Those fun times in between the long-term commitments

Truth be told, I’ve had many different kinds of relationships. I was married for many years. I’ve been divorced. I’ve had a couple of long-term, committed relationships, and in between, I’ve dated. I’m in one of those in-between times now. Hence, this column.

I met a man. We went on a coffee date, which went well, surprise, surprise, and then on a dinner date, which also went well, surprise, surprise.

It was time for him to pick me up instead of just meeting. He was obviously not an ax murderer. So, he came to the house, and I -- ever the good hostess -- gave him the tour.

I showed him the downstairs and then my tiny one-car garage. He commented that I should build a series of shelves over the hood of my car to maximize the space. That may be a good idea, but it’s not what I want in there. He explained why it would work well.

Upstairs in my office, he extolled the virtues of a different chair.

Then he asked if I had a security system. I do not, but I feel safe. My dog barks at the drop of a hat, and I’m not worried about it, which was what I said, but he wasn’t to be deterred. I finally had to say, “No,” emphatically.

I bet you’re getting the picture.

We went to dinner, and I ordered an appetizer that comes with two large potato chips, which I adore. So here we were, seated in a nice booth -- he was still a little over-bearing but not too bad -- when suddenly he took his fork and flipped one of my potato chips up into the air. It fell on the floor.

“What are you doing?” That was me.

“You can’t eat that,” he commanded.

“Well, I sure can’t eat it now. It’s on the floor!”

“There was a bug on it, a big horse fly,” he explained.

“I didn’t see a bug. Even so, how about telling me? Don’t just stick your fork in my plate. I hardly know you.” I was upset. It had been building all evening, and this was the last straw.

“I like feisty women,” he said.

We muddled through the rest of the meal and ended the evening but it stayed with me and bothered me. Now, I know that men are problem solvers by nature, and I couldn’t imagine that his intentions were anything but good. I knew he was trying to be helpful and appear competent -- big roles for men. Valuable ones, too. I kept mulling it over and over. But the big question was -- what was going on with me?

I grew up with a very invasive mother. She was always offering her opinion, under the guise of constructive criticism. She was only too quick to tell me how I should do whatever in a different way, which would be better than what I was doing. I got constant advice, whether I wanted it or not, which was intrusive.

Now, granted, not everyone is like me. For people whose parents did not pay good attention, perhaps bordering on benign neglect at times, unasked-for advice might feel supportive, comforting and caring. It might mean that someone is paying attention and taking care of you. It depends on what your life experience has been.

Once I understood this, I called him to explain why I’d been so feisty. I didn’t want to leave things the way they’d been left. I tried to talk only about myself. I said that I wasn’t saying he did anything wrong, but that for me, it’s very hard because of the way I grew up to be open to advice when I haven’t asked for it. He said he didn’t know what I was referring to but that if this was hard for me, would I be willing to tell him if he does it again. I said I would, and I thanked him for being able to hear me. I was happily surprised it went so well.

What rings in my head, and what I didn’t say because it would’ve served no purpose, are the words of a woman I respect tremendously, longtime yogini Judith Lasater. She says: “Unasked-for advice is, by definition, criticism.” And I do agree. Because -- just think about it -- you’re going along, everything’s fine, and suddenly the peace is interrupted by someone telling you that what you think is OK is not up to par and needs to be different. There is never a positive message in advice you haven’t asked for, and the notion of constructive criticism is a self-serving ruse.

The irony is that it’d be easy to find myself on the other side of this. As the mother of three girls, there’s a lot to comment on, believe me. But I don’t want to do to my daughters what was done to me, and so I hold my tongue, mostly, and try to look with soft eyes that see that these girls are grown up, and it’s now their turn to do as they see fit without unsolicited commentary from me, however well-intentioned.

Please Note: I will be speaking at 7 p.m. Thursday at the Newport Beach Public Library. My topic is a Recipe for Living Well, and I will talk about how to enhance your relationships. Please come.

* MAXINE COHEN is a Corona del Mar resident and a marriage and family therapist practicing in Newport Beach. She can be reached at maxinecohen@adelphia.net or at (949) 644-6435.

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