With these, if you felt them a little, they count.)

Take your positive total, and divide it by your negative total. That's your positivity ratio.

The inventor of this test, Dr. Barabara Fredrickson, has research indicating that "a positivity ratio of 3 to 1 is a tipping point. This ratio divides those who merely get by in life from those who truly flourish."

But if you scored below 3-to-1, don't be surprised. More than 80% of U.S. adults fall short of the ideal 3-to-1 ratio. (I did, too, and I consider myself a highly positive person.) Instead of feeling guilt, shame, or stress over these results (because, watch out, you'll have to account for those tomorrow!) why not take interest in what you can do to up your ratio? Why not seek out a poem, a song, or a friend who inspires or amazes you?

You are in charge of where you put your attention. So when you catch yourself in a feeling of anger, frustration, or guilt, take some time to balance that out with some love, amusement, or gratitude. A simple way to approach this is through an exercise where you list five things you're grateful for -- like the comfort of your fluffiest pillow, the crispy, minty taste of your toothpaste, or the support of the people who love you -- and really sit in that gratitude as you move through your day. Similarly, sit down and list things that crack you up -- like the way your sister snorts when she laughs really hard, the way a muppet ends a joke by settling down into its neck, or that cute guy who is ninja funny -- and just sit with the enjoyment of that for a while.

Negative stuff will come and go, and I personally have a harder time keeping the negative feelings at bay than I do redirecting my attention onto the stuff that makes me happy. So this is a good exercise for me, too.

(And in just writing this post I've upped my hope, amusement, inspiration and gratitude quotients for today, so maybe tomorrow I'll have a 3-to-1!)

our lovely, imperfect selves

I was recently reading a post on the Sunday at Noon blog, in which matchmaker Marni Galison talks about how easy it is to fall into the trap of cutting off potential dates because they're not perfect. She says:

In most aspects of our lives, we can accept that the people we love are
flawed human beings but naturally we still love them anyway. Despite those
flaws, we recognize the qualities that make them the unique, wonderful people
they are and we cherish having them in our lives.

But for some reason, when it comes to dating, the minute we see that a new
love interest is less than perfect we rush to judgment. And often that judgment
is equivalent to the Spanish Inquisition – no one stands a chance from thereon
in.

She goes on to encourage us to forgive each other for not being perfect, which might make dating a little bit easier. (See the whole article here.)

I'd like to take that action even one step further -- I'd like to encourage us to forgive ourselves for not being perfect. When we accept, embrace, and even revel in our own imperfections ("that's right, I can be needy sometimes!") we are likely to be more forgiving of perceived shortcomings in others.

One of the things I try to do to give myself perspective on perfection and the challenges that other people face is simple: I put myself in their shoes. Given their situations, backgrounds, friends, fears, needs, etc., how would I act? Would I be different? And if so, can I at least understand better why they are they way they are?

It's a carry-over from my acting days when I used to put on all those things on behalf of a character, and I find it expands my generosity and patience with others immensely. (Which can come in handy when one is dating...)

on broken hearts

My friend John is a fabulous writer, and he recently wrote a piece about how to get over a broken heart. (The crux of his argument? Pina Coladas.) And, while his suggestion of bellying up to the bar isn't necessarily something I'd recommend to my readers (no offense, John) the way he describes the strength of the human heart really spoke to me, so I thought I'd share it with you:

"It helps to think of your heart as a piece of steel. Not chocolate or flesh or crepe paper. A shiny ball of steel. Which has a breaking point. But have you ever seen steel forged? It's heated in a volcano hot furnace until it glows white. It's so hot, the hard steel is malleable. Then it's hammered and hammered and hammered. Smashed into shape. Two pieces are clobbered to form one whole piece and then the steel is dumped into water. Once it's cooled, it's as hard as... well, you know. I've had my heart broken many, many times. And each time, I ended up stronger. My furnace? A Pina Colada. Maybe some Patsy Cline. A new friend, if just for that moment."

(You can read the rest of the article here.)

It's easy to think that you're not up to a challenge, or that you've been hurt so badly that you'll never recover. But keeping this image of an invulnerable heart in your mind, remembering that no matter what you throw at it, it will only get stronger... well, it works for me.