IT COMES CRASHING DOWN

We all know people see through their own lens and process based on their own experience.  Just ask five people in the same room what happened and you will likely get five different stories.  The interesting thing about relationships is not that we observe and process with our unique filters.  What is more interesting is what we WANT to see.  When she wants him to be brave, she seems to notice the actions that hint at courage.  When she wants him to be a nice guy, she will give him the benefit of the doubt, at least a few times, when the “asshole” warning goes off.  When she wants him to be badass, she will focus on his moments of defiance.  When he wants her to be a player, he thinks she must be sleeping with every man she talks to.  When he wants her to be a saint, he will come up with a reasonable explanation for every wrongdoing.  What is the point?  Be who you are because everyone—and I truly mean everyone—will see you as they want you to be rather than as you are.  They will believe their story, and they will interact with you based on their story.  We WANT our desires to be true, so we lay the foundation of belief that becomes our reality; it is not necessarily the other person’s reality, but our own illusion.  

True, we are different things to different people.  While I may be different things to my family, friends, lovers, acquaintances, neighbors or colleagues, I will fundamentally still be the same core person.  Some may see my tenderness and others may know my temper, but it does not change who I am.  The trouble in interpersonal relationships starts when we want someone to be something they are not.  Sometimes the other person may even help perpetuate the problem because they want to be the illusion.  Ultimately, though, these fantasies make a person delusional about who they are with and the relationship is doomed to come crashing down to a painful reality.  Are we capable of seeing people for who they truly are rather than what we, or they, want them to be?  

FAILING

He walks over to me, smiles and says, “I haven’t seen you fall.”  Although I do not know him, his demeanor is friendly and I hear kindness in his voice.  Instantly I know, like most of the guys who ride remarkably, he is trying to teach me something.  This man, I would later learn, is a local legend. 

“I fall all the time!”  I proclaim, as I reply with a smile and a slightly defiant look.

“I haven’t seen you fall even once,” he persists.  He knows I have a lot more to give.  I know he is right.  I am not pushing myself.  I am being apprehensive.  So I begin to put effort into it and actually try.  I start to have a lot of fun and begin taking risks.  I run faster, I try to go farther and I try to stay on longer.  Sure enough, I am now flying off my board and I fall splat into the water.  I smash down into the sand, face first.  I stand up and, as I bend my head to the left and then to the right to stretch my neck, I assess I am OK.  I adjust my wetsuit jacket as I walk over to pick-up my board, and then I look over at him.  He is smiling again. 

I smile and humbly say to him, “Free sand exfoliation.”

He responds, apparently proud of my effort, “If you don’t fall, you’re not trying hard enough.”

This type of encouragement is one of the things I love about the skim community: they want you to succeed.  To succeed in this sport, though, you have to first fail.  You have to fall—a lot—to learn how to do it right. Just as in life and with relationships, you have to fail in order to succeed.  Why?  Because failing means you are trying; failing means you are learning.  When you learn from failure, you gain perspective and an understanding of what you can do better.  Failing also provides motivation to succeed.  Do you stop because you were not successful the first time, or do you get your ass back up and try again?

Let me be clear, when I talk about failing, I am talking about moments of failure.  Michael Jordan famously talks about how many times he failed, but he failed in making specific shots—he succeeded as the greatest basketball player.  Even in interpersonal relationships, when you learn from a moment of failure, you make the relationship more successful.  When you persevere through trials and improve yourself, you can relish in success.     

WHAT WAS I THINKING?!

Do you ever look back and wonder, “What was I thinking?”  I frequently amuse myself with the thought.  Sometimes, it is about something I have done.  Something that was, perhaps, not the wisest decision I could have made.  Other times, it is about something I wanted to have or wanted to do, but I could not have or did not get.  Reflecting back on these moments is not about playing Monday morning quarterback.  Rather, it is about living in the moment and recognizing I might not be on the path I had wanted, but I am on the path I need to be on.  It is as simple as it sounds.  What happened is over and done; and what did not happen, well, that moment is over and done too.   Did you really miss an opportunity to do something, or were you actually fortunate enough to have avoided it?  Whichever course I actively or passively decide to take, I will end-up where I need to be.  Though it might not always be where I want to be, it is where I am and, accordingly, exactly where I need to be.

It is easy to feed fear and dwell on analysis.  It is just as easy to feed fantasy and dwell on desire.  All that is needed, though, is a pause for reflection.  It is healthy to learn from our choices and understand our decisions.  It is not useful to live with regret, and it is not productive to live in the past or the future.  I am more peaceful when I remember, where I have been and where I am right now is my journey.  I might sprint straight ahead sometimes, and other times I might take a more circuitous path by going up, around and down.  Loved ones might provide a helping hand when I falter, companionship when I am lonely, encouragement when I am unsure and love whether I fail or succeed.  They will travel on various parts of my journey with me, but ultimately, I am responsible for making my journey—as it is.     

A HERO TO THE RESCUE

As soon as the engine stopped and the “fasten seat belt” light was turned off, she unbuckled her seat belt and stood-up.  She casually, but deliberately, played with her blond hair.  She fluttered her dark eyelashes, heavy with black mascara, and spread her lips, painted perfectly in a deep shade of red, into a broad smile.  She made eye contact with her target, and instantly realized it was going to be easy.  He had clearly noticed her and wanted to be her hero long before her entirely unnecessary display of charm.  If he had been a dog, his tail would have been wagging back and forth so hard it would have made a very audible thump with each smack of the seat. 

“It’s the black one,” she purred.

The wrinkles around his eyes merely provided an illusion of wisdom.  The man eagerly proceeded, like a silly little boy, to remove her carry-on bag from the storage compartment above his head.  As he handed her bag to her, he pulled his shoulders back, sucked in his gut and pushed his chest out. 

“Thanks,” she sweetly said to him, and turned away.  Her mission was accomplished:  she had been saved.  She knew I was watching, turned to me and gave me a, “That’s how it’s done!” look.  I smiled back at her, but it was not a congratulatory smile. 

I looked at the man.  He was giddy with a foolish sense of accomplishment—he had, after all, just come to the rescue of a helpless woman.  She had needed him to help her.  He was a hero for assisting her.

A few minutes later at the baggage carousel, another woman flipped her long, silky, straight black hair behind her left shoulder and turned her body toward the man near her.  With theatrical expertise, she made just enough of a movement toward her luggage to let the hero by her side know it was time for him to spring to action.  As she feigned her attempt to retrieve her luggage; she looked, for just a moment, directly at her hero and offered him a sweet, shy smile.  Dutifully, he moved faster than her, and with speed and precision had the woman’s suitcase next to her.  He had the same smug look of accomplishment as the man with the carry-on bag.  Another hero saved the day.

Why does society teach women they need to be rescued, and tell men they need to rescue women?   I do not need to be rescued.   I do not need a man to save me.  If I need any fucking saving, I will do it myself.  

Often, men see me using all 5’7” of my height to lift and leverage my 10’6” long paddleboard onto the roof of my SUV, and they offer to help me.  I am strong, which I clearly have to be to get my board on and off my car.  Nothing about me says I cannot do this, yet the passing hero wants to save the woman.  Why does his manliness have to be defined by his ability to save a woman? 

Once, I let a friend quietly help me with my board because he was simply helping an exhausted person.  He knew I was returning from a very long paddle, and he understood I was spent and hypoglycemic.  When he offered to help, I said, “Thanks, I’ve got it.”  However, when I stopped with my board partially and precariously on the roof, to gather strength to push it completely onto the roof, he noticed I was struggling.  Without a word, from behind, he placed his hand on the nose of my board and gently pushed once I had resumed my pushing.   

I accepted the help because this man was not trying to be a hero; rather, he was just being empathetic and kind.  I turned to him before I secured the straps and admitted gratitude with a softly spoken, “thanks.”  Without pride, he looked at me and politely nodded before resuming rinsing the salt and sand off his board.  No hero, no rescue, no roles to play, no picket fences, nothing to prove.  Just two people, as they were.

JUST FRIENDS?

Can a woman and a man just be friends?  I am talking about a true friendship with confidence that neither person wants to get into the other person’s pants.  It is indeed possible.  I have close male friends—men I can trust to be my friends.  They are men with depth and character, who do not view all women as sexual objects. 

I was discussing the subject with one of my cherished male friends over a spicy Mexican lunch.  I savored the flavors of the Spanish rice, as the small salty grains extinguished the jalapeno-induced fire on my tongue, while my friend tried to help me better understand the typical male thought process.   I had expressed my annoyance with men who misinterpret a woman’s friendliness as romantic or sexual interest, when it is absolutely nothing other than friendliness; and with men who are seemingly nice guys, but not interested in just being friends. 

My friend explained sometimes men are simply on missions.  Whether the mission is finding a wife, a girlfriend or just getting laid, man tends to focus on his mission only.   “So an otherwise nice guy cannot just be friends with a woman who is not interested in him because he is on a mission to get laid?”  Correct.  Apparently, a man on a mission is, well, on a mission.  It would be nice if these men had a sign on their forehead indicating their mission, similar to the sign on the front of a bus showing its destination.  Or perhaps like a parking lot sign; but instead of, “Lot Full” their sign could read, “Friendships Full, Space Only for Girlfriend.”

What is the solution for women?  Do not be friendly to any men you are not interested in?  First of all, being generally unfriendly to men would be sexist and amount to acting just like the above mentioned narrow-minded men on their missions.  Secondly, if I had not been open to becoming friends with another human, regardless of gender, I would never have met some great friends.  The friendships I do have with male friends are worth having to deal with the annoying, and occasionally amusing, men on their missions.