Single and Loving It!

At one point in my disastrous dating career, I made a vow to stop going out with men altogether until I met a guy worth my time. I concentrated on my friends and my career, traveled, and generally enjoyed life until my husband showed up.

And, even then, I wasn't too enthusiastic about dating him. When he asked me out for the following Saturday, I answered, "How about Wednesday?"

To this day, he teases me about that. It certainly didn't turn him off, though. If anything, it established the fact that I had a life of my own and enjoyed it (healthy men tend to be attracted to happy women with full lives).

But, hey, I figured all the guys I'd dated so far turned out to be duds (or heartbreakers), so why blow a perfectly good Saturday night with some guy I'd probably have nothing in common with? Especially when I could be out with my friends.

After all, Saturday only comes once a week.

How to Keep a Man Faithful

A lot of women ask me how they can keep a man from cheating. They believe that some magic formula must exist, but the only formula I know of is to only ever get involved with a faithful man.

Yeah, I know you've read the crap in the media that men are "hardwired" to "spread their seed," and they can't help themselves from sleeping around, but it's garbage. Talk about lowering expectations!

Men are no more hardwired to cheat than we are. Recent data shows that women today step out on their mates much more than we used to. We work outside the home, so we have ample of opportunity for something on the side. Plenty of women go for it, but it doesn't make it right.

Some people cheat.

Some people do not.

It's that simple.

Unfortunately, often when a woman learns her partner's been slipping between the sheets with another lass, she blames herself. She thinks perhaps she's not pretty, sexy, smart, interesting, or whatever enough. She believes she's failed.

Or she blames the other woman. She reasons that a guy has a biological imperative to be unfaithful, and it's the female's fault for throwing herself at him: The girl's a slut.

(It's a terrible idea to call another woman a slut, by the way. If the guy cheated on me, I'd call him a slut.)

If a guy is unfaithful to you, please take comfort in the fact that he suffers from a major character defect: cowardice. Real men end relationships before they begin new ones. A coward will probably always be a coward. Say a prayer for the next woman he gets involved with.

When a woman cheats on a man, the guy rarely blames himself. Sure, he's hurt. He's probably closed the door and cried about it, but he usually ends the relationship and moves on.

Take B, a good male friend of mine and Peter's. After he learned his longtime girlfriend had a lengthy affair with her auto mechanic, we spent a lot of time talking him through it. The man was heartbroken. (I can't imagine what the hell she was thinking; he's funny, good looking, an excellent cook and gardener, handy around the house, a whiz at finance, and, oh yeah, faithful).

He broke off the relationship immediately. He gave himself time to mourn the loss. After a couple of months, he signed up for a cooking class and the Adirondack club, where he met new new people.

Today he's happily married to a woman who loves him. As far as we know, she resists impulses to sleep with her mechanic.

Have you ever seen the movie Father of the Bride with Elizabeth Taylor and Spencer Tracy? There's a scene where Elizabeth and her fiance have just had a fight. Spencer, who plays her father, asks if it was over another woman.

Elizabeth replies something to the effect of, "No, but I wish it was. That would be something I could sink my teeth into!"

For the life of me, I don't know what she meant. Why would anybody ever want to fight for a disloyal man's affection?

What a colossal waste of time.

Bald Guys Are Sexy

While watching TV last night, I was subjected to one of those ads designed to make bald guys feel like unappealing losers that no sane woman would touch.

The ad demonstrated how bald guys could achieve never-ending joy, sex, and success by submitting to a procedure that would have them sporting a scalpful of nubs like Granny's old sweater in no time.

Then I was treated to some footage of women crawling over the formerly bald losers.

I have to say, I hate ads that make people feel inadequate (although that is the function of most advertising). In case you haven't noticed, many bald men are incredibly attractive. The fact that they can even go bald is evidence of their masculinity.

Fortunately, a lot of balding guys are beginning to get this. They're forsaking the pathetic-looking (and sympathy-inducing) plugs, drugs, and transplants and just shaving off whatever's left.

I know one great-looking balding dude who, for years, painstakingly arranged the hair he had left into a horrifying comb-over. Then, one day, the light went on and the razor came out. He looks like a million dollars (maybe ten, after inflation).

Every now and then, he lets that little wreath of hair grow in a bit too long, and I remind him, "Think Ed Harris, not Ed Asner."

Check out the hilarious BaldRUs for fun facts for bald men and the women who love them, as well as the dirt on what really goes on in some of those ridiculous "hair clubs."

The Peril of Wearing Too Much Perfume

Stayed up last night to watch Craig Ferguson, who, like Colbert and Stewart, interviews people who write books instead of, say, people like Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan who just get their pictures taken a lot.

Last night, Craig talked to an Irish guy named Ken Bruen, the author of Priest, the latest in a series about an alcoholic ex-cop from Galway. I will probably give it a whirl once I get through the stack of books on my coffee table.

Yesterday at the library I added Donald Spoto's Joan, the biography of Joan of Arc, to the stack. It will be chock full o' laughs, I'm sure. Nothing like a true story about burning a 19-year-old girl at the stake to put a smile on your face.

Good thing I'm also reading Nick Hornby's Housekeeping Vs. The Dirt to fend off utter despair (Hornby, the author of the book that became the Hugh Grant movie, About a Boy, is hilarious and gives me reason to live).

Now for my dating-- or human relations--tip of the day: The temperature here in New England hovered around 93 yesterday with the humidity coming in at about 900%.

And then, in the faintly air conditioned library where I dampened Joan's pages, a lung leadening odor wafted into my sphere, which I came to recognize as women's perfume.

Despite the implications of the seductive gatefold ads in The New York Times Magazine, bathing oneself in a powdery flowery fragrance is unattractive at any time of the year. In the choking heat of summer, it's downright repellent.

Less is more! And even less is even better!

If you must wear perfume during the summer and want to attract men and the goodwill of the general population, resist! Until sundown, anyway.

Which brings me to the subject of fragrance for men. Perhaps you've seen the ads, which promise that women will be compelled to spray themselves with whipped cream upon catching a whiff of a fellow wearing Tag Body Spray.

Even though I don't know any women who've ever succumbed to the mysterious powers of Tag, the advertising clearly works in getting guys to buy the stuff.

Every single man I know has a couple of cans in his bathroom.

Oh!

The Naked Truth About Strip Clubs

The New York Daily News ran an expose on strip clubs yesterday. I have to say it was a bit of an eye-opener, especially this quote from the Erik Langan, the CEO of Rick's Cabaret in Manhattan:

"For guys, it's male bonding, or an escape from reality," Langan said. "You want to believe this 19-year-old girl really loves you, is listening to you and maybe in another time, she could be your girlfriend. So you can spend $3,000 here and say 'Hey, I had a good time.'"

I don't know about you, but my feelings would really be hurt if my husband were out spending three grand to pretend a teenager was in love with him.

But then the sting would wear off, and I'd lose respect for him. It would be hard to press from my mind the image of him moaning about his horrible life to a stranger who couldn't care less about the poor bastard.

Here's what Raquel, a young woman who dances to finance her Mercedes, her property on Long Island, and to pay off her student loans, says about the fellows she entertains:


"Most of the time is spent listening to them talk. They talk about their marriages, they talk about work, their kids, their problems. I mean, I feel like a psychotherapist. A lot of them seem very lonely, it's pretty sad sometimes."

Pretty sad, indeed.

What about you? Do you think it's okay for attached guys to hang out with strippers?

A lot of wives and girlfriends are fine with it (or to pretend to be), but, for me, it doesn't quite mesh with "treat others as you would have them treat you" rule of happy relationships.

For some reason, I don't think my husband would appreciate me going off on a business trip, getting drunk, and jamming dollar bills into some strange man's underwear. So I when I used to go away on business, I didn't do it.

I expect no less from him.

A Masochist In Love No More

Today's New York Times Style section ran this fabulous and instructive piece by a former doormat in love. This woman dated (and put up with) the creepiest men, until she flouted the advice given to her by her father and the authors of the dating manual, The Rules.

I never read The Rules, but I did catch the pair who wrote in on Oprah a few years back. I objected to a lot of their advice, particularly that a woman should never call a man back. It's one thing to remain a bit elusive; it's another to be downright rude.

I do think (although the author of the Times piece will disagree with me) that it's better to let a guy phone first: He will usually ask for your number and say, "I'll call you." Or he'll drop you off after a first date and say, "I'll call you."

In which case, I think it's wise to see if he lives up to his word. Unfortunately, too many women choose not to take the wait-and-see approach and call, text, and email the guy to death.

And that amounts to relationship suicide.

Will an Office Romance Jeopardize Your Career?

Interesting piece with Today's Meredith Viera and Lissa Coffey.

Lessons From a Master Flirt

My friend is an amazing flirt.

Here's what she's not: Trashy, vulgar, in-your-face, or desperate. Here's what she is: Attractive, kind, and confident. She has an open and pleasant face, but after two children, she doesn't possess a figure like any of the women on NBC's fright fest, The Age of Love. She looks like a woman, not a girl.

A couple of weeks ago, she and I and a bunch of other female friends headed to a tapas bars for, well, tapas. Oh, and mojitos.

The host came over to seat us, but he refused to make eye contact. So Master Flirt made a joke (nine times out of ten, she gets people to loosen up this way), but he was resolute. He wasn't going to look at us.

At that point, I admit, I'd have given up. Hey, she tried. But the girl did not give up. Instead, in an act of sheer genius, she sidled up to the guy. She was careful not to invade his space frontally, but moved over to his side gently in a way that conveyed, "Hey, Buddy."

And guess what? He smiled at her. He smiled at her all the way over to the table.

Then the waiter came over. He, too, refused to make eye contact. So she made a comment about the weather (I'm an idiot at small talk; while I'm trying to come up with something clever to say, she blurts out something benign, and it usually works. But this guy, like the last one, was a tough customer). When that didn't achieve the desired result, she brought up the subject of the bandage on his arm.

"Hey, what happened?" she asked.

The waiter involuntarily arched his back, surprised that she even noticed. "Eh, I just scratched it pruning a tree," he said. And then he smiled. And he smiled at her for the rest of the evening.

At the school where she works, she's known as the "hot teacher," even though she doesn't own a provocative article of clothing. She's also over 40.

The woman knows how to draw people in and make them feel important.

At her house for lunch one day, I spied How to Win Friends & Influence People by Dale Carnegie in her bookcase. While I've read that book, she absolutely lives it. Winning friends and influencing people is not about manipulation; it's about making people feel good about you and, more important, themselves.

And that's what a master flirt does. Everybody just loves her for it.

Wedding Season Is Dating Season

Weddings can be great places to meet guys. When my sister attended the nuptials of her college friend's brother, she ended up meeting, falling in love with, and marrying the bride's brother. They celebrated their seventh wedding anniversary a couple of months ago.

My friend's husband's sister was seated next to the future COO of a major Wall Street firm at the "loser" table at a wedding. These "losers" have been married 23 years, have three children, reside in well-to-do Greenwich, Connecticut, and hire a helicopter on summer weekends to fly them out to their other home in Amagansett, Long Island.

On Tuesday evening, Peter and I attended a lovely party given by some neighbors. Over drinks, I asked them where they met. The answer?

At a wedding.

The wife (let's call her Carol) attended with a date; the husband (we'll call him Roger) went by himself. At the party after the reception, everybody except Carol and Roger went to the parking lot to schmooze and smoke cigars.

Carol and Roger got to talking. Turns out he was the cousin of the bride, Carol's friend from childhood. She knew much of Roger's family, and so they had plenty to talk about. His family assured her he was a great guy.

They said goodnight around 4:30AM. Roger lived in a faraway state, so Carol offhandedly offered to make him breakfast at her apartment. Since she knew his family so well, she felt safe enough to invite him over before he had to hit the highway.

He showed up at her door four hours later. She made omelets. Sparks flew, but so did the time. He had to get home for work the next day.

He left. He liked her. She liked him. He wanted to see her again, but she had a trip to Cancun coming up. A reunion would have to wait.

Which gave him plenty of time to think about her, how much he liked her, and how different she was from other women he'd met so far. He couldn't wait to see her again.

When she got back from Cancun, he made it a point to call her. They got together once. Twice. Again and again. And now they've been married 12 years.

I wonder if things would have worked out differently if they had cell phones (not everybody had a cell phone back then), and they called each other incessantly. I wonder if too much contact too soon would have prevented their feelings from percolating.

Cell phones (and email and texting) are great in emergencies, but my guess is that they've killed many a romance due to overaccessibility.

What I love about Carol and Roger's story is this: She showed interest in him, and then she went away. While it's important to be available, it's even more important not to be too available.

Everyone--both men and women--wants to think they're getting a prize.

The Age of Love

Ronnie Ann Ryan, the author of Manifesting Mr. Right, alerted me to The Age of Love, a truly scary new reality (uh, yeah, right)program on NBC, in which 20-something women compete with 40-somethings for the affection of some 30-year-old man.

I checked it out on Monday evening. Two days later, I still cannot quite articulate how much I despise it. Even my 11-year-old hated it.

"Why are all those women fighting over one dumb guy?" she wanted to know.

"Why do they all have, like, the same bodies?"

"Why are they all wearing bikinis?"

"This show is really stupid."

Yes, it certainly is.

Apparently, she and I are in the minority when it comes to disliking The Age of Love. Elle magazine called it, "this summer's guiltiest pleasure" (now I remember why I don't read Elle magazine).

Judging by the comments on the show's message board, it's poised to be a massive hit.

Note to "hunky host" Mark Consuelos: Call me crazy, but The Age of Love is a lousy career move.

Keys to a Happy Marriage

I completely agree with this report from The Today Show (it's worth watching if you can put up with the 30-second commercial before it starts).

Nothing kills romance faster than a partner who doesn't keep up with his or her share of the housework.

A woman I know and love recently married a man who's lived on his own for many years. She moved into his house, but she's taken on all the household chores: the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, everything.

I can't imagine why. You figure the guy cleaned the toilet once or twice since he moved out of Mommy and Daddy's house.

I'm not necessarily blaming him, either. Why did my friend assume the housework? Did he ask her to? Or she she take it upon herself.

They've only been married two months, and she already resents it. Resentment is a passion-killer.

Playing 'Hard to Get' the Right Way

Hi, Terry-

We talk about how to get a good man, make him pursue you, cherish you like a treasure all the time, but do you think we women need to get over our pride? If it hurts pretending that we don't care about that man, shouldn't we show we sincerely care about him?

I went out twice with a certain man from work and had a physical relationship. I liked him a lot, but in order to pretend to be cool, I agreed with him that we are just "physical." I didn't want him to think that I want a serious relationship so fast.

I know he liked me, too, but after that he doesn't answer my calls anymore. He still helps me at work and is friendly, but our intimacy seems gone. I don't know if he is not really interested in me or if my cool attitude stops him.

He is leaving the country soon (which I knew from the beginning), and I don't know if he is coming back. I am very depressed that I might lose him, especially when I know another girl has decided to follow him (yes, he is very popular. Most women like him).

Now he is not answering my calls or text messages. Should I get over my pride and visit him in the other country? Or should I tell him in person I want to be with him?

-Confused

While there's no way in hell I'd travel to another country to see the guy, you have absolutely nothing to lose by telling him you loved getting to know him, and that you'll miss him.

I would tell him in person. I would look him in the eye. I would leave no room for doubt that you care for him a great deal. Then let him leave the country. Let him roll things around in his mind for a while. See if anything comes of it.

In the meantime, I would cease calling, texting, or emailing him immediately. Once you've told him how you feel, the ball is in his court. It is up to him to contact you. If you try to contact him, you'll push him in the wrong direction.

So say your bit and walk away.

I want to clarify something: Being proud and being cold are two different things. Being proud means you expect to be treated well. Being cold just makes people think you're not that crazy about them.

Think of it this way. If you dated a guy, and he told you he just wanted to be "physical," wouldn't you be confused if he called you and texted you afterwards?

Next time, try doing the opposite. Let a guy know you're interested in him by looking him in the eye and truly listening to him. Laugh at his jokes, if they're funny. Let him know you had a great time at the end of the night.

Most of the time, a guy will say, "I'll call you."

Which means he has taken it upon himself to initiate further contact. Take him at his word. Let him live up to it.

Let him call you.

Keep busy in the meantime. This is no time to camp out next to the phone. If he calls, go out with him. If he doesn't, move on. If he doesn't call until three weeks later, I wouldn't leap to go out with him again. If I really liked him, I might fit him in after a week or so.

As for this guy who's on his way out of the country, there's nothing you can do to make him return your affection. You just have to let him go. Whether he comes back and sees you for the great person you are is entirely up to him.

It's not easy, but it is freeing in a way, isn't it?

Terry

Thank God for Blind Dates

Footloose and offspring free today, Peter dug a trench in the yard while I watched the Concert for Diana. Today, July 1st, would have been Princess Diana's 46th birthday. It also would have been my parents' 46th wedding anniversary.

My parents met on a blind date on June 13, 1959 (that's Mom, Dad, and one of my children in 2001 in the photo). My mother's college friend had a date with a young lawyer, who asked if she could bring someone along for his friend, the man who later became my father. Interestingly, my in-laws got married on June 13, 1959.

Back to Diana: My mother and I got up early on July 29, 1981 to watch her wedding to Prince Charles. Then, in 2005, we watched Charles' wedding to Camilla. At that point, my mother was bedridden with brain cancer. She died a few months later.

As much as my mother admired Diana, the other royals irked her. Fergie of "My Humps" fame, who performed at today's concert, feels quite differently. She gushed to an interviewer, "We're American. We're very inspired by royalty," or something equally bizarre.

I've been to England five times, and it's one of my favorite places in the world, but I thought the whole point of being American was to reject royalty, not to be inspired by it.

Desperate Women Make Plays For Other Women's Men

THE PLAYERS:

You: Minding your own business, out with a date or a boyfriend

Him: Minding his own business and enjoying your company

Another woman (his ex-girlfriend, an overly friendly waitress, or some other miscellaneous female): Makes eye contact with only him, uses body language to shut you out, may 'accidentally' spill your drink, makes sweeping gestures with her eyeballs to suggest you're wearing hideous clothes. In extreme situations, she may mention that you're not very good-looking.

It still blows me away the way some females treat other females, yet twice in two days I've heard from women who've been harrassed by a rival for a dude's affection. If this happens to you, feel sorry for the poor idiot who thinks her life is going to improve by making a play for your date.

Whatever you do, don't challenge her. Avoid telling her to go to hell, smacking her in the head, or giving her the finger. Do not-- I repeat-- do not reduce yourself to her level. She's desperate. You're not. She's also a loser.

Blot your spilled drink. Pretend you didn't notice that the sorry creature suffers compulsions to poach other women's boyfriends to feel better about herself. Did I mention that she's a loser?

A worthwhile guy will respond to her with casual but friendly disinterest, and then you've beat her. A substandard guy will leap on her like a St. Bernard. Even if this happens, you've still beat her.

Offer the pathetic woman your seat. If he's foolish enough to return the attention of such a low caliber individual, tell her she's welcome to him.

Then do yourself a favor and hit the highway.

If You Want to Meet a Guy, Bring a Book

Last Friday, I described how I attracted the attention of a highly attractive fellow on the beach with my head stuck in Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights.

Books are like dogs that way. They attract the attention of the opposite sex. But you don't have to feed them or clean up after them.

On a business flight a few years ago, I overheard a man start a conversation with the woman next to him about the book in her lap, One Hundred Years of Solitude. On another flight, my seatmate, an entomologist proofreading a piece entitled, "The Oviposition of the Onion Fly," inquired about the book I read, which was A Christmas Carol. Then he wistfully told me about how his mother used to read it out loud to him when he was a child.

I once lent a copy of Bright Lights, Big City to a guy I was crazy about. He read it at lunchtime on a pretty spring day in Lower Manhattan, attracting the attention of another woman who chatted him up about it. (As you can guess, that wasn't exactly my intention.)

Even though reading is considered a solitary pursuit, it certainly invites conversation. And you can absolutely learn something about a guy by the books he reads, or by the things he says about the books you read.

Reading in public as a way to meet new men beats going to clubs (they're great for dancing, not meeting), where the emphasis remains on how hot your body is and how you shake it. Unless, of course, you hate reading and prefer sensory overload that prohibits meaningful conversation of any kind. Some people do.

Getting Lucky Again (More Law of Attraction at Play)

In my previous post, I discussed my reasons for joining Toastmasters. I mentioned that you won't necessarily meet the man of your dreams there, but you could make a friend or business contact who'll introduce you to him.

Interestingly, last week Ronnie Ann Ryan and I had a discussion about guys who make great boyfriends. We agreed that bookworms are tops; they're passionate, interesting, interested, and, based on our experience, pretty good guys (unless, of course, the books they read include titles like How to Build Bombs With Crap From Your Parents' Basement).

I've always been attracted to bookworms like Stephen Colbert, my husband, and Phil Lesh (anybody who quotes William Blake in his autobiography is definitely a bookworm).

Today I served as Toastmaster for the first time, which means I ran most of the meeting. Unfortunately, the member who'd been assigned to serve as Table Topics Master (the sadist responsible for singling out a poor sucker to talk off the top of his head about a specific subject) didn't show.

So I came up with today's topic off the top of my head. Inspired by the grand opening of a new independent bookstore (a delightful alternative to B&N, Waldenbooks, and Borders) in my neighborhood last week, I suggested we take turns telling the group about a book that changed us.

Midway through the first respondent's presentation about her life-altering experience with The Celestine Prophecy, two guys in their 20s we'd never seen before walked into the conference room.

Asked to introduce themselves, they seemed to be the kind of fellows Ronnie Ann and I talked about. One guy in particular screamed "bookworm" with his black-rimmed glasses (behind which hid a beautiful face). Once we got him talking about his favorite book, The Pilgrim's Progress, he confirmed bookworm status.

Neither one of them were wearing wedding rings, so maybe I can endorse Toastmasters as a place where you might meet the man of your dreams. As for me, if I were single and a couple of years younger, I'd have gone for the dude with the glasses.

Getting Lucky

Today I'll conduct my local Toastmasters meeting for the first time. In case you don't know, Toastmasters is an organization devoted to promoting leadership and public speaking skills.

I joined for two reasons: It helps me lead the networking group I started for businesswomen in my area. It also helps keep the shyness at bay.

Toastmasters is a great place to meet supportive, ambitious people. You won't necessarily meet the man of your dreams there, but you might make a friend or a business contact or two. And who knows where that'll lead?

One successful man who raves about Toastmasters is Scott Ginsberg, who's also known as "The Nametag Guy." This dude has been wandering the planet wearing a nametag 24/7 since November 2000, and it's paid off. He's made a lot of friends (his goal is to make the planet a friendlier place). He also launched a business that landed him on 20/20 a couple of weeks ago. You can check out the video right here.

While most of his fans want to to promote their businesses, Scott's advice applies to anybody looking to get lucky. It boils down to this: Meet new people and start relationships with them. (I love this guy!)

I doubt I'll ever venture out of my house wearing a nametag, but I did email Scott for permission to print the following article from his ezine. It offers brilliant tips for getting out of a rut and changing your life:

How to become the Luckiest Person You Know
By Scott Ginsberg, The Nametag Guy

1. Exponentially increase your activity level. Since November 2nd, 2000, I’ve met over 100,000 people. I also seem to be extremely lucky. Coincidence?

LUCK OUT: figure out how many people you encounter on an average day. Then triple it.

2. Don't stay at home. The best way to be in the right place at the right time is to be in a lot of places.

LUCK OUT: next time you want to sit around and surf the net, read or write, go to Starbucks or something. Increase the probability of an encounter by positioning yourself in a high-traffic area.

3. Practice strategic serendipity. It’s about preparation, observation and relaxation. This is especially important for trade shows, conferences and other high-traffic venues.

LUCK OUT: got an event coming up? Cool! Read this article called 19 Ways to be the One Person at Your Next Conference Everybody Remembers.

4. Stick yourself out there. The reason I meet so many people (and, subsequently have so many opportunities) is because a nametag is unexpected. It breaks people's patterns. It makes them wonder, "Huh?" And especially if they notice a nametag in an unexpected venue, like a concert or a wedding, they're more likely to approach me.

LUCK OUT: it's not about the nametag - it's about making the mundane memorable. Be unexpected.

Learn three more ways to become the luckiest person you know here!

Why You May Be Attracted to the Men You're Attracted to

This pretty decent report from Today explains a lot.

She Attracted the Right Man (After Dating a Parade of Duds)

The trip to the Jersey Shore for my brother-in-law's 40th birthday party was worth it for numerous reasons:

1. I got to see smart, fun people I hadn't seen in years
2. I got to spend time with my cousin and her remarkable boyfriend
3. The pain in my neck I suffered as a result of recent events finally subsided
4. My ghostly offspring and I showed up on the beach, making every sunbather in the vicinity feel superior.

About my cousin and her boyfriend:

When she was in her 20s, she watched all her friends get married. Most of her siblings and cousins married. Like a lot of married people who drop their single friends, they dropped her. She soldiered on, hoping to meet the right guy, between shopping for and attending showers. For one reason or another, all relationships met dead ends.

By the time she got into her 30s, she started to feel pretty dissatisfied about life. The dating parade continued, but few of the men did it for her. If they did it for her, she didn't do it for them. She pressed on, spending time with fellows who enjoyed her hobbies of dancing and going to the theater.

I'd met several of them over the years because she brought them to my parents' house for Thanksgiving. They didn't thrill me, and they didn't thrill her.

Then, four years ago, as I hung a shower curtain in our new house, my cousin called to invite me somewhere. She mentioned that she'd been dating a podiatrist. She didn't say she was crazy about him, or that he was crazy about her, but I could hear it in her voice: This guy was different.

He's still different. Spending time at their house last weekend, I actually got a lump in my throat; their love for one another is that obvious (without being creepy).

My father called me last night to rave about the dude. Peter loves him. My aunt is crazy about him. He's successful but down to earth. He's polite. He's funny. He's easy to be around. And he loves my cousin.

If he's so great, you may ask, why hasn't he married her?

Well, it's certainly not for lack of trying. He's the love of her life, she says, but they have a good thing. Why mess it up?

The Highway to Unhappiness

During our 4-hour trip to the Jersey Shore Saturday morning, we encountered a series of jerk drivers. You know the type: They exist solely to weave in and out of tight spaces and scare the pants off everybody else on the parkway.

I briefly--very briefly--dated such an individual in college. He liked to call himself "an offensive driver." His sister called him "Asshole."

Which is, of course, what he turned out to be.

When you're dating a guy, watch the way he drives. Decent men (those of the 'treat others as you would have them treat you' variety) don't need to prove they own the road. They don't cut people off. They resist urges to speed around blind curves. They don't zip through residential neighborhoods.

Case in point: My cousin's boyfriend drives a new Jaguar, but he's not an idiot about it. He drives it like a man, not like a 7-year-old. He lets the car speak for itself.

While this man can afford his car, a lot of people driving luxury vehicles can't. They're living on credit. Don't be impressed by cars. Actions speak much louder than possessions.

The last thing you ever want to do is end up with a guy in serious debt. A man in debt is a miserable man. He'll make you miserable, too.