leveling up: the power of self respect

I had an experience today that made me grow as a person.  I don’t always get to say that, but today I did.  Like many such experiences, it wasn’t one I wanted, but unlike many I’ve had, I made the most of it and grew from it.

I went out on a few dates with a woman that I really, really liked.  She wasn’t perfect, but we seemed to have a genuine connection on multiple levels.  Today, she told me as graciously as she could that she was not interested in a romantic relationship with me, and that she wanted to be friends.  There were a number of factors involved for her, but in some ways it was a real disagreement between us – I truly thought it could have worked out if we had made time for it.   I wished her the best, and hold no resentments towards her for doing what felt that she needed to do for herself, but I told her that I cannot be just friends with her, because I wasn’t interested in that kind of relationship.  This was hard, because it was a first for me.

For most of my life, whenever a romantic relationship ended, I handled the “let’s just be friends” conversation with a verbal agreement…and with a concealed intention to employ what Harris O’Malley (aka Dr. NerdLove) refers to as “the platonic friendship backdoor gambit.” This particularly loathsome move is essentially when a person agrees to be friends with someone they are primarily interested in romantically, with the hope that their prospect will one day realize that the person they call their best friend is really the one they wanted to be with romantically all along. It’s dishonest, it’s unhealthy, and perhaps most acutely, it’s painful.  Despite that, nearly all the John Hughes coming of age movies from my adolescence have some form of this situation as a basis, and I can’t tell you how many times I thought “maybe THIS is the one that catapults me from Lloyd Dobler, lovable loser, to Lloyd Dobler, guy who gets the girl.” (sidebar: How in the world did a movie with such a clearly unhealthy relationship become so foundational in depicting the kind of relationship I once thought I wanted?)

It’s not that this plot line never happens in real life.  Some people really do realize that their best platonic friend is actually their soulmate.  But more often than not, the result of trying to maintain a mere friendship with someone you’ve fallen for, particularly a close friendship, is an exponential multiplication of heartbreak as the prospective beloved finds happiness in the arms of someone other than the person who was placed in the “friendzone,” often after months of spurned advances and painful attempts to convince the other to change his or her mind.  The crazy part, in some ways, is that the friendzoned person has nobody to blame but themselves for not having clearer and stronger boundaries about what they actually want.  Their problems, as we say in Alcoholics Anonymous, are largely of their own making.

I know all of this personally, because I’ve done it repeatedly. In the wake of my second marriage, I had a short (mostly drunk) fling with a woman I never should have, and when she repeatedly told me she only wanted friendship with me, I chose instead to believe what I wanted to, rather than what she was actually saying.  When it all came crashing down, she very accurately pointed out that she was not, in fact, being cruel to me, because I had accepted the terms she had presented, but had not been honest with my own intentions.

Today I didn’t do that.

I knew going into the conversation that it was not going to be a “and then I realized how you’re so much that I’m looking for in a guy, Pete” conversation.  But I went anyway.  I have no regrets for having developed interest and feelings for her, nor do I regret telling her so. She’s a truly great person, and any man would be lucky to be loved by her. At the same time, I have no regrets for telling her we can’t be friends, because that was absolutely the truth, from the deepest, most integrated corners of my integrity.  I will miss her, short though our time together was, but I will also sleep peacefully, live deeply, and move forward well knowing that I did what was right.  A year ago, I didn’t respect myself at all, but today I have the courage to face into a situation of pain, while not sabotaging my own future happiness.


My mom passed away peacefully on Saturday, January 27th, 2018, after nearly a decade of slowly fading from some form of progressive dementia.

When people have asked how I or members of my family are handling it, there’s a part of all of us, I think, that say something about how it is a blessing in some form, given how difficult simple activities of life had become for her.  But even blessings are hard sometimes.  Mom was only 68 years old, and started showing at least beginning signs of this in her 50’s, although we didn’t notice it at the time.

One of the cruelest parts of the decline process (and there are many) was the loss of verbal skill and understanding. Mom taught me many things.  I often find myself repeating pieces of simple wisdom she imparted to me, such as “it’s only worth what someone is willing to pay for it,” or “your problem, Pete, is that you think you have to understand everything.” Mom was a reference librarian, but even before that had been a voracious reader and thinker. Mom loved words.  She enjoyed laughing at clever phrasing in books, smiling at Dad’s frequent puns, and nodding in quiet agreement as sermons were preached or scripture was read.  And her love of the Word was something she passed on easily to those she interacted with, whether it was through praying with students or friends, or teaching her children to memorize the Scriptures for themselves. The verse I still remember her teaching me most vividly – one that has repeatedly served me well throughout life – is Proverbs 15:1, which reminds us (in the King James version) that “a soft answer turneth away wrath; but grievous words stir up anger.” I remember this most vividly, I suppose, because it wasn’t just words for mom.  Many teachers and professors have made me memorize facts, figures, history, and even Scripture throughout my life, but mom taught me to memorize Scripture because it was life – and she lived this passage, and so many others like it – in a way that was impossible to ignore, and impossible to not respect, regardless of one’s faith persuasion. And as I think back on her life, and on the many things she taught me from an early age, particularly about words, and the Word, my Christian faith tradition also reminds me that death, even death through slow decline, does not have the final word.

Thanks be to God.