Your Ex-Boyfriend Will Hate This (2015)

Chapter Thirteen

Your Way

The two books referenced in the last chapter are by no means the only examples of baffling-to-insulting dating advice you can find on the web and in print. My rule of thumb about self-help books is the same as it is for any kind of advice: if the advice sounds dumb or nonsensical, chances are outstanding that it is dumb or nonsensical.

Good advice illuminates something that we’ve not thought of before. It often does this in a way that, once the new idea or observation is mentioned, you marvel that you didn’t think of it yourself. It seems natural, and you instinctively sense that the advice provides a smart plan for future action.

As Malcolm Gladwell so expertly demonstrated in his book, Blink, instinct often better indicates what you should do than careful and meticulous study. The research examples Gladwell provides are both numerous and far-reaching. He quotes studies on subjects as disparate as popular music, the medical profession, military training, gambling, and divorce. Over and over again, the power and legitimacy of instinct comes through.

This doesn’t mean every instinct you have will be right. Gladwell also talks about our subconscious programming, a latent set of codes, biases, and ways of interacting with the world that we aren’t aware of. Those of us who were raised in dysfunctional environments (I include myself in the group) have a kind of faulty programming about certain things. For example, if you were attacked by a dog at a young age, it’s likely that you’re instinctively mistrustful or even afraid of dogs as an adult. Even after some kind of therapy, it’s likely that your instinctive reaction will be mistrust or fear, although in your conscious mind you no longer fear dogs.

I mention this potential for faulty instincts as it dovetails nicely with an exercise I want you to try. Take a piece of paper and draw a line down the middle. On one side, write the qualities that you want in a romantic partner. I’m not going to suggest what those qualities should be. As I’ve said previously, these are your rules, not mine. However, the qualities should relate to a man’s direct interaction with you (for instance, “good listener”), and those behaviors which affect you indirectly (for instance, “good with money”).

Once you’ve written down everything (wrack your brain) you want, move to the second column. Now do a mental inventory of the men you’ve dated. Try to come up with a composite showing regular patterns in the men you choose. Now go through the qualities in the first column and write either yes or no next to each one in the second column. Yes, most of my boyfriends have had this quality or no, they have not. Give the answers serious, thorough consideration. I’m not asking whether you’ve ever dated someone with these fine qualities. At some point in your life, you could’ve encountered many of these positives, if not necessarily in the same person. This is a discussion of averages. If a majority of your boyfriends have been good listeners (if that quality is on your list), write “yes.” Otherwise, write “no.”

After you’ve gone through the entire list and answered to the best of your ability, think about patterns of behavior that you didn’t list. What are some other commonalities among your exes? Are there good qualities you didn’t think of? Equally important, are there bad ones that show up repeatedly? Write any additional consistent qualities you’ve noticed in your exes, both good and bad, in the left column, and put a “yes” next to it in the right.

Now sit back and take a look at the result. How closely does your “perfect” man mirror the reality of your previous boyfriends or partners? Did you often answer yes in the right places? If so, give yourself a pat on the back. Either you’ve become proficient at choosing potential mates from the outset, or you’ve learned how to articulate your needs well enough to weed out unworthy men before wasting an undue amount of time on them.

Both of these skills improve with practice and, like any other practiced skill, they begin to function nearly at the level of instinct. For a comparison, let us look at professional baseball players. To hit a pitch thrown at major league speeds (anywhere from 80-105 miles per hour) requires instantaneous decisions from the millisecond the ball leaves the pitcher’s hand. Hitters don’t “see” the baseball crossing the plate and adjust their swings accordingly. The limitations of human sight and agility make it a literal impossibility to do so, given the sheer speed at which the baseball moves and the short distance (about sixty feet between pitcher and batter) it travels.

So how the hell do hitters ever hit the stupid ball?

Yes, professional players are more athletically gifted than most of us. Yes, their strength, speed, and agility all play roles in what happens after the pitch is released, but you’d be surprised at how little these skills determine whether or not the hitter makes contact with the ball. A study of the reflex times of major league players surprisingly showed that their reaction times aren’t significantly faster than the average person. Rather, professionals generally have better eyesight (pro players average above 20/20 vision), as well as lots and lots of practice.[xlvi]

Back to how they hit a baseball. Seeing as it’s impossible to react to the flight of a baseball as it nears the plate, players rely on keen sight and educated guesswork. Anticipating the trajectory and speed of a baseball comes down to a few simple factors: the position of the pitcher arm, his grip on the ball, knowledge of his pitching patterns, and familiarity with the basic speed of his various pitches. That’s pretty much it. Bat speed and superior coordination may affect where and how far the ball travels after it is hit, but the players can’t do anything without good instincts.

That’s all well and good, but I’m not the starting shortstop for the New York Yankees. I’m trying to find a guy who doesn’t forget my birthday and isn’t pathologically allergic to foreplay.

Don’t worry, there is a point here. Take a look at your worksheet again. Perhaps you’re staring down at a sea of disappointing “no” answers, which doesn’t make you foolish or hopeless. But these answers do indicate a rift between your conscious desires and what your mischievous little subconscious is seeking out. Like the tug-of-war that can occur between your heart and your loins, bad programming (a problem I understand firsthand) is a conflict between your conscious and subconscious mind.

Do any of the following phrases sound familiar?

I want someone who treats me right, but I always end up with selfish bad boys.

I want someone who is financially stable, but I always choose deadbeat losers whom I end up supporting.

I want a sensitive lover, but I always end up with “wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am” assholes who just want to get off and go to sleep.

We aren’t born with these kinds of faulty instincts. We learn them from the way we’re taught to think about ourselves and by observing the relationships around us. It’s no coincidence that many women in the sex trade (strippers, porn actors, prostitutes) have “daddy issues” or were victims of sexual abuse growing up. If you never had a father or, worse, had one that subjected you to constant scorn, humiliation, and physical or sexual abuse, you have either no model for acceptable male behavior or a tragically perverse one. By the same token, if the only male/female relationships in your youth were hateful, violent, or cruelly uncaring, why would you believe they could be otherwise?

If you’ve been taught these terrible “lessons” in your childhood, it doesn’t mean there is no hope for happy, healthy relationships as an adult. It just means that you’ll need to work diligently and with sustained commitment to retrain these malformed “instincts.” Therapy is the best way to do this. A good therapist can help you identify the underlying dysfunctional patterns that thwart your opportunity for fulfillment and self-actualization and work with you toward undoing them. Seek out a therapist with whom you feel absolutely comfortable. If you feel hesitant to share your entire self (including your darkest fears and most shameful secrets) with the first therapist you encounter, try another one and another one and another one until you find one who makes you feel safe. You’re his or her boss, no matter how qualified and authoritative the therapist is. If one makes you feel anxious, hesitant to share, or talked down to, put him or her out right on his or her highly-educated, hyper-literate, and oh-so-condescending ass. (Figuratively speaking, of course. Don’t ever give your therapist a literal beating, no matter how much the smug prick may deserve it.)

As pro ballplayers can attest, instinct is a skill you can improve. The key is to have an awareness of your weaknesses (like repeatedly choosing insensitive, selfish, or shiftless men) and a commitment to overcoming them. In terms of our “programming” metaphor, identifying the problem is the first huge step in correcting it. Your worksheet identifies the gap between what you think you want and what you’re actually experiencing.

So why are you not getting what you want? There are a couple of possible answers. One is that you aren’t yet perfectly adept at expressing what you want. That’s an understandable dilemma faced by people of both sexes everywhere, and we will address it more in depth in the next chapter. The other potential issue is one more directly related to that little subconscious internal computer we all have.

Earlier I mentioned the story of a girlfriend, Susan, who always laments how lousy her “luck” has historically been with men. She always dates assholes, and most of them have another consistent characteristic she likes to ignore whenever we discuss her love life—they’re crazy. Not “Joe got drunk last night and did a strip tease on top of the bar while singing the Auburn fight song” crazy. We’re talking “Joe showed up at my house at 3:00 a.m., refused to leave when I wouldn’t let him in, punched two cops when they showed up, and then screamed that he was going to kill me as they pushed him into the squad car” crazy.

In four successive relationships, Susan “ended up” with guys who were some combination of bipolar, suicidal, hyper-obsessive, narcissistic, autistic, pathological, and sociopathic. None of them were able to relate to others in any way that approximated normal human behavior. The most recent one was a guy I nicknamed “HAL” (short for “Heuristically programmed Algorithmic Computer”) after the homicidal-yet-alarmingly-polite computer in Stanley Kubrick’s seminal 1960 sci-fi film, 2001: A Space Odyssey. If you’ve not seen the movie, this sentient computer aboard a spaceship allows one of the crew to die when he discovers that the crew member intends to shut down his circuits. HAL is a perfect nickname for a guy who never raised his voice much above a whisper, even when he said things that identified him as a perfect case study for the FBI Serial Crimes Unit.

I recall one occasion when this boyfriend of Susan’s told me he often dreamt of ways in which he was going to die, always in horrifically graphic and grotesque ways. When I sympathized about how troubling those recurring nightmares must be for him, he looked at me quizzically and said, “Why? Those are the happiest dreams I have.”

Would it surprise you to know that he didn’t take it too well when Susan broke up with him? Would it surprise you to know he still followed her around when she went out, quietly watching her from a table by himself, almost two years later? Did I mention that they only dated for three months? Fortunately, nothing awful happened as a result of this relationship. When her friends found out he’d moved to Montana for a job, we threw him a “Thank God You Are Going Away” party in his absence.

My friend argues that HAL was harmless, because he never laid a finger on her before or after the relationship, but if I had to place a bet on one guy to win “Most Likely to Have a Crawl Space Full of Dead Prostitutes,” I’d bet on him.

Susan repeatedly professes to want a nice, normal guy who’s easy-going, treats her kindly, and creates no drama—but then she goes and picks guys who do none of that. I initially thought she was consciously lying about what she wants, but after observing her over time, I think the truth is more troubling. What she really wants (or rather, what her seriously-malprogrammed internal PC wants) is exactly what she gets. She simply has no conscious awareness of it or, equally likely, has conditioned herself to be willfully ignorant of it. I’ve begged Susan to talk to someone about this, but she always dismisses my suggestion.

“My luck will change some day,” she says. “There is a great guy out there for me. I just have to keep looking.”

An often-repeated quote attributed to Benjamin Franklin defines insanity as “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” For Susan, insanity is dating the same creep over and over again and expecting him not to end up on America’s Most Wanted.

Who you get in your love life is right there on the worksheet, and if you get this guy repeatedly, there is a good chance that, no matter how dysfunctional your Mr. Right is, he’s what you really want. If that upsets you, then it’s time to do something about it. Maybe it starts with therapy. Maybe it starts with a trusted religious advisor. But if you’re reading this book for any reason other than recreation, you aren’t happy with your choices.

In the next chapter, we’ll start to figure out how to stand up to those stupid subconscious computers of ours and demand someone better.