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Over the last couple of weeks I have had several sightings of ex-boyfriends—nothing overly dramatic or explosive—I just keep having these coincidental run-ins at the grocery store, on campus, at a concert, through an out-of-the-blue email.  Most of these instances have been rather pleasant, we were friendly, exchanged niceties, asked the appropriate questions and proceeded along with our own activities.  I would like to take this opportunity to thank The Universe for mostly normal ex-boyfriends.  Example: to date not a single one has been listed on America’s Most Wanted, featured on Jerry Springer, or convicted of some horrible crime.  This may seem like ludicrously low expectations, but sometimes a girl needs a reminder that she has a little class when choosing someone to date.

Let’s talk about dating for a minute, shall we?  I know the last few months I have been terrifically light on posting anything at all.  Part of that is a lack-of-time issue.  Part of that was some romantical dramatics.  And then there is your general “I’ll shove this under my virtual (proverbial?) rug instead of splashing it about the internet” kind of situations.  At any rate, I have something I need to toss around a bit; please tolerate my indulgence.

Favorite Ex-boyfriends (or ex-girlfriends*): I certainly hope you have one.  Until recently, my favorite ex-boyfriend was Berkley/Adam/Dr. Mac.  I can’t say enough nice things about him, both as a boyfriend and as a dentist (seriously, Salt Laker’s, he’ll fix your teeth real good.)—but instead of singing his praises I’d like to talk about someone else.  I have to tread carefully here, I don’t want to smash anyone’s toes and I certainly don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.  I do, however, want to discuss something important; I need to write about it to give myself a little clarity on the subject.  Blogging is a form of therapy to me, so imagine you are sitting in a big, comfy leather chair with a notebook, pen poised, and imagine I am laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, telling you a story. 

I usually begin stories like this with “Once upon a time,” but I feel awkward starting out that way while I’m on the couch, it seems disingenuous or something.  Moving on.  I’ve never talked about Blue Eyes before, at least not here, I wouldn’t ever describe him as my “boyfriend.”  But in the interest of full disclosure he and I hung out/dated for a while not that long ago.  Our “break-up” was very mutual, drama-free, and took all of 3 minutes to communicate.  (Why can’t all break-ups be like that?)(All these terms are in quotes simply for the purposes of this post.  If you aren’t boyfriend/girlfriend with someone you can’t very well break-up.  And since I never thought of, called or referred to Blue Eyes as my boyfriend…well, you see the logic, right?) There are some fundamentally awesome things about Blue Eyes; he’s smart, and witty, and easy to be around.  He enjoys conversationalizification as much as I do (yes, that’s a word.  Sound it out.) and most of our interactions revolved around long discussions about Life, Love and the Meaning of the Universe. (Yes, The Universe.  Blue Eyes can be a bit of a geek at times and has all sorts of opinions about The Universe.  It’s part of his charm.)  Like anyone, he also has his flaws (as do I—a whole pile of them).  Like most relationships, there were some fundamental things between he and I that just wouldn’t work out, which is fine.  Blue Eyes and I are still friends, good friends, actually.  In fact, I think he and I are better friends now than we were while we were hanging out.  We aren’t as close (as is expected), but I think we are better friends.

Does that make any kind of sense?  Let me try and explain, because this is the reason he tops my list of Favorite Ex’s.  In our conversations (both before and after the “break up”) I came to realize some massive, fundamental flaws in myself, and have made changes towards accepting and correcting those flaws.  I also realized I had made enormous life decisions based on some very skewed, irrational data, and have made steps towards realigning some priorities.  For the record, it takes a very good friend to be able and willing to point these things out.  And for whatever reason, Blue Eyes was the first friend who was able to do so in a way that did not immediately put me on the defensive, determined to fight for my position to the death.  (Ok, maybe not to the death.)(Actually, that is probably a true statement…I can be pretty stubborn when I want to be.)

I don’t really want to get into the nitty-gritties of the conversations, but we’re talking about Big Things here; things like family and whether or not to have kids, relationships with siblings and parents and God, what it means to be a Good Man or a Good Woman.  I also believe at some point the merits of DVD vs Blu-Ray were discussed (him), heels vs. ballet flats (me) and the benefits of Robert Downey Jr. vs. any other leading man.  Big. Important. Stuff.  Now I’ve had similar Big Conversations with a dozen other people, and the end result has always been my feeling a need to be defensive and stubborn on my position and refusing to acknowledge there might be another way to see the situation, but somehow Blue Eyes managed to help me see another way.  Several other ways, actually.  I don’t really care to analyze “why” or “how” that happened, I’m just glad it did.  I feel like I was boxed into this smaller, darker life (one of my own creation and choosing, mind you) and he somehow swooped in like a pirate (do pirates swoop?) and chopped a big hole in it and now I’m trying to figure out what to do with all this sunshine.  Regardless of circumstances or timing or the who, why, when or how—this “hole of sunshine” phenomenon has been a really good thing for me.  It’s big and exciting (and scary) to see the life you thought you had all planned out alter a little, or a lot.  It’s also big and exciting (and a little scary) to wonder what other places need a little more sunshine. 

I think this is what shrink’s refer to as a “break-through”.  So, despite any other component or circumstance of this relationship with Blue Eyes, he changed the way I think, he changed the way I see myself and how I fit into my world, and he did all of that without any kind of agenda, without any malicious intent, and without any real idea that it was happening.  Blue Eyes unknowingly took some tremendous risks on me, navigating some potentially explosive conversations (explosions on par with Krakatoa, not a little firecracker) and loaded situations and he showed me these little trails through them I had never noticed before.  He brought out some of the best things in me and despite the fact that he won’t be around in ways to see or enjoy the end results of that break-through, I can really only attribute their discovery to him.  Blue Eyes is an amazing man, an incredible person and a loyal friend.  It is a rarity that a (straight) man can blaze through your world, leaving a wake of unicorns and ponies and rainbows and all other Good Things…I suppose there is also some nerdy detritus in there somewhere…USB cables and zombies and chess tournaments and what-not; what I’m trying to say is I am a better person, a more whole person, and a stronger person because of him.  And for that, my friends, he is (and will most likely remain) on the top of my Favorite Ex’s list. 

*The asterix is not because I have a favorite ex-girlfriend, it is because the phrase is not mine.  “Favorite Ex-girlfriend” is the title of a song (that I love), written by someone I love.  I don’t know the protocol for mixing two men I care about into the same post, but I feel they must be mentioned together or not at all.  If that is some kind of massive faux-pas, I hope those who could take offense will opt to forgive instead.  I’m just trying to be emotionally honest, even when it is tricky.

Relationships: they are both the bane and joy of our existence.  The baneful ones are complicated and messy and give you a severe case of eye rolling (or eye twitching) and The Sighs.  The joyful ones give you warm fuzzies, butterflies, unicorns and rainbows…or something like that. Having a plethora of bad relationships in our respective lives doesn’t necessarily mean we don’t have very good relationship skills, although I’d be hard-pressed to believe otherwise.  Corrolation and causation and all that scientific stuff can put up an awfully good argument.  However, I wouldn’t necessarily maintain that “Relationship Experts” have all joyful relationships in their lives–maybe they are just lucky.  Or lying.  How does one become a “Relationship Expert” anyway?  Do you take a bunch of classes on interpersonal communication?  Study groups of people?  Chug through reams of data on how individuals deal with each other?  That all sounds like a lot of work.  Although I think I can safely state that in order to become an expert on any given subject, one must have a lot of experience in that subject.

A few weeks ago I devoured Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, and he states (among other, awesome things) that to become an expert you must put in at least 10,000 hours of practice time.  Whether you are talking about playing the violin, winning cases in court, or writing software programs; 10,000 hours is the magic number you must strive towards in order to maintain Expert Status.  (I should probably mention here that while I absolutely LOVED Outliers and gave it 5 stars out of 5 stars, Mr. Gladwell is not paying me for a review, nor is he sending me free stuff–although he should probably consider it because I own all of his books in hardback and half I own an additional second copy in paperback.  I’m a good customer, yo! Where’s the swag?)

Ten thousand hours.  In terms of playing the violin that sounds like an inordinate amount of time; three hours a day for a decade.  But how do you calculate hours actively spent on/in relationships? Allow me to do a little math.  (Don’t worry, you will not need a calculator to continue with this post, take a sip of your Diet Coke and just give me a moment here.)

[Insert somewhat rusty sounds of brain gears warming up, slowly cranking through equations and algorithms, quickly exhausting any functionality, giving up and laying down for a nap.]

…Ok, let me try that again, easy math this time.  I have been pursuing and being persecuted pursued by citizens of Planet Man for approximately 14.5 years.  In that time I think it is safe to say that I have gone on approximately 2,200 dates; 1,750 of which I would guesstimate have taken place in the last five years.  I have been on dozens of first dates, probably 25 blind dates, kissed [redacted] guys, and had a double handful of real relationships–some good, some horrible–that lasted anywhere from 6 months to three years.  In this particular realm of measurement, longer doesn’t necessarily mean better.  Without constant growing, nurturing and improving a relationship from both sides, there comes a point where longer is just longer.  (Yes, I’m talking about duration of relationships, get your mind out of the gutter.)

From this set of Super Scientific Data I can draw the following conclusion: In the last five years I have achieved “expert” status when it comes to dating.  This does not mean I am a Relationship Expert.  This means I know how to have and be a really great date.  I will try almost anything once (whether that is ethnic food, curling, or mountain biking), I can have a conversation–a meaningful, humorous, pleasant conversation–with anyone of moderate intelligence and I can defuse a lot of that dating awkwardness without embarrassment or resorting to cheap shenanigans (ok, at times I have perhaps employed a few shenanigans).  Alright, so I’m a great date.  Now what?  Until TLC comes up with a new reality show where I am paid thirty-seven-bazillion dollars (my standing rate to appear on any reality television show) to flounce around in fabulous outfits with amazing shoes, teaching handsome, debonair, charming-but-perhaps-slightly-shy men how to plan and execute a fabulous date–basically, the female equivalent of Hitch–without all that, I’ve got bupkiss.  So what if I’m a great date–that means nothing unless it can somehow translate into decent relationship skills.

I communicate on an above-average level for an intelligent human being, I listen well, I am willing to admit mistakes and apologize when necessary (and sometimes unnecessarily just to keep the damn peace), however I am also one to stand my ground when I firmly believe I am right.  In fact, being pushed, manipulated or bullied while under such a circumstance will never end well for the other party, the one doing the pushing/manipulating/bullying.  When I dig my heels in I dig them deep; I wear stiletto’s for a reason, people.  I understand that men and women are different, and while I wouldn’t necessary simplify it into “Men are from Mars and need Cave Time; Women are from Venus and need Mani/Pedi’s”, I do think there is a bit of truth to that comparison.  But I think that expectations and the differences that whirl around expectations, the achieving, failing and lack of, are a huge part of why men and women have a difficult and frustrating time understanding each other.

Can someone become an Expert on Expectations?  Hrm, allow me a moment to ponder this, [indiscernible pause] No.  No you cannot.  Expectations are a bitch and there is no real way around that except to have no expectations of any sort, eliminating the unfortunate situation of being disappointed.  This is not a recommended skill, however.  It’s too depressing.

Back to relationships.  A Relationship Expert is typically someone with a grundle of degrees, the author of a self-help book or–even better–a series of self-help books, who wears too much eye makeup and resorts to gender cliche’s like they are Brand New Scientifically Proven Facts.  We all know most boys would rather watch a sweaty, testosteroney sporting event than go to the ballet (despite the fact that ballet dancers have remarkable athletic abilities, especially the male ones).  But does any of that generic advice really help?  I mean, sure, if you’ve never had a real relationship, sure.  I can see how that would be useful.  Or, if you’ve never had a healthy and/or successful relationship, I can understand your interest.  I refuse to listen to someone lecture me about relationships, or even worse, pay someone to lecture me about relationships when they do not know me personally.  A personal therapist I can get behind.  A trusted friend will have my undivided attention.  A self-help seminar leaves me feeling itchy.

I am not a Relationship Expert, but I am fairly good at relationships.  In fact, I think I’d say I’m above average.  I am on good terms with most of my x-boyfriends, rarely have fights with friends, and while my siblings are delightfully quirky, we get along quite well.  Sure, I have some baggage and a few hangups when it comes to relationships, but no more than the next person.

…What am I getting at?  I’m not sure, really.  This whole 10,000-Hours-To-Become-An-Expert thing has just been rolling around in my brain for a few weeks and I needed to get it out.  Have I spent 10,000 hours on relationships?  Probably.  Am I an expert?  No.  Does that discredit Mr. Gladwell or his book?  No.  It just means that relationships are trickier than playing the violin, or arguing before a jury, or writing the code that created That Glorious Invention: The Interwebs.  Relationships have ten-thousand variables and, as a single person, my relationships are constantly changing.  I am constantly breaking up with one boy and/or starting all over again with someone else and another set of ten-thousand variables.  That doesn’t mean I suck at it, it just means it’s tricky.  Or that I’m incredibly unlucky.  Or both.

Thoughts?  Advice?  Nuggets of wisdom?  A good vent, perhaps?  Does anyone need a good relationship vent?  …Bueller?

You may have some x-boyfriends who you will think of fondly; they are kind and funny and wonderful–it just didn’t work out.

You may have some x-boyfriends who you will think of and dry-heave; they are vile and disgusting and generally horrible people–thank heavens it didn’t work out.

You may have some x-boyfriends who you will think you are rid of, only to discover that through no fault of your own they are now your cousin.  True story.

You may have some x-boyfriends who you will think of occasionally with little to no emotion attached to them either way.  You dated.  You broke up.  The end.  Sure you were probably sad for a little while, but it was better to break up and, in retrospect, there wasn’t enough of a relationship there to justify trying to be friends later.

Regardless of the nature of their memory, I have recently discovered that when it comes to x-boyfriends, the world can be incredibly, disturbingly small.

Over the weekend I had a friend in town from San Francisco.  I met Erica years ago when I was dating Berkley/Adam and visiting San Fran every other weekend.   Adam and I broke up, but I have kept and cherished the girlfriends I made in San Francisco.  Here we are, several years later Erica and I are still friends who meet up for lunch or something whenever we happen to be in the same city.   Saturday night a group of girls met up for some dinner and general girl-chat.  I caught up with several of Erica’s Salt Lake friends who I have come to know a bit, and then started talking to the girl to my right; a lovely blue-eyed E.R. nurse with a fantastic smile.  She was funny and charming and admittedly I had started to develop a bit of a girl-crush on her immediately.

Erica saw us chatting and without warning said the one thing I would have never expected.

“Oh!  You two have something in common!  You both dated _______.”

Woah.  Wait.  What?

It’s true, my friends.  Unknowingly I had befriended my x-boyfriend’s x-girlfriend.  (Note: this particular x-boyfriend is not Berkley/Adam.  Erica is friends with half the planet, including another one of my x-boyfriends.)  Now, this could have been monumentally awkward, luckily it went the absolute other way.  After the initial shock wore off, we started tentatively chatting about our mutual X.  We talked about his humor, his smile, his quirks and peculiarities.  Yes, we talked about his kissing expertise (and even managed to survive the very bizarre moment when another girl at the table chimed in with her opinion–the boy gets around!  Goodness!) and after a little while it came time to make a choice.  Do we dare talk about The Hard Stuff? Or is it best to just skip that part all together.

Hard Stuff.  Every relationship has it.  Many relationships won’t survive it.  Ours clearly didn’t.

We talked a good long time about relationships in general, relationship specifics, pitfalls, communication, quirks and red flags.  Our respective relationships ended for similar reasons–we both wanted different things than our X.  One relationship lasted for over a year, the other for just a few months.  We had some very similar experiences, and some vastly different ones.  We both loved some of the same things and hated some of the same things.

As we continued to chat, to dissect, to compare I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what the wives from Big Love do on their “off nights.”

I am clearly not giving out many specifics here, partly because I have no real ill-will towards this particular x-boyfriend and while I have no problem discussing his faults with his other x-girlfriend, I don’t think that discussing his faults with the Internet is really appropriate.  Those details will be left to she and I–oh hell, I really do sound like a sister-wife!  Someone please send a plain-jane dress and a YouTube tutorial to achieve the perfect, coiffed, high-rise bangs.