What Do I Say Next? A Love Story for Shy People

This blog was inspired by my student, Mehdi, who wanted to know what to do about silences.

Location:  a meetup or party

Time:  midnight

"Let's have a conversation," he said.

"About what?" she said.

"About you.  About me."

Silence

"In a conversation, I talk, then you talk," he said.

"OK," she said.

Silence

"Is talking hard?" he said, trying hard to get it started.

"I never know what to say," she said.

"You have nice eyes," he said.

Silence

"Let's keep trying," he said.

Silence

"Is it too noisy here?" he said.

"Kinda," she said.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Where?"

"Nearby, maybe a coffee shop or a bar.  Maybe along the waterfront."

"Is it safe?" she said.  "It's late."

"I have a 3rd degree black belt," he said.

Silence

"That's your cue," he said.

"Cue for what?"

"To continue the conversation."

"What's a 3rd degree black belt?" she said.

"Excellent!" he said.  "It's what I tell women when they are afraid to go for a walk."

Silence

"It's when I pull my belt tight, to the third hole."

"You're funny," she said.

"Have you ever been in danger?" he said.

"I'm always in danger," she said,

"I don't know what to say next," he said.  "I'm thinking one of these things:

a) You should protect yourself.  You should carry pepper spray and a whistle.

b) Considering the way you dress, I'm not surprised.

c) We all are.  These are dangerous times.

d) That's why I learned karate - to protect myself.

e) It's OK.  I'm here.

f) It must affect your life to feel that way.  You must feel anxious about trying new things or meeting new people."

"That last one is good," she said.  "You're right.  That's how I feel."

Silence

"Let's go for that walk," she said.

"Really?" he said.

"We can hold hands," she said.

Have You Had Any Good Dates?

I recently wrote about my last worst date.  People have been writing and asking, "Have you had any good dates?"

Indeed I have.

Long before the internet, I answered his print ad which began, "Available, Bearded, Charismatic, Dynamic, Energetic" and continued alphabetically all the way to zed.  For the letter "p" he said, "Professorish," which made him sound employed.  His ad also said, "Children welcome," and I had one of those.  If nothing else, the ad told me he had a big vocabulary.  As for all the other self-descriptions, I would soon find out if he was lying or merely hallucinating.

I suggested the Sultan's Tent in Toronto where I knew we would sit close together on low cushions.  A week later, there he was at the entrance to the Sultan's Tent - bearded, as promised, and enthusiastic.  We made our way in.

We sat at low, candle-lit tables, chatting, and watching the belly dancer who approached our table continuously trying to distract my date and make him dance with her.  Luckily, he was focussed on me and our tableful of Middle-Eastern appetizers.  I had dated another professor who was Buddhist and vegan.  I was always hungry around him  This one would not leave me hungry.

Just before the end of our meal, an attractive, fully-clothed woman came over to our table and said, "I want to speak to my professor."  We looked twice and realized it was the belly dancer.  She was a computer science student and had been in a class taught by my date.  It seemed he really was a professor.

What Is Your Heartbreak Recovery Time?

Long ago, in a province far away, I had a big passion for a philosophy teaching assistant, Charles Z, at Simon Fraser University where I was an undergrad.  He was Jewish, from NYC, and only slightly older than me, someone I thought I could actually introduce to my mother.  My relationship with Chuck lasted one month.  Then he dropped me to date one of his students.
 
It seemed that the lights didn't come on in my life again for 12 months, so I deduced that, for a first major heartbreak, there's a 1:12 ratio for length of relationship to recovery time.

As one becomes more experienced in heartbreak, the ratio may be inverted.  For example, after a mature 12-year relationship, it might take only one year to recover.  Of course, if your heart is broken daily during most of those 12 years, then the recovery is immediate (except for the post-traumatic stress).

How long was your first recovery?  Did you ever recover?  Is there any correlation at all between relationship length and first heartbreak?  What do you think?

What Happened on Your Last Bad Date?

It's been about 20 years, and I think I'm finally over my last bad date.

Our first date was interesting enough for him to call me a few days later and invite me to his apartment for dinner.  He was going to cook.  I met him through an ad he placed in The Globe and Mail, "National Personals" column -- yes, that's how we found discord before eHarmony.  His parents were from Scandinavia and Brooklyn, he was named for a Norse God, and he worked on Bay Street.  He had recently experienced the end of a long relationship and did not want to rush anything with anyone.  I assumed that he placed the ad because he wanted something with someone, and he seemed enthusiastic about getting together again.

I went up to his 15th-story Toronto apartment and he greeted me cautiously.  I recall the small kitchen with an opening to the living room/dining room.  He didn't want me in the kitchen while he cooked, so after chatting briefly, I settled on the sofa.

The window in the living room looked south over the city, the CN Tower in the distance.  The sofa was surrounded by overflowing bookshelves.  A racing bike was in one corner with other sports gear.  On the living room wall, opposite the kitchen were two doors, one to the bathroom and one to his bedroom, both closed.  While I wanted more intimacy, it seemed he now wanted less.  He wanted to concentrate on his swordfish.

I was cold, so I looked around for a blanket.  Not seeing one, I opened the door to his room and grabbed one from his bed.

A few minutes later, he noticed I was reading on the sofa under a blanket.

     "Where'd you get that?"
     "From the bedroom."
     "You went into my bedroom?"
     "I was cold.  I couldn't find a blanket."
     "You went into my bedroom!!  You're not f**king allowed in my bedroom!!"

After that exchange, I couldn't get to the elevator fast enough.  I never tasted the swordfish, and eschewed that unkind cut of fish for the next 20 years.

-- until a couple of weeks ago when my current husband, ignored my anti-swordfish stance and grilled some swordfish steaks.  They were delicious.  I was finally over my last worst date.

You Make Me Feel Normal?

"My boyfriend says, 'You make me feel normal.'  What does he mean?  Should I be flattered or afraid?"

I was asked this question recently.  He means this:  Most of his life, he feels uncomfortable and out of place around people.  He feels weird and different.  Your love and acceptance of him makes him feel like he's part of something, like he fits in.  He's not sure, but he imagines "normal" people feel that way all the time. 

Should you be flattered?  Yes, of course.  It's a lovely compliment.  You should also be afraid.  I suggest you find a romantic partner who says that you make him feel special or loved or even just good.

How Do I Screen for Psychopaths?

Dating is hard.  Women often ask me, "How do I screen for psychopaths?"

I suggest that they ask potential romantic partners two questions.   

1) What makes your life meaningful? 

Even a really skilled psychopath is unlikely to spit out "My volunteer work"-- and if he does, it can be verified with a background check.  And,

2) What did you learn from your last relationship?

Answers like "Where to bury a body" might be a clue.