There’s a big theme when it comes to love: patience. It was a virtue my grandma told me she exercised often in her marriage to my grandpa, and it’s one that continues to make me more flexible just about every day. You, dear readers, have been patient with me these last two months as I’ve been very busy with How to Love an American Man‘s release. As a reward, today on this blog you’re getting TWO sweet pieces of love advice from two colleagues whom I admire greatly. (One piece of advice truly is sweet — you’ll see what I mean).
Patience is the theme when it comes to this week’s blog posts. First hear from Melanie Notkin, editor-in-chief and founder of SavvyAuntie.com, an award-winning site dedicated to content for and about the nearly 50 percent of American women who are not mothers, but who love the children in their lives. Melanie is also a fellow HarperCollins author — my literary hero Elizabeth Gilbert said this about Melanie’s book, Savvy Auntie: The Ultimate Guide for Cool Aunts, Great-Aunts, Godmothers and All Women Who Love Kids:
“What a wonderful gift this book is for aunties of all of ages, backgrounds, shapes and varieties!”
Yeah, I’m a little jealous.
Followed by the very precious love advice Melanie offers from her beloved late mother are words of wisdom from the grandmother of another literary hero in my life, Brandon Hoang. Brandon is a writer with such awesome male insights that he contributes to CollegeHumor.com and was once featured in an article in Glamour. Plus he works for Nickelodeon in Los Angeles, so, as you’ve probably gathered, Brandon’s How to Love an American Man blog contribution isn’t the only thing about him that’s sweet. He’s pretty stellar all around. Check out Brandon Hoang’s blog at startingoverat24.blogspot.com.
Beautiful, beautiful stories (both that move me deeply…and one that gives me a mad watermelon craving every time I read it).
Wait For It…
By Melanie Notkin, Founder & Editor-In-Chief, SavvyAuntie.com
Once upon a time, a very long time ago, I was four. I was four and turning five. I was four and turning a “very important number” as I recall stating emphatically on the very day I turned five. There was something magical about the age of five for me. Perhaps it was just because it was ‘bigger’ than four. Or perhaps it was half a decade (although I doubt I knew what a decade was at four). Perhaps I recalled my older brother being five at one time before me, and thought that was really “big.”
Whatever the case, it was winter time and I was clumsily putting on the big rubber boots that went over my shoes, as children did in Montreal, Canada, in the wintertime…clumsily because after all, I was four-not-yet-five, and I remember looking over to my much-adored mother (who always enabled my
independence and did not reach over to help me less-clumsily put on my boots- exactly as I would have wanted it) and said, rather excitedly: “I can’t wait until I’m five. Five is a very big number.”
To which my mother exclaimed, rather disappointingly: “Don’t wish your life away.”
And then exactly 15 years later, I wished her life back again. And remembered never again to wish my life away. Not a year. Not a month. Not a week. Not a day. Not an hour. Not a minute (with exception of getting my teeth cleaned and other unpleasant moments with people in white coats.) I do not wish my life away.
But I do wish I were four-not-quite-five again. Just so I could ask my mommy for help with my rubber boots. Seems like I needed more guidance from her than I thought.
And then there was lesson number two, which came about five years later, when I was not quite a teen. My mother read a poem to me, which I did not know was famous, by a poet whose name reminded me of the Holiday season, Robert Frost. The poem was….
“The Road Not Taken.”
She made me memorize it. And I did. Never knowing why. Still, today, not knowing why my mother, who did not necessarily choose her own road less traveled, chose that particular poem for me to memorize.
But I did:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Now at 10 or so, I did not know there was a life-lesson here for me. But I did fall in love with the poem too. Perhaps because it was a gift from my mother. Perhaps it was the beauty and the rhythm of it. Or the frosty warmth it evoked. Or the fact that I, other than just memorizing the poem, could actually
choose a road less traveled. One day. When I was big-and-not-just-ten.
As an Auntie by Choice, I sent a girlfriend’s daughter a list of things to think about as she turned 16. One of those lessons was to live her dream. And if she didn’t know what her dream was yet, to wait for it. It was coming.
Five years ago, I did not have the dream to create SavvyAuntie.com. But I knew I had a dream coming…and believe me, in my early mid late 30′s, I was growing impatient for it to come, taking jobs I thought might be my dream job. But then I found myself year after year, job after job, taking the same road. Leading the same path.
Then one day, two roads diverged in my world: to keep the search for a job, sort of same job, different office, or forge out on my own…take the road less traveled.
My dream was before me. And I took it.
And for that very reason, there is no doubt, no moment, no week, no day, no minute that I wish my life away.
These are my lessons, for you, Dear Reader. If you find yourself wishing your work day away, take a walk. Find a woods. Begin your journey. Follow your dreams.
And if you do not know what your dream is yet, wait for it. It’s coming.
And that will make all the difference.
********
Ripe Wisdom
By Brandon Hoang
In Vietnamese culture, love is a taboo subject. Want advice on the shortest path to becoming a pharmacist? You got it. Need a heads-up on where the nearest hobby shop is? Not a problem. Need someone to rub your back and wipe your tears when you’re experiencing your first break up? You’re on your own. My family would rather talk about protractors and the latest functions of the TI 83 calculator than discuss anything to do with dating and relationships.
But sometimes the best advice isn’t always straightforward. Sometimes it’s hidden in metaphor and the real beauty lies in discovering it yourself.
On a particularly scorching day when I was seven, I remember my grandmother taking me to an outdoor market. My grandmother was a true guru of the produce section. She had a confident posture about her as she gracefully strolled the aisles that would rival any military general. As the sun beat its death rays down on me, I was dedicating all fifty-two pounds of my body into pulling my grandma in the direction of the watermelons. My grandma never learned English and I never learned Vietnamese, so we were at the mercy of using physical gestures to communicate. I figured jumping up and down and pointing to the giant pile of watermelons like a chimpanzee would convey exactly what I wanted. I longed to sink my teeth into the juicy, red flesh of a melon. The horse blinders were on. It would be mine. Oh yes. It would be mine.
My grandmother slowly approached the bin and carefully inspected each rind for what felt like a hundred years to a thirsty seven year old. She picked up a melon and slowly rolled it in her wrinkled hands. Not good enough – it went back in the bin. She picked up another one, put it to her ear and shook it gently as if it was going to tell her the location of El Dorado. No dice. She thumped another melon with a few quick flicks of her fingers. I was sure this would be the one we’d take home. I was wrong.
She must have rolled, listened to, and thumped every single melon in the bin, but wasn’t satisfied with any of them. My grandma shrugged her shoulders, muttered something in her native language and nonchalantly meandered away. I was dumbstruck. What the hell had just happened here? We weren’t going to buy any?? With my jaw to the floor, I turned to my father for some kind of explanation, and he translated:
“None of those were ripe. There’s no point in picking a watermelon if it’s not ripe.”
At the time, this didn’t mean much to me. All I really wanted was a juicy snack to quench my thirst. But many years later, as I apply the same principle to dating, it is a mantra that has proven invaluable.
After my girlfriend of six years gave me the ol’ heave-ho when I was 24, I spent most of my waking hours obsessing over trying to find “the next one”. And while I was fortunate enough to put my incredibly awkward dating experiences to good use, it came with the sacrifice of a lot of heartache and a lot of hair pulling. A lot of which I could have avoided if I only had thought about my day at the market.
Desperate for any date of any kind after my devastating break-up, I asked out a girl I had met briefly during a blurry haze at a party. She was your cliche “party girl,” very cute and a lot of fun, but I knew deep down in my heart’s gut it wasn’t meant to be. Our first conversation of the evening confirmed this: she loved US Weekly, I liked graphic novels. Politically, she leaned right and I planted my flag on the left. She danced to Kei$ha, I grooved to Hall & Oates. This exchange would prove to be perfect foreshadowing for rest of the evening. Me expending all my energy into looking the other way about a variety of this girl’s “quirks” and trying to zero in on the stuff that just “wasn’t so bad.” I wasted her time and mine.
Too many times when we date, we try to force something that just isn’t there. “I’m sure she has a straitjacket hanging in a closet next to her ruffle skirt, but she’s really hot.” Or “I’ve actually fallen asleep face down in my chicken cacciatore mid-conversation, but he’s really…nice, I guess.” We turn into the toddler incessantly hammering the round peg through a square hole, hoping that it will fit. Or at least that it will “fit for now.” But when it doesn’t (and it never does), we end up throwing a tantrum and convince ourselves that it was some big surprise.
We should all take a lesson from my grandma’s produce picking strategy: if there’s a batch of bad watermelons, just walk away. If it isn’t ripe enough, wait until you find one that is. At least, one that is good enough for you. Otherwise, what’s the point? You’re going to end up tossing the bad rind into the compost anyway and taking another trip back to the store.
Take your time and don’t jump on any ol’ melon just because it’s there. It’s okay to pass it up this time. The good one will come, you just have to watch out for it.
*******
Don’t Say the B Word (Breakup!)
By Laura Lane
(Ed. Note: Laura Lane is a TV host, reporter and writer, News Editor at OK! Magazine, poker blogger, commentator on shows like Entertainment Tonight and The Insider and on shows for CNN, MTV, FOX and lots more. Oh, and, Laura was Ryan Seacrest’s intern in college before she left the West Coast for NYC. Yes. Impressive lady. Follow Laura on Twitter and be sure to check out her website at www.lauralane.com. And, you know where to find How to Love an American Man, right? Here and here!)
It took me a really long time to find a boyfriend. 23 years to be exact.
Sure, I’d had other boyfriends before. There was Aaron and Greg and you could basically count Ryan, John and Cameron. (Sort of.) There were a lot of dates.
My roommate and I had given the guys nicknames so she could keep them all straight: Harvard and Toronto and The Swimmer and the Political Guy and Sexy Nerd and the Doctor and the Chemist. But none of them lasted more than three months. Some were just a few dates.
And then I met Nic.
I fell madly in love with him the day I met him at my friend’s holiday party. I emailed him the next day about his art. He asked me out to dinner two days later. We’ve been together ever since. It’s intoxicating-straight-out-of-a-movie- ridiculous love and it has been for over a year and a half. He’s drop dead gorgeous, the kindest person I’ve ever met, the most introspective, intelligent and creative.
(If you can’t tell, I’m in love.)
But even butterflies-in-your-stomach type of love isn’t perfect. We’ve argued – only over stupid things. Our first real fight happened seven months after we were dating. I bought a plane ticket to go on a work trip to cover the World Series of Poker and Nic was going with me. I sent him my flight info and he was supposed to book the same flight so we could travel together. He forgot and about a week and a half before the trip he went to book his flight only to find that it was now double the price.
In my mind, he should have booked it anyways. After all, it was his fault for procrastinating and I wanted to travel with him. (We were going across the
country and I wanted to sleep on his shoulder, you know?) In his mind, he’d take a red eye and save the dough. What was the big deal?
The argument escalated over 48 hours into frustrating conversations and phone hang-ups until finally I turned off my phone for a few hours to cool off. At some point when I called him back, he was furious: “This is not what I want! I don’t want to break up!” he screamed.
Huh? I couldn’t have been more confused. “I don’t want to break up,” I answered.
He paused. “Oh…can I come over then?”
I remember my mom telling me a story about my grandfather that forever changed my mind about fights and breakups. My grandmother and grandfather, Papa, had gotten divorced when my mom was a young age and both had re-married. Papa had married a woman named Sherry, but at some point things weren’t going well and she moved out. She asked for a separation. She was hoping to teach him a lesson, hoping he would miss her so much, realize his mistakes and change whatever he was doing that she didn’t like. But something else happened. He met another woman during the separation. He fell in love. And when Sherry told him she only asked for a separation to get his attention and said she wanted him back, Papa had already moved on. Their relationship was over. That was that.
My mom told me early on that it’s not a good idea to threaten with a separation or a divorce unless you really mean it. You have to be willing to walk away for good if you ask for a breakup. Of course, this is one small element of a million other factors that create a happy marriage. But so far, my mom’s rules have worked for her. My parents have been happily married for nearly 30 years now.
I can’t count the times I’ve watched my girlfriends breakup and get back together with their boyfriends throughout college – or see how quickly Facebook statuses change from “in a relationship” to “single” to “in a relationship” to “single.” In my observations, those rocky relationships usually end in “single.”
I know our relationship isn’t always going to be easy. I know Nic and I are going to grow and change and drive each other crazy but if we fight, I’ll feel okay about it. It will be just a little bump in the road, and at the end of the day, we’re in love. There won’t be any breaking up and getting back together. After all, it took me 23 years to find my dream guy and I’m not about to lose him over a plane ticket!
*****
Kristine Gasbarre photo by Joelle Watt for Joelle Watt Unscripted
July 18, 2011
Welcome to the How to Love an American Man Blog!
For every long-lasting relationship, there’s a period early on when we take time to get to know the other person. So far they seem like an awesome match: conversation with them stimulates our thoughts and makes us smile, they bring something exciting to our life that no one else has before, and let’s face it: our eyes like their face. It is more than okay to admit this.
Particularly in romantic relationships, this getting-to-know-you period may be referred to as courting…and if there’s one thing I can tell you about my Grandma Gloria before the book comes out on August 16, it’s that she’s a big proponent of entering relationships with discretion. Even if we say we’re “seeing someone” or “dating” instead, the courting period is a crucial (and way-exciting) time to discern whether this other person bears the qualities that would make us comfortable to commit to them permanently. A sociologist I interviewed in 2007 for a YourTango.com article, “Why Am I Still Single?,” explained to me that many Americans these days go about dating each other the same way we go about consuming, well, things:
If I’m investing in this, then it has to be really good.
It’s very contemporary, but I suppose it’s how I operate: any relationship you see me in—with my family members, people I do business with, with my closest friends and people I’ve dated—that person and I exist in relationship together because we’re truly good for each other. And in less than a month when How to Love an American Man releases on August 16, that same standard will characterize my readers’ relationships with me. So if you haven’t committed to the book yet, I wanted to give you an opportunity to get to know it a little better.
And, with that, I welcome you warmly here to the How to Love an American Man blog.
In recent weeks I’ve grown as excited to launch this online mate to How to Love an American Man as I am for our August 16 on-sale date. That’s because through this blog I’ve had the massive fortune of partnering with awe-inspiring journalists, TV stars, Web personalities, musicians, fellow authors—now all my friends—who have entrusted you and me with a topic that’s deeply personal to them, but also relevant to us all. Who doesn’t love advice about love? And, like me with my Grandma Gloria in the book, haven’t we all been blessed with words of life wisdom from some elder we cherish deeply?
So far early readers have really connected with the idea; and recently reviewers have lit our path to publication with the following thoughts on How to Love an American Man:
- The American Library Association’s Booklist said, “Gasbarre’s reflections should resonate with many readers … including those who enjoyed Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love.”
- Kirkus Reviews called it “heartwarming,” and added, “The author’s treatment of the central conflict that drives the book—the quintessentially modern female quandary of finding lasting love while staying true to personal ambitions—comes across with an integrity and veracity women readers will undoubtedly appreciate.”
- Library Journal called How to Love an American Man “sweet” and urged readers: “Try it.”
- And Meg Snider, a reviewer who touched me with her words, said:
How To Love An American Man is a book that emotionally socked me in the stomach in a way that few books ever have. Like Aidan Donnelley Rowley’s Life After Yes, a novel that changed me, Gasbarre’s true look at her grandparents’ marriage — and what may have gone awry in her own love life — was emotionally wrenching and unique.
So to hold us over for the next 30 days (that’s all!) until August 16, some very renowned friends and colleagues have offered brilliant blog entries addressing one of these two questions, à la my Grandma Gloria:
- What’s some perspective-changing love advice that you’ve learned from a beloved elder?, or
- What’s a piece of unforgettable life advice you’ve been blessed to gain from a grandparent?
Kicking us off is the bright and beautiful Dana LaRue, founder of the über-popular BrokeAssBride.com. Web Biz Journal has named Broke-Ass Bride “One of the Top 10 Social Media Influencers in the Wedding Industry” (huge!), and Dana also runs the social network Bride$hare, which she explains is “designed to help brides save green and be green.” She’s a savvy lady who’s won me over, and even if you’re not planning a wedding, Dana offers awesome lifestyle tips on her smart and entertaining site. Just like me, Broke-Ass Bride is on Facebook and if you’re on Twitter, Dana’s tweets are a trip. 
As her husband Hunter Stiebel would likely attest and as I learned when I met her, it is impossible not to love the Broke-Ass Bride queen’s brains and beauty, which mark the How to Love an American Man blog‘s official first date. Send us off, Dana!
The Best Love Advice I’ve Gotten from an Elder
By Dana LaRue, creator, Editor-in-Chief & CEO, BrokeAssBride.com
I wanted to feel naughty submitting this. I thought, “Oh…I’ll submit this randy little nugget of sexytime advice I got from a girlfriend at my bridal shower because it’s cheeky yet honest…and that’s totally my jam!” Plus, being inappropriate just comes naturally to me. I’d tell you to blame it on my father, but I fear that sounds weird in this context. Oh well. It just does.
But then, I sat down to write it (let’s just say it had to do with how fun and easy stripteases for husbands are, mmmkay?), and another piece of advice popped into my head. It’s one of my most steadfast life principles, handed down to me by my mother from a very early age. Thing is, it’s not “technically” love advice. It’s life advice. But, I’ve decided it applies directly to relationships among its other virtues, so I’ll share it here. Anyway, the advice is very simple, yet powerful.
And it a’goes-a-little-something—
like….
The hardest thing to do is almost always the right thing to do.
So, this feels like it should be obvious. But it just so isn’t. Especially in those inevitable moments when The Dreaded Apology is in order. You’re angry and frustrated and maybe embarrassed and stubborn (and your p.m.s. is killing you), and your head is screaming “Apologize to him!” but your mouth is just continuing to defend/perpetuate/deflect/do anything but form the words “I am sorry, and I love you. Will you please forgive me?” that would put a stop to this whole thing if you could just muster them up. Or when, in a whirlwind moment of spontaneous shopping, you bought a really cute dress that was just a little more expensive than you feel comfortable spending, and you consider hiding it in the back of the closet and making him think you’ve had it for years, because what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him…right?
When you’re three martinis in on girls night and a hottie at the bar makes a pass at you; when you accidentally shrink his favorite shirt in the dryer; when you know it’s time to forgive and forget but are finding it hard to move on…from the mundane, banal arguments of everyday life to the heaviest, longest struggles of your relationship: this rule applies and never fails to pay dividends in peace of mind and heart between you and the love of your life.
The trick is, you have to actually do it. It takes practice and discipline and maybe (OK, definitely) some self-flagellation, and you won’t always be perfect—but as long as you keep trying, you’ll get there. And, when used liberally, it creates more intimacy, builds more trust, and deepens your love more honestly you ever thought possible. Which, you gotta admit, sounds pretty darn swell, don’t it? And it so is.
So there you have it. The best love (and life) advice I’ve ever gotten. From my mama. (Thanks, Ma!)
xo,
Dana
Adore you, Dana; and Grandma Glo would agree: she had some awesome advice on apologizing and forgiveness in the book (and yes, for me, that was one of the most challenging lessons).
Thanks a million to our friends at Broke-Ass Bride for being part of How to Love an American Man! Go here to pre-order the book, give it some love on Facebook and for exciting book updates the instant they break, follow me on Twitter. Also check back this Thursday for our next How to Love an American Man blog post from my friend Laura Lane, News Editor at OK! Magazine.
Harper Paperbacks, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers
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