I’ve been fairly lucky in love in that even in my relatively short time dating, I have experienced some great love. The love of cheesy movies and letters passed down to grandchildren (literally, my college ex wrote me letters from overseas every day for four months). I remember how we met: on a cruise ship somewhere between Italy and Spain. I remember how our courtship started: he wrote me an email and called me the Jewel of the sea (our cruise ship’s namesake as well) and so began nearly 4 years of one of the most beautiful, passionate romances I have ever been witness to, never mind experienced. I remember our breakup too: a tearful embrace in the foyer of my apartment building, an uncertainty of when we’d see each other again (It’ll be two years this March).

In a perfect world, this great story would have led to our great love and our great love to a great relationship and subsequent marriage. But we weren’t right for each other and we knew it probably from very early on in the relationship. So what made us stick it out, aside from our young-twenties inexperience? What makes so many people try to fix something broken? The beauty of the story.

We loved telling our story. We loved when people told us how brave we were to try and work things out with an ocean between us. Every trip to see each other was the next hit of a powerful drug, reaffirmed by the praise and admiration we received from friends, acquaintances, and family. But behind closed doors, when no one was telling us how cute we looked together, we knew it wasn’t working.

You know what makes for a better story than how you met? How you stayed together. How you stayed happy together. My admiration is not for those who are lucky enough to meet in a wonderfully poetic way, my admiration is for those who met in a completely ordinary fashion and worked together to turn their relationship into something extraordinary.

Happy dating!

-Mel

Don’t get stuck in a relationship because you like the “idea” of the relationship, you need to love being in the relationship as much as — or more — than you like being alone. Don’t enter into a relationship because you like the “idea” of the other person, you need to love the other person as much as (although not more than) you love yourself. The idea of you and me should make you happy, should make you see the future, should inspire you and excite you. It won’t always be pretty, life never is, but do you really want to live your life based on an “idea”?

In my life I am surrounded by a number of couples who have been married for a long time and are still very much in love. This past week, as my uncle neared the end of his life, I was witness to the love between my aunt and him. Although I do not envy her current situation, she spent 30 years completely, totally and utterly in love with her husband as he was with her. And that I envy. You don’t get there after 2 years of marriage, or 10 years, but after a few decades and gallons of stress to make you stronger. You don’t fall in love at first sight, but over the course of many, many years. What I do know is that my aunt and uncle were partners in everything they did and fought to make their marriage as strong as it was. I don’t know if my aunt will ever find love again, but if she does it won’t replace my uncle, but rather it will be another stage in her life.

Steve and Laurene Jobs on the day of Steve's last keynote. Twenty+ years married.

First of all, let me preface this by saying that this post is going to be a little heavier than my typical light-hearted and sarcasm-filled posts here on JDate.

For those of you who don’t use Facebook, Twitter, an iPhone®, read the news, watch the news…but still manage to read JBlog, Steve Jobs died yesterday. Now, you might be wondering why that’d be something I’d find relevant enough to share on a dating blog, but bear with me for a sec.

I worked at Apple for two years back in 2004, and for years before that, I’d already been a fan of their products. It was only as an employee, and later on as an entrepreneur, that I began to truly understand the ingenuity that is Steve Jobs. The man could surely teach you about business (Apple is the largest company in the world, based on valuation) and living (see below) but I’m about to tell you that he could probably teach you about love too.

Steve Jobs was famous for bringing up this typically unattributed quote during his Stanford University commencement speech in 2005. He said, “If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you’ll most certainly be right” and added that “remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”

What if, instead of talking about life, you made this quote about love? If you knew you had 24 hours to live, would you behave any differently in your love life than you do today? Would you finally tell him or her that you’ve been in love with him/her for years? Would you stay in the relationship you’re in knowing that it isn’t working, despite both of your efforts? Would you call back that guy you met and had a great date with last month but never heard back from and ask him what happened? Would you be as scared of getting hurt?

Probably the most solid, important piece of advice I have ever gotten about love and relationships is that “no matter how hurt you get, emotionally, you are still going to wake up the next day” and that there are not many things, when it comes to pain, that this statement applies to. Our hearts, not as in the physical, anatomical organ beating in our chests, but the emotional component of “our hearts” that allows us to love deeply and feel hurt, will still be beating even after we are rejected, broken up with, divorced from…it is truly the most resilient part of us.

So my question to you, as is my question to many clients who come to me with fear-based rationalizations as to why they won’t take a risk when it comes to their love life is — why aren’t you exploiting the resilience and strength of this beautiful heart you have to increase your chances at finding real, can’t get enough, absolutely fantastic love?

We take risks every single day that put us in the risk of physical pain! We play extreme sports, knowing our body might hurt after. We ride motorcycles (sometimes foolishly without helmets) knowing we might fall and injure ourselves. We go to the gym and lift weights because breaking down those muscles hurts but it build them back better, faster, stronger.

Well guess what, literally speaking, your heart is muscle too.

So yes, you may, and I’ll go as far to say that you probably will get hurt. But your heart, and you too, will come out of it better, faster, stronger.

And one day, when you’re hesitating to take the risk to leave someone or love someone or propose to someone or accept someone’s proposal because you want it to work out for the best but are afraid it might not, ask yourself:

“What would Steve Jobs do?”

And if that’s not enough for you, or you don’t care about what Steve Jobs would do, then think of this, what I am saying to you now:

“No matter how hurt you get, emotionally, you are still going to wake up the next day.”

I truly hope all of you have a great day…now go out there and fall in love.

Got a question, comment, love letter to send? Reply below or send Mel a private e-mail here.

I am reaching a critical point in my life. My job affords me enough money to possibly buy a new car, yet I am morally opposed to buying something when I can just as easily not buy it and have a lot more money. I drive a 1997 Volvo S90. It is fantastic. It provides every luxury demanded by my cosmopolitan lifestyle. Namely, the air conditioning works and the wheels turn.

I started thinking, though, that in order to date successfully, I should get a car that isn’t the personification of my lifetime of shortcomings. Maybe there’s more to life than a functional air conditioner and an AM/FM radio. I don’t want to be that guy with all the high tech gadgets like tinted windows and power steering. I got so caught up in the comfort of American amenities that I forgot who I was inside. I don’t need a working radio or seatbelts in order to live. I need seatbelts that are approved by some government organization.

Assuming that I decide to buy a new car, I will have to cut back on my already cut back lifestyle. First, I will have to cut my three meals a day to one Snickers bar a day. I will have to stop texting and talking on my phone. My parents will have to go a few years before knowing that I am okay. Also, I will have to go a little while with no health, life, or car insurance. I think it will be alright if I find the love of my life and don’t die in the process.

This weekend I hosted an ex, along with the members of his band who were in town to perform. He and I have remained close since the break up, so I readily agreed to provide the trio housing. Because the root cause of our relationship’s demise was geography, the visit was strange and emotional, and the inevitable departure only bitter and not sweet.  The weekend was full of hand holding and smiles and picnic lunched catered by our favorite bodega and nostalgia. 

Sigh. I am incapable of even attempting a long-distance relationship of the legitimate and exclusive variety. Even with someone I love. Thus, I remain ready to mingle.

“I don’t get it.  I go on date after date, and no matter who I go out with, I never seem to find anyone I like!  Is there something wrong with me?  Am I just at an age where I am incapable of falling in love the way I was when I was young?”

Do these thoughts sound familiar to anyone out there?

I remember thinking these thoughts all the time back when I was meeting girls online.  It seemed like month after month I was dating girl after girl and just not getting anywhere.  Each date felt more depressing than the last.   I’d go out, and for the most part, the girls would seem nice, things would even be somewhat entertaining most of the time.  But something was just missing.  I just wasn’t feeling it.    I found myself never having that urge to call a girl for a second or third date.  And when I did wind up calling back, it usually felt forced, as if I was trying so hard to be normal (which would usually seem like normal thoughts to have).  But after months and months, it starts to not feel so normal anymore.

After a long time not finding someone to match up with, I’d feel like there was something wrong with me.  Do we reach an age where we just lose that ability to fall completely in love with someone?  You know the type of love I’m talking about.  Thinking 24/7 about them, always wanting to talk to them, obsessing over every detail of what happens between the both of you.   I sure wasn’t having any of these feelings.  It felt like those feelings were just a distant childhood friend of mine whom I had lost the ability to feel with age.  Not only that, but I felt like a complete screw-up.  Why was everyone else I knew in healthy relationships but I could not seem to meet anyone through online dating?

Why do I bring this up?  Because I know there are a lot of people out there who feel the same way right now.  People who go on date after date and wonder why they can’t meet someone they could picture themselves being a perfect match for.  The truth is, there was nothing wrong with me.  I eventually realized it takes time to meet the perfect person.  A lot of us think we need help with online dating or that something is wrong with us when we can’t find a date after three months.  Think about it.  It seems kind of silly to think that you are going to find the person you are meant to be with for the rest of your life after online three months.  This could take months, even years.  Why settle?  Take each date one date at a time and realize there may be nothing wrong at all.  These things just take time.

I never told a girl that I loved her (outside of family and celebrities I’d met) until I was in college.  Up until then, I was too busy trying to win over members of the opposite sex to revel in the spoils of having won one.

I had to overcome a lot of obstacles to become who I was by age nineteen.  I was born both Texan and male.  Nothing was handed to me. I had to learn how to tell people that I was Texan and male at a very young age.  I couldn’t identify with my parents because my dad wasn’t born in Texas and my mom was not male.  It was not until the birth of my younger brother that I had a companion in shame.  I still remember what it was like to learn that The Rodeo didn’t exist all over the world.  I wanted to visit these places and meet people who hadn’t been corrupted by the horror of watching some helpless dude run away from a bucking bronco. (How is that entertainment?)

So when I got that text message that said “i luv u,” I returned the sentiment in a more grammatically correct way.  I had lost my love-ginity, and I felt like I had the right to say “I love you” to whomever I wanted.  I started telling every girl that I went out with that I loved her.  I told waitresses that I loved them.  I told the lady that activated my credit card on the phone that I loved her.  I was out of control.  I reached rock bottom and found myself telling my dental hygienist that I loved her through an electric spinning toothbrush and foamy toothpaste.  She stopped the toothbrush and asked, “What?”  I collected myself and realized what I’d said.  I think I had thought that I loved her because all I could see were her blue eyes and her arm smelled like antibacterial hand soap and flavored fluoride.  I replied, “What?  Nothing.”

I didn’t really love her, nor did I love the credit card activator or the waitresses.  I loved the freedom to express my love verbally; a freedom which I had abused.  You can’t find love by throwing “I love you” wherever you can and hoping one sticks.  You find love by training yourself to overcome inherited obstacles until someone finally falls in love with you first.

Yesterday, as I was sitting in my Dermatologist’s waiting area, I witnessed the cutest elderly couple. They had a European accent and my best guess from eavesdropping is that they witnessed the Holocaust. My doctor later informed me that the gentleman who was her patient as well, and a former Dr., was 94 (he was looking pretty good at 94). His wife about the same age (also looking pretty good, mobile, healthy and happy). But what touched me the most was the love that radiated between them. I guess the wife noticed my smile. In her nineties, she was a take charge gal keeping them on their schedule for the day but she was clearly so loving and caring to her husband in making sure he was okay. She must have read my mind as she said ’70 years’. Wow. Now, that is a gift. Having a wonderful loving best friend for 70 years. I can only be so lucky and trust the best is yet to come for me in that department.

We live confined by legalities and social expectations, but sometimes our feelings should be our guiding light. Not Paris quite, but here in Brooklyn people kiss in the streets without reservation. It is unlike where I come from, where fear of being spotted and judged contains all the passion of the city. I am happy this summer to live amongst this open love that shares the air with the water spray of open fire hydrants, both symbols of the credo that justifies an unapologetic doing of what feels good.