“The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.”  George Bernard Shaw

This is one of a series of lessons adapted from my manuscript about my dating experiences.

Lesson Learned:

In my marriage, I was never heard. I said words, but they weren’t really listened to. If I tried to express how I was feeling, my words were turned against me, “I’m not the one who does that, you are,” he’d say. If we had differing points-of-view, then by default I was a fool for disagreeing with him. He regularly presumed my intent and because he never really listened to me, he never truly knew me. So I gave up. I resigned myself to my relationship reality. I stopped caring about my relationship and learned to swallow down my feelings and my words in the interest of just getting along.

Our marriage coasted along for several years until my husband, on a manic high, woke me up late at night and told me he was going to sell pot-vaporizers to “help people.” I made my displeasure clear, and this was followed by two days of mutual silence, a silence finally cracked upon his arrival home from work Monday when he announced, “I almost quit my job today….”

This was a pivotal moment. My first thought was that the boys’ health insurance was through their father, quickly followed by how untenable this whole situation was as both a mother and a schoolteacher in a non-420 friendly state. He was not partnering with me at all. Able to swallow my words no longer, I found my voice and told him to leave.

Communication goes two ways and involves two different skill-sets—finding the right words to express what you’re trying to say as accurately as possible, and listening to and trying to understand the message the other person is trying to convey. In my marriage, communication was a one-way street eventually leading to a dead-end.

When I started dating, communication wasn’t a big issue initially. With each man I carefully shared what parts of myself I felt comfortable expressing. I was clear about the parts of me I chose to share, but equally careful with what parts of me I held back. It wasn’t until I went out with Isaac that I realized I needed to be more clear in my communication.

Isaac was a light-bulb moment. He was the man who made me realize, “Oh, this is the kind of man I want to date.” The problem was, he was a non-native species. I knew I wasn’t going to find another single man like him in Nebraska. Suddenly, the stakes were much higher. Simultaneously I was more interested and my attractive options had abruptly narrowed. I wanted this man to like me. With other men this hadn’t been much of an issue. And Isaac was a professional art critic—how would he critique me?

On our first date, he disclosed how busy he was with work and how he lacked balance in his life. I responded, “As a full-time professional and single mother…,” only he apologetically interjected, retracting his difficulties before I could complete my sentence. He assumed I was downplaying his schedule, or perhaps vying for the spot of who-has-it-worse. Rather, I explained, I was affirming his difficulty and that I understand how hard it can be to strike a good balance. I was being empathetic rather than dismissive or competitive. Here I took the time to clarify my meaning. And, ultimately he heard me. Something my ex had failed to do.

My dating profile at the time stated that I’m Christian. Over dinner Isaac inquired, “Do you really believe all that stuff?” Wanting to own my truth yet not ready to delve deeply into religion on a first date, thinking that discussion could be explored later if we had connection, I simply responded, “Yes.” Later, I realized this was a mistake—by saying little, I allowed him to assume much.

My answer had been truthful enough, but it lacked clarity.  Being “Christian” could mean anything from a fundamentalist, which I am not, to a spiritually-inclined intellectual, which I am. If the issue was important enough for Isaac to bring up on a first date, my skirting the issue because I didn’t want to deal with it yet wasn’t going to improve my odds with him.

Ultimately, he was either going to like me and be open to the possibility of relationship or he wasn’t. That I wanted him to like me wasn’t going to change anything, it just made my reality more difficult. Regardless, I needed to be clear on who I am, and pass or fail on that alone, because the truth is I’m a fairly marvelous being and I don’t want to just be accepted, I want to be appreciated.

Communicating in a relationship is intrinsically different than communicating in a dating situation. I dated Stanley for four years. I worked on saying what I needed to say. He worked on being a good listener. We both worked on trying to see each other’s point-of-view and speaking in love, not in anger. For whether or not anger is justified, it impedes communication and it’s a destructive force. Speaking in anger never helped me resolve anything, it only created new problems.

When I’ve said things in anger, I found that my argument wasn’t heard, even with additional volume, and that I ended up equally mad at myself for the way I handled the situation. I learned that when I’m upset, I need to take a step back and give myself time to calm down and reflect. I need that time to find the words I really want to say and the composure to say them in the way I want them to be said. I want to speak gently and with kindness even in disagreement, because ultimately I want my relationships to be about love. And I want love to be part of the problem-solving process.

With Stanley, there were also things I left unsaid. Things I didn’t say to protect Stanley, or to protect us. Thoughts and feelings that I was afraid would over-burden the relationship, even after four years together. Being afraid to speak your truth is problematic, because then you are living an untruth. His actions failed to match his words and ultimately, I didn’t trust him. I’d invested enough time in the relationship, in us, and I wasn’t going to wait around anymore. He’d had his chance and failed. Trust is another lesson. Matching words and actions is another yet.

The Lesson’s Essence:

Communicate who you are clearly and confidently. If someone doesn’t like you, it doesn’t mean you aren’t enough, it only means they aren’t the right person, even if you want them to be. All you can do is be the best version of yourself and communicate who that is to the world.

When reading profiles, I don’t mind if someone tells me what they are looking for in a partner, but it’s a red flag when it becomes a checklist of what I need to be. One of the things that drew me to Stanley’s profile was that rather than tell me who I should be, his profile inquired, “What about you? What do you like?” I thought, “Wow! He really wants to get to know me!”

To be a good communicator, you must hone both your expressive and receptive skills. I’m an English major. I believe in the power of words, and in trying to find the best ones to communicate what you’re trying to say. And good communication requires doing your best to understand the message that’s being sent. If in doubt, paraphrase. Restate the message you heard to see if your interpretation matches the intention. And in the spirit of good relationship, trying to see your partner’s point-of-view and honoring where they are coming from is a love-move. And if you do your best at these, you deserve a partner who does the same. A successful relationship takes mutual effort.

Some people enjoy drama, I know because I was married to one of them. But I don’t. If you don’t like drama, then don’t create drama. If you’re angry, step back. Give yourself time to calm down and regain your composure, until you’re able to say what you have to say from a better frame of mind.

Good luck out there!