Friday night Barbie with Brains and I reunited and it felt so good. We gathered to celebrate on the eve of her son’s wedding, in a town known for quickie marriages that lack staying power, Las Vegas. I met him when he was a boy and now he is a gentle, open-hearted and sweet man. Genuine, loving and kind. Just like his Mama. Knowing how he was raised, this marriage will go the distance.
If not for The Genius, BwB and I would not have met over 15 years ago, in a hotel bar in the city of London. I recall in great detail the evening of our meeting and the days that followed as we bonded over sightseeing and late night wine fests while our husbands worked. She bought an anniversary gift for her husband in The Hague – two wine glasses. We stood and gawked at the masterpiece, The Execution of Lady Jane Grey, hanging in the National Gallery in London. We sat at a tiny, round table in a centuries old room, darkened by wood walls, red drapes and low lights, at the foot of a staircase that held halfway up a stunning grandfather clock. On our table sat a bottle of wine left by the bartender so we need not interrupt our conversation to get his attention. By the end of the evening there was more than one. A small, light-colored figure ran along the nearly black wood paneled wall. We shrieked, not necessarily because we were scared of mice, but because all of our senses were heightened by being in each other’s company. Laughter followed for several minutes.
We had lunch in a castle. After eating we stepped outside to greet the host’s pet elephants.
I’m not kidding.
From the night of our first meeting I felt a bond with BwB that goes beyond friendship. We are in many ways an extension of each other. We share the same name. Our journeys look alike in formative ways, to include infidelity and divorce. Our green eyes see life in much the same fashion. Over the years we’ve only seen each other a dozen or so times, but we are so emotionally close that physical separation has meant nothing. The same day The Genius, the dudes and I moved into our rental home in Marin after moving from the East, BwB and her husband moved from the Bay Area to Seattle. We were this close to living near each other for the first time.
Now, I will wave to her as I climb Mt. Rainier, if I can see through the snow.
Remarkably, we will be growing old together as she and her husband plan to move to Bolinas or thereabouts to retire. And I plan on never leaving.
What are the chances…
She remarried after her divorce. He’s perfect for her. The next best part? He’s perfect for me, too. We both love nature and fishing and sports. He’s warm and funny and he loves her completely. For who she is as a person. After his speech honoring the bride and groom, we spoke about falling in love after divorce.
I found my best friend, he said.
Inside I wondered, Why do husbands and wives betray each other but best friends rarely do by comparison? It happens, but not half the time. Not even close. Especially after we escape the brutal high school years.
And what do best friends have that spouses don’t? One significant characteristic is the willingness to be vulnerable. More than willing, we nearly demand that our best friends tell us everything and be open 24/7 so we can offload our fears and hopes, sins and dashed dreams and future fairy tales. Manning that confessional is a key responsibility of the best friend.
Best friends earn the designation by not judging and loving unconditionally. And dealing with a whole lot of unburdening. It’s a big job. But we cherish it. It feels good to be a best friend. To be married to your best friend must be the best feeling in the world.
Way better than being the female version of the World’s Most Interesting Man.
Do you recall when I decided that was my destiny? Maybe you thought I was being funny. Or clever for the sake of spinning a tale. But I really believed it. I envisioned a future with just the right amount of fascinating encounters with men to whom my greatest commitment would be to show up on time and be interesting.
The World’s Most Interesting Woman would spend her time in Vegas on The Strip. I was miles away tucked up against the rugged, red striped mountains. She would hold court, the life of the party. When not at wedding festivities, I sat in the midst of the action, invisible. I observed the boys’ clubs, the flirts, the gaggle of bachelorettes and bachelors and the bump and grind that Vegas demands of its visitors, completely alone. Over the course of three days one person engaged with me in a conversation, a woman. She was divorced and looking for love. The most important attribute in her desired mate?
Sexual chemistry. I guess she was looking for lust and hoping it would turn into love.
What I once thought would be a fulfilling way to spend the balance of my days as an unattached woman felt like The Strip – too loud, too bright, too depleting. And so not me.
This journey has been about digging deep. Excavating to uncover all the parts of me that have been buried or forgotten. I’ve been tending to my relationship with myself for two years now. The idea that I would be satisfied or attracted to a relationship with another that was anything other than a deep soul connection is silly. Completely counter to what I believe life is all about.
I was protecting myself. Afraid of making a mistake. Standing behind a shield. Pretending I was something that I wasn’t. Which would have insured that I made the wrong choices, repelling the right people.
…so this is what it means to live authentically.
Being honest with yourself and genuine with others.
This may be old news to you all, but I’m have a revelatory moment right now…
The detours I’ve taken in life are a result of not living as I really am, which means that I felt that who I was wasn’t good enough. I made choices not because they were the right choices for me, but because I wanted to create a picture that was different than the one I painted before I got here. I made choices based on how things looked rather than how they felt.
Case in point – I spoke a while back about my first true love. He wasn’t a mover and shaker, not flashy. He was a bit nerdy in high school but had blossomed into a handsome man, to me. He worked in a little cafe in my home town having dropped out of college. He was a really simple guy. Loved his dog, hiking, camping and me. We were truly in love. He would have never hurt me. Oh, goodness…here come the tears. One night I said,
I can’t marry you.
He hadn’t even asked. I just wanted to be sure he didn’t. He cried. I cried. I had no good reason for my statement and some reasons that, in hindsight, prove that I had no clue who I really was and what really mattered to me. I wanted the guy who was on a fast track, who had big, big dreams that were brimming with excitement and promise. Not the guy who wanted the small and simple home at the base of a mountain, who selected a job that gave him the freedom to hike and mountain bike and fish. I wanted to fly through the sky to distant lands and he wanted to lay under a sky with my head on his shoulder and stare at the stars.
I moved to the city and he moved to Wyoming.
He lived happily ever after, until his wife cheated on him.
I wasn’t mature enough then to have known that we were a perfect match.
I don’t need bright and shiny. I’m not looking for a character in a story that I want to tell. And I’m sure not looking for a cluster of men to hang on my words and vie for my attention.
I’m not even looking.
Because he’s already here. For the last month I’ve felt his energy. Calm. Serene. Happy. At peace. Living his life how he always imagined he would live it. I will know it’s him on sight. But there won’t be any dramatic score or Cupid’s arrows flying overhead. No rush to love or losing sight of my path. I don’t even think I’ll get butterflies. We won’t court or date or dance around getting to know each other. We’ll become best friends. Neither of us will need to make any concessions. I’ll be myself – vulnerable, honest, and open. And he’ll feel safe, too. It won’t be buzzy or shiny. No one will fall hard or fast.
Basically, it’ll be anticlimactic in the most perfect way.
Now I know why Vegas was on the docket on the eve of my divorce. I celebrated all the right things – a wedding, not the dismantling of one, best friends not lovers, and my true self, not the persona I thought would keep me entertained and safe.
What I thought was a playful post written poolside became a post for me to ponder that slowly came out over the weekend and was wrapped this morning in Bolinas. Last night, as I drove down the gravel lane that leads to my cottage I got lost in the bumps along the edge of the road, trying to see what the message was going to be for me in all these words. Halfway down the lane I saw the image of me as The World’s Most Interesting Woman and then it vanished.
That’s not me! I laughed. And then swerved the car to avoid hitting a massive, antlered deer who was resting, legs tucked under him, half on the grass that bordered the gravel drive. His enormous brown eyes met mine from 3 feet away. He rose – I swear I thought he was going to stick his head through my car window and make out with me – and walked into the woods.
Good. She’s finally home.
Love yourself,
Cleo
“I found my best friend, he said.”
But don’t most marriages start out that way, even when they’re preceded by an “in lust” (not a good way to start, IMO) phase? When my estranged husband and I first met, lust was the bond, but over time we felt like best friends. We checked in with each other on all decisions, major and minor (even without cell phones and the internet), and so we married because it seemed we were meant to be together forever. But we ended up not best friends because he chose to build a separate life “out there”–as a rock star–instead of nurturing his home life. Home was merely a pit stop on the way to the next gig. He craved the accolades and, I’m sure, the attention of female hangers-on… and he made the decision to respond to a few of them behind my back, and shattered the 30-year marriage.
I’m like you–not looking for someone else, but not closed to the idea either (but I’m much older than you, so it’s not that likely; as a “music widow” for over two decades, I’ve learned to live alone and am pretty set in my ways now). One thing is for sure: If it does happen, the person will be a good friend and nothing else, for a long period. Over time, I will discover his true character (and see his family relationships). If he doesn’t seem to be good spouse material, no loss, no broken hearts. We can just continue appreciate each other as friends.
N,
You know souls are ageless, right? And that souls consider the human body a transportation device with benefits. It gets us here and makes it possible to be here, and yes, it ages. But it’s never too old to be loved. Just want to make sure we’re on the same page.
I don’t believe most marriages start out as friends, especially those that begin in the 20s and 30s. I’d say it’s a slim percentage. Most start out as one or both people identifying with who they pictured marrying. Some start out with who they will settle for in order to finally marry. Some marry the image of their mother or father, trying unconsciously to fix some lingering issue from youth. Gosh, there are a thousand ways to pick the wrong marriage partner.
You mentioned that ‘over time’ you and your former husband felt like best friends after a lustful beginning. We both now see the importance of reversing that. For me, spouse never. And, if I don’t find that friend I will not look back on the years as any less fulfilling. I am thrilled to be alive, spinster or not.
And grateful to have you here, m’lady.
Love yourself,
Cleo
I don’t know why, but this post made me cry. Not in a bad way. But it made me very emotional. I wonder why that is?
Thanks Cleo. Great post.
C,
Me, too! I haven’t figured it out yet. Maybe it’s because I’m getting closer to my true self, and because we are all so closely tied in this journey you are experiencing the same thing?
It’s been a very unexpected reaction. So, clearly one to ponder. Something is in here. Let me know if you find it. And thank you for your kind words.
Love yourself,
Cleo
I know what it is, Cleo. This post was so real, so human, so raw. You’ve inspired us all with your pursuits and your incredible attitude in the midst of your old life coming undone. But this? This post was told to us as if you were looking us in the eye, holding our hands, as we watched the tears form in your green eyes. I think we all have a man we left behind with regret. You are a magical writer.
S,
Thank you so much for your kind words. These five – You are a magical writer – Wow. I’ve wanted to hear them all my life from someone that didn’t give birth to me. Although I love it when she says them, too! Hmmm…you aren’t by any chance posing as…Nah.
Thank you, S. I will hold these words close forever. So grateful.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Well my love this is it, the absolute best one yet. No, not because it was in part about us but because you’ve found out what I did a few years ago…funny how we each must get to the answer about friendship and authenticity on our own. No one can really help us there…you climbed Rainier, Everest and Kilimanjaro all in a weekend! Wow I’m so proud of you my sister, my friend and most of all happy…just do you as no one does you better! I live by that now and never live an unhappy day.
Mr. Football and I love you and can’t wait to see you this spring….maybe sooner(: I may need a trek to Bolinas
I love you….
B,
You are so sweet. Thank you. You’ve been a guide, a few steps ahead on the path. I didn’t hit on that in the post but it’s been a comfort to me to know that you’ve been there.
Love this: Do you, as no one does you better. Love!
I will be knocking on your door, crampons in hand, this March. A hug, some quinoa and an ice bath, please. I love you.
Love yourself,
Cleo
Laughing so hard, but loving your revelation… what a beautiful coincidence that I’m at a similar point. I, too, thought I would be happy being the World’s Most Interesting Woman. I have been the life of the party that has been my life for the past two years. I have just recently landed at the same point you are. We are not alone, even though we feel very much so. And that’s a comforting thought. Thank you for your insighful and clever posts. Keep going!
D,
A sense of humor for this journey is better than dark chocolate, tequila and an Argentinian names Javier! Ever other hour it seems I utter this: Just when I think I’ve got it figured out…
I am so grateful you are here with me on this journey. I have been able to laugh and love and be brave because I am supported so lovingly by all of you. Thank you for being here.
Love yourself,
Cleo
This was unbelievable – thinking it may possibly be your best ! Open honest & carefree from the heart. I adore you
C,
Thank you, m’lady. I need to pay special attention to this post. The reaction has been hugely unexpected as I felt it was a simple, quiet post with a revelation that I thought I had already experienced. In other words, anticlimactic. Something lurks in these words that I haven’t yet uncovered. I find myself going back to reread again and again.
Your words confirm that I need to spend some more time with these words…
You, of course, rock for that.
Love yourself,
Cleo
I’ve read your story from the beginning over the weekend. Having experienced infidelity in my failed marriage and now in my “committed” relationship after, I’m in the flailing, soul crushingly painful aftermath of my own version of The Pocket Call. Your stories, your words have brought me such comfort. When I read them I feel like you, The Universe, someone is reaching out and hugging me. Telling me, “There, there. Dry your eyes. It will be okay”. I can’t express my gratitude enough. Thank you.
A,
I am grateful you found HGM. Thank you for your kind words and for taking the time to comment.
I just spent the last few minutes trying to put myself in your shoes. To experience infidelity twice? I’d need more than a blog and a lot of love to keep me together. I am here for whatever you need to help you move through this experience. Right at this very moment I am excited for you. I feel you gathering steam, turning inward, falling in love, discovering things about your self you never acknowledged, reorienting your dreams and optimistically, with good reason, heading up the mountain.
Stay close, A. We are here for you.
Love yourself,
Cleo
My favorite post. Thank you.
S,
Thank you for letting me know. I’m grateful that it touched you. And that you are here. Stay close…
Love yourself,
Cleo
Dear Fairy Godblogger,
This one really hit home. I think I even gasped a little. I, too, was looking for the shiny, the fast track, the excitement. And not because I liked it, that it fulfilled me in some way (all of that actually fills me with dread) but because I felt I wasn’t enough. I felt that if a man like that chose me for his wife it would say something about me, to me. I was dazzled by those men. I was told they are the ones of worth. But really, what does a voracious reader of fiction, classics, non-fiction, biographies, philosophy, psychology, etc. have in common with someone who thinks Sports Illustrated’s College Football Edition is a weighty tome? Not judging him – it’s just such a mismatch. I like to talk music, ideas, emotions, politics, history – him? Box scores, mid-season trades, stock market, and what teams will make it to the bowl games. Don’t get me wrong – I love sports! I just can’t parlay sports into a reason to live. Throughout my marriage I’ve felt as if my brain has shriveled to to size of a raisin. Because I chose to marry the anti-me. I married a man with the depth of a wading pool. Then I spent the next seventeen years trying to dig under that tiny pool so I could add more water. And I’m coming to realize how unfair I’ve been, expecting a Picasso from a man who can barely draw a stick figure.
So, I was wondering, Fairy Godblogger, can you wave your magic wand and make me 22 again? I promise I won’t screw it all up this time.
Love,
Cinder-what-the-hella
S,
Gem of the Day!: I felt that if a man like that chose me for his wife it would say something about me, to me.
Count yourself in the majority, I imagine. The Prince chooses a woman who is worthy of being a Princess. Voila, she is transformed. We want to be that woman. Then we realize he’s not so Prince-ish. We would have been a better fit with the butler.
It’s such a losing proposition. We seek out what we don’t need which in turn can’t satisfy us and leaves us feeling less than lovable. But for those of us who have gone this route I am certain it’s by design. It’s not because we made a mistake. A mistake would be to not figure out why we created this reality for ourselves.
Hmmm…
Now, your wish to be 22. I’m not gonna do it. Because your magic is happening now, not then. Don’t go back when you are so close to finally realizing how spectacular you are today. Could you imagine the guilt trip I would have if I sent you back to the time of frat parties and beer pong and pizza at 3AM? You will have a much better time in the present finding the man who wants nothing more than to paint your portrait. Over and over.
I am so stoked I have a magic wand. Thank you, S.
Love yourself,
Cleo
C., I hope that you find someone who is your best friend and lover AND gives you butterflies. <3
E,
How gluttonous of you! And so sweet. Thank you.
Could you imagine that post??!
Love yourself,
Cleo
My dear Cleo and friends: I too was in the thrall of the “interesting guy” the “hot guy” and that was what I wanted to attract. After some bad experiences I met a lovely, intelligent, low key guy who is smart, funny, and kind and is hot in his own very low key way. He’s a self described geek who hates dancing. However, in spite of that failing we have been together for 18 years and married for 14. I got burned by the “hot ones” as we do but so glad I met the un hot one. The night we met it was like meeting a soul mate – in the sense of no butterflies but thinking I think I have known this person all my life, where have you been. A simple sense of: oh there you are. He never asked me to change myself – he never says I need to go on a diet or agree with his ideas about god. No gloating here, because I had my share of misery, I just think that when you met the person there is no drama there is just a sense of knowing.
Cleo you are on your way, I see wings under you and I see happiness all around you. And you will make it up that mountain.
A,
Yes, yes, yes! There is no drama (good, bad or electric) when you meet a person who will only serve to elevate your already beautiful self. They don’t want or need anything from you and don’t want to make you whole. Just to be. Together. Walk alongside each other and marvel at the beauty of the human existence. We must be whole as the result of our own self love. It’s the only way.
I am so happy for you. You have brought a massive smile to my face. Thank you for your kind words of support and for being here. Stay close…
Love yourself,
Cleo