Love by Outer Standards

I moved to Manhattan in the early 1980′s. A time period of rampant crime, the daily dangers of living in the city were etched into its population. The tough mistrusting exterior that had been adopted by most of its residents, was born of necessity. It was at that time, I found warmth in the friendship of a woman I will call “P”.

P’s outgoing manner was one of kindness, stemming from the belief that “people are inherently good.” Naive perhaps, but lovely none the less. This is a basic construct, when raised in the security of a small mid-western town. In this way, our values coincided. There was, however, one major area of divisiveness that tainted our friendship— P. had crafted a scheme to become a grand lady of society. She wanted the same, for me. While that goal was common in many young women seeking security, it was the manner by which she went about it that eventually caused our friendship to end. Perhaps due to her modest beginnings, this was something she felt she must conquer. I didn’t care, as it was not my goal. This small arena served as a departure from all else that she held as sacred— in truth, honesty and authenticity.

With her sights firmly fixed on capturing one of the many powerful and successful men Manhattan had to offer, she dated with a vengeance. Having a few marriages under her belt by the time I met her, this time she was seeking true love— with a high net worth. P. was a woman of vast incongruity. She had a loving disposition, was charming and spiritually curious. P. studied Metaphysics voraciously, and applied the tenets of positive thinking to her daily life. Her main usage of these Principles revolved around husband hunting.

P. did find her “perfect” husband. He had the right job and right credentials. An executive in a prestigious Manhattan firm, his title bestowed numerous perks of empowerment and a corporate expense account. Yet, in our daily phone calls, she would agonize over her troubles… his philandering with mistresses, prostitutes, and bouts of alcohol/drug abuse. Routinely absent on her birthday and their anniversary, he sent the prescribed two-dozen roses to show his affection. When they traveled to exotic destinations he’d often be gone for days at a time.

In contrast, I lived with my boyfriend. We had a great life, and a great relationship. He was devoted, supportive, and totally available in every way. He was also 16 years younger. While P. subscribed to the belief that younger men are good for fun, she repeatedly counseled me to “Screw him, but for God’s sake, don’t fall in love with him.” She insisted that I think better of myself, and have a higher sense of self-esteem. To P., it wasn’t just the fact that my boyfriend was 16 years younger. He had an entry-level job. Not a big surprise, as he was just out of college. Her husband had another twenty years in which to establish himself. She couldn’t be seen in public with us, because it was too uncomfortable. She criticized my choice of partner to no end, and covertly set up blind dates for me to attend. Though concerned for my best interest, and with all good intentions, she forced her objectives into each and every conversation.

This was the counsel of a woman who cared for me. But it was also the counsel of a woman who’d convinced herself she “had it all,” as she looked to her reflection in the outer world. While she and her husband appeared to be a “power couple,” few knew their behind-the-scenes drama. One day she called completely inconsolable—- she had a lump in her breast. If she lost a breast, she was sure her husband would leave her. She believed she had to be beautiful and perfect, or he would discard her. After all, that was the construct upon which this relationship was based. Whether fear or fact, the lump was benign and that belief wasn’t to be tested. Yet, I wondered how she could have such a deep rift in her inner and outer reality, and still keep up the arduous performance of being the “honored trophy wife.”

Here’s the twist. Upon reading this, you may be thinking P. was shallow idiot, justifying a loveless marriage. Not true. She was deeply loving, and profoundly committed to living her spiritual beliefs. She and her husband had an affection for each other. He wasn’t a blatant cad, and she wasn’t a self-absorbed gold-digger. P.’s real problem was that when she got her “socially acceptable” man, she forced him into a “socially acceptable” box. He was, at heart, a renegade. He didn’t want to wear a dinner jacket when dining at home. He didn’t want to live by her numerous dictates of strict social protocol. His reaction to all this was rebellion— not out of hatred for her, but to salvage any type of personal freedom he could steal on the sly.

P. was tied to the outer reference of a world she imagined, lived this way. After all, that’s what they do in the movies. She desperately needed the nod of approval from high society. While single, she had pasted pictures on her refrigerator of all the things she desired—beautiful homes, luxurious vacations, and a stunningly powerful man in a tuxedo. She finally got her vision. But here’s the rub. They filed for separation.

When we get our vision… whose vision is it? What is it we want that resides behind the external images we seek? If it’s the cardboard cut-out version, we may just get it. And that’s all. We can indeed get the life we want and need. The method for this is honest self appraisal, clarity on our own desires, and an authentic foundation for partnership. P. had the right idea, but the foundation wasn’t real. You can’t get real, from fake. A “looking good” partner is just that— they look good. A partner who offers you an outer world you like while grounded and real on the interior, is the better option for success. Then you have true success— in both worlds.