Barking Up the Wrong Tree

"Your relationship with your father directly affects your decisions about your romantic partner," said James, a long-time friend who has been married for 35 years. "It's as simple as that and it's the most fucking complicated thing in the world," he continued. "Great," I thought, "I'm screwed".

In the 70s, cocktails swirled and emotions simmered just below the surface. Quiet lives of desperation were housed on every block, including ours. For better or worse, couples married young and discovered later if their decision was a life sentence.

For anyone on the outside, looking in, I had a decent childhood. We lived in a nice house in the suburbs of St. Louis. Money was tight, but I had my own room, my siblings and I went to private schools and there was always a box of Hamburger Helper in the cupboard. But, you know what you learn and I certainly didn't grow up learning what a loving, supportive relationship looks like in my dysfunctional family.

Dirty dishes and clothes piled high, as my mother sipped white wine, painted and listened to soap operas on TV. I imagine she suffered from depression, wondering how she went from a beautiful debutante and college co-ed to a mom with 6 kids and an unfaithful husband.

My father was really sarcastic. He came in with a smile and jabbed you with an insult. Sharpest tongue won in our family. It was every man for himself. We were trained to expose the weak spot, divide, go in for the kill, conquer.

Normal every day occurrences were land mines for emotional survival. Even the car ride to school could be an emotionally taxing ride. One particular morning when I was ten, I was running late, trying to straighten my frizzy hair. My dad was in the car with my siblings, honking the horn repeatedly. I lifted my head from the ironing table and unplugged the appliance. The horn blasted again. I ran through the kitchen to the back door, past my mother, who says without looking up from her fashion magazine, "Try putting on some lipstick."

As my dad sees me round the corner, he honks the horn again for emphasis. I cram into the back seat with my brothers. "All this time in the bathroom for that?" he shouts, angry for making him wait. "Great!" He throws the car into reverse and screeches out of the driveway. "I think you look pretty," says my oldest brother. "Don't lie to her," says the other. "Yeah, she might believe you!" chimes in my sister. My father turned around and smacked my brothers on their legs, "Shut up!" he says, "The world needs brains too."

Talking about men and failed relationships was easier to swallow eating Kaya toast and Thai rice noodles at The Street on Highland. James was giving me advice about how he has been able to keep his marriage going for 35 years. "You have to learn how to love and trust, especially if you didn't have that as a child."

I've spent my entire adulthood studying relationships and how to build one. I watch how couples respond to each other. All of my happily married friends had strong male role models in their life, and in most cases their own parents are still married. Love, support, trust and guidance was (and still is) a part of their lives. My friends Tom and Susan met each other later in life and I am constantly inspired by how lucky they feel to know each other. I hope one day to have that same experience. What a wonderful feeling it must be to have someone in the world who knows you deeply, understands your strengths and weaknesses, still loves you and wants to know you even deeper.

I thought about Mike (Fool Me Once) and I asked myself why am I trying so hard to get to know this person who doesn't want to be known? And then I realized he's emotionally unavailable for me just like my father was. On a subconscious level, I was familiar with this territory. What I grew up learning was seeking love, acceptance and understanding from a man who was incapable of giving it, and here I was falling right back into the same mode, reaching out to Mike for the same emotional connection I never received from my father. Hadn't I invested enough time and money in therapy over the years to have moved on from this shit? Am I really 44 and still dealing with father issues? Ugh...

If I didn't grow up learning what it's like to be in a loving, supportive relationship, I certainly wonder if I will ever be able to recognize a man capable of such a relationship.

If eyes are the window to the soul, then I will heed my friend's same advice he gave for me walking the red carpet, "Just keep your head up, and look into people's eyes."

I do not know if deep love is attainable for me, or if I find it, it will last 'until death do us part'. But what I do know is that I am willing to take that risk for as long as I am living on this planet.