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Since I suffer from the terminal condition of being a man, the best I can give you is my personal answer to this question, entirely from a male perspective.  I believe, however, that most women would reach a similar conclusion.

Who will say the words “I love you” first in a relationship?  I thought about this a lot when I was a teenager, and my answer then, as now, is simple.  I am willing to say it first, and, in so doing, I am willing to risk the possibility of rejection.

This is true even though I am very sensitive to rejection. I tend to take any rejection, real or imaginary, personal or impersonal, as a direct rejection of me. I have even felt rejected because I was unable to make an online reservation at a restaurant.

But “I love you” is as personal as it gets and my emotional risk is far greater than it is with a restaurant.  I can easily dine somewhere else.  So why is it I am willing to take the leap in love despite the much higher emotional risk?

When I was single and in my thirties I had one date with Sheila.  I thought our date went poorly and was not planning to ask her out again.  A few days later I received a note that said, “Alan, I had a wonderful time, and I’d like to spend more time with you.  I’m giving a dinner party on Friday, and if you’re as interested in me as I am in you please be at my apartment at six pm.  If not, please do not reply to my note and do not show up.  I love you, Sheila”

I was surprised, but appreciated her honesty.  I didn’t show up, but as I think about this experience more than forty years later I still have a mental picture of Sheila preparing dinner, having other guests arrive, then waiting for me.  When did she realize I wasn’t coming?  Did she cry that night?  I don’t know. We each deal with rejection in our own way.

Sheila went first.  I applaud her for that.  And Sheila did exactly what I decided to do when I was in my late teens – say “I love you” first.  I have never said this a day or two after a first meeting, and I have not always received the hoped for “I love you too” in response.  But I think it would be a shame if my fear controlled me, and a promising relationship failed to blossom simply because neither of us was willing to take an emotional risk and say “I love you.”  Someone has to go first.

In the play The Rainmaker there is a scene in which the deputy sheriff, who is single and lonely, breaks my heart.  He says, “When my wife was leaving me, I knew she would stay if I just said, “Please stay.  I love you.  And I need you.  But my pride got in the way.  If I had it to do over I would ask her to stay.”

I suggest that we always be willing to go first, even if we’ve been married for fifty years.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Love,

Alan

P.S.  My pogo stick has migrated to the trunk of my car.  This week I promise to mount the monster and take a wild ride.  Video next week.

I’ve heard it said that “life is what happens while you’re making plans.”

As mentioned in a previous blog, I’ve received my new adult pogo stick, helmet, bicycle pump, and ankle braces.  I’ve taken everything out of their boxes. My daughter told me last week that I bought a pogo stick for her when she was a child, and while I’d like to believe that I remember everything accurately, I didn’t remember that.

When my pogo stick popped out of the cardboard box, there was a page of instructions attached proclaiming in large bold letters:  READ ME!  That seemed like a good idea but . . . well, I was indisposed on Sunday and didn’t get around to “reading me” until Monday afternoon – that is now.  The first instruction is:

“We highly HIGHLY recommend giving this Pogo 101 tutorial a watch.  It’ll take 5 minutes of time but save you tons of frustration when learning.”

I confess that I hate to read instructions.  I believe that the operation of anything should be intuitive and that I’m smart enough to figure it out without reading the instructions.  Heck, as I remember, I learned to ride a bicycle pretty quickly with no instructions other than my father’s plaintive, “Balance!”  Also, I don’t particularly like to watch short videos unless they’re funny.  Sprite showed me a video this morning of a dog doing yoga.  The dog was better than I am at yoga, and the video was funny.

The good news is that I haven’t harmed myself yet on my pogo stick.  The bad news is I haven’t yet tried it.  Perhaps my conscious mind has been saying, “go for it,” and my unconscious is saying, “no – this could be dangerous.”  Thanks Freud.  The trouble with my unconscious is that the only way I can guess what messages it is sending to me is to watch what I actually do.  Kind of like politicians – you have to watch what they actually do (not what they say) to find out what their unconscious mind is really thinking.

Well, I am going to bounce on my pogo stick.  This coming week.  I promise.  I’ve even picked out a slab of concrete in front of my house for the experiment.  I hope the tutorial doesn’t insist that I go to the park.  Exercise belongs at home, where you don’t have to drive and can take a quick shower and nap afterward.

In the immortal words of The Fifth Dimension, – words I think I first read in Superman comics (or was it Captain Marvel), “Up, up and away!”

In case you’re worried, although my new pogo stick can bounce more than ten feet high, I asked the manufacturer to make sure mine bounces to only four or five feet.  I’m sure that will be more than enough.

I’ll confess, I’m reminded of how I felt in grade school when I was instructed to take a turn at the high jump.  I would run up to the bar, and stop.  Repeatedly.

But the run up is over.  Next week you’ll see a photo of me on a pogo stick with a bounce in my step.

Alan