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"Make sure you love who you are first so you know what you deserve." I read this in an article giving advice to women before settling down. I could use this advice, too and I’m a middle-aged guy who just moved from Malibu to Manhattan. Why would you do that? The beach, the movie stars the traffic --I don’t know -- I want to experience true misery. There’s depression in L.A., it just makes other plans if something better comes along, like the latest cosmetic surgery or a cuter boy or girl.
What qualifies as loving myself? When I buy a Bentley with the brushed aluminum dash and the car seems to impress Stephanie, is that self-love? She tells me there’s going to be a race-war one day. Her dream is to own a pig farm like her grandmother in Guatemala City. I think I impress her because my Spanish is pretty good but she corrects my grammar with contempt --No escribi nada -- nice try white boy. She ends up treating me like shit in that typical passive aggressive Latina way. Wouldn't matter what car I had, Stephanie made up her mind about me. She cancels on me at the last minute, I’m on my period, which may or may not be true but probably isn’t. Something familiar and gooey about her masochistic treatment of me, like eating a cheese Danish and knowing it’s going right to my ass. She probably thinks I’m too old – she’s right – I am. She’s self-conscious about her large breasts and I let her know that they’re not too big but they turn me on like tall guys turn women on. I’m short so I know.
Don't get me wrong I’m not a midget or anything. I know one of those guys and they prefer the term dwarf. He’s actually really, really smart. I get it – Tall guys make women feel safe. Stephanie doesn't come out and say it, but I know she’d be more into me if I were taller. Short guys are like women with small breasts; sometimes we have to try a little harder.
The woman I’m dating now is my opposite. I wanted her to stay after we had sex. She’s a flat-bottomed no-nonsense Asian who hasn't changed clothes since the first time we met, we’ve been out 5 or 6 times. I’m not kidding, she hasn't changed even her shirt, not one bit! She’s been over here most of the time. After we met I texted her but I never heard from her so I thought she wasn't interested. She texted a few days later, which seemed like a week or a month to me -- I had to pretend like it was no big deal. At first, she told me her name was Ruby, and I’m like seriously?! She couldn’t even pronounce that shit. Her name is Chen and she picked her nose in front of me after she had an orgasm.
Surprisingly, I took this as a compliment because I thought, "Man she must feel right at home". Are you in an unhealthy relationship if you allow someone to pick his or her nose in front of you? Seinfeld got dumped (for a perceived pick) but reality and television are two different things, a distinction a lot of millennials have muddled.
Chen is 30 and still calls home just about every day. As a Jewish man who reluctantly worked and took care of his overbearing mother until she passed away that overly tight-knit family thing is strangely comforting especially if it comes in a slightly different package, you know like Prince said, a Love Bazaar.
Back to what it means to love oneself. I never got too upset about Stephanie because I have this rule, always pick someone who is enthusiastic about me for whatever reason. I went out with Jennifer who lost her job at the Rand Corporation a think-tank in Santa Monica because she lost her mind when she came to the conclusion that L.A. was going to get nuked. She actually had to go to the loony bin. When I met Jennifer she was so into me. But when I went out of town she went through my stuff, my computer and found one message I had with one woman at the very beginning of our relationship. When she was going to dump me over something that had brought up a traumatic recurrence for her I tried to hold on. Shut the Freudian door. Like back forth with Mom and Dad all over again trying to make it right, trying to get their approval.
After our eventual breakup I looked Jennifer up on the Internet and she was doing submissive bondage photos and moved to Bumfuck Ohio. Was I complicit in screwing her up in some weird way just by not being that into her? I took my enthusiastic about me rule too far; I need to feel enthusiastic about my partner, too. Sounds obvious but if you’re used to being treated like shit it can be a real turn on when someone is really into you. Loving yourself means having the courage to do the right thing and sometimes that means telling someone who’s interested, you don’t feel the same.
For me, it’s all about respect, and I don’t mean Master/Slave respect. I mean mutual admiration. Respect comes before love. You need to know who you are and where you stand and that can change, too. I make my bed every morning. I try to be grateful at the beginning and at the end of each day. In small simple ways I’m treating myself with respect and maybe as I do these small, nice things for myself I begin to build trust with and for myself. I can become amused instead of annoyed at the older henpecked Jewish man who has the shoe I want and is trying it on for 20 minutes before marching over to me and announcing stupidly, I’m going take it. Love of one’s self is developing a trust in oneself, and it can take time. I’ve learned to ask myself: Do I need to say this? And do I need to say this now? After I special ordered the shoe I discovered it was too big. Sometimes I forget that something is doing for me what I can't do for myself –- sometimes I just need to wait and get out of the way.