Lessons of a Recycled
Relationship
by Wendee Mason
What would you do if I died tomorrow? I asked my husband of three years. We were both sitting in bed scheduling our individual busy lives, which rarely coincided.
Instantly he replied, I'd pack up everything and move to Hawaii.
Why do I have to be dead for you to move to Hawaii? I've always dreamed of living there too! Why don't you see if you can get a pharmacy job in Oahu, and I'll get my Hawaiian real estate license? I said with enthusiasm.
Within two weeks, Joe found a job, and I rented a small, fifteen hundred square foot house, across from Lanikai Beach on the windward side of the island. I referred my lucrative real estate business to other realtors, and packed up our twenty seven-hundred square foot custom home into a 24-foot moving container and shipped it across the Pacific. A month later, we arrived at the Honolulu airport. I had hopes for a new, relaxed, meaningful and fun life together.
Our home was modest, but we were ecstatic about living near the beach with warm, sea green water, balmy trade winds and the friendly aloha spirit. Joe, a water sports enthusiast, loved wind sailing in Kailua and surfing on the North Shore. While he was thrilled playing in the ocean like a child, I was alone at home, angry, sticky and hot, regretting the move.
The cost of living in Hawaii was astronomical. Joe's income was barely adequate. I became depressed and ate macadamia nuts by the truckload and gained thirty pounds. My best friends became Oprah, Sally, Montel, Jerry, Jenny, and Geraldo. Joe worked long hours, then wind surfed until dark every evening. We spent few waking hours together. It was as if we were roommates more than marriage partners.
I decided it was time to have a baby. After sharing my desire with Joe at dinner one evening, he cried and told me he wasn't happy and wanted a divorce. We went to counseling. On our third appointment, our marriage was pronounced dead. Joe went from husband to wasband in thirty days.
My quick decision to move to Hawaii six-months before exploded in my face as I struggled for a new direction. Savings from my prior real estate career disappeared. My self-confidence was remarkably low. Instead of selling million dollar homes, I got a part-time job cleaning them. On the fifth day of my cleaning career, in a moldy, cockroach infested, disgusting shower, I threw down my scrub brush and Clorox spray bottle and decided to stop feeling sorry for myself. I quit.
Having too much time on my hands, I wrote humorous and detailed letters to friends and family about my poverty-stricken, bug-infested, newly-single Hawaiian lifestyle. They wrote back and said I should have my letters published as articles. On a dare, I brought them to the editor of the local paper. They liked and published them monthly, though I didn't earn any income.
With nowhere else to turn, I asked Joe for money to tide me over. As he handed me a few hundred dollars, he announced it was time to get a real job. What kind of job do you suggest I get? I asked.
You have two college degrees and you're smart. Unfortunately, you don't last long in a job because you talk more than you work. Why don't you use that mouth of yours and create income with it? Why don't you speak for a living? he said.
I thought for a moment and challenged him. Even if I could speak for a living, what could be the topic that others would pay to hear?
Although you weren't great at marriage, you were great at dating. You have valuable experience dating lots of guys. You're wonderful at coaching all our single friends with their dating problems. Teach a class on dating!
Fireworks exploded in my head. I could talk about that subject for days. With a new enthusiasm and purpose for living, I went to my computer and wrote down everything I knew on dating. I read books and interviewed single people to find out their problems. Three months later, I came up with a three evening course on How to DateSmart.
Now I needed to learn how to speak professionally. Since I was financially challenged, I traded my time working with a speaker in exchange for public speaking lessons. Before each weekly class, I made at least two bathroom stops because I was so sick with fear. Each week, speaking in front of groups became easier. One day, I forgot to get ill on the way to class. That was my last class.
My first dating class started 10 days later. Opening the Kailua phone book, I started calling people and asking if there were any singles living there. My very first class had nine students, all with their last name starting with A. Most people paid $13 a night to hear me explain my ideas of how they could DateSmart. The fee also included dinner for everyone. At the end of the series, I wasn't any richer, but the experience increased my self-esteem and confidence dramatically. At the end of three weeks, I was transformed.
Unbelievable events followed. Thirty pounds disappeared in three months. I became an instructor at the University of Honolulu and taught my dating course on campus. The word about How to DateSmart spread. Radio stations called me to be a guest on their talk shows. On Valentine's Day 1994, a news anchor featured DateSmart on the news. This led to a fifteen-minute spot on a magazine TV show. In 1995, I moved back to San Diego. I expanded the workshop to eight evenings, and added a six-evening advanced course. In the last six years, I have helped many people, from teenagers to seniors, develop a personal and effective dating strategy to screen, find, and create a loving relationship with an appropriate mate. If it wasn't for my divorce, I wouldn't have taken this exciting path.
I learned three personal lessons through the process of being recycled:
I created my own misery in my marriage because I was needy. Though we
were not compatible, I thought my husband would fulfill my voids and make me happy. Moving to
paradise didn't make my life the dream I
wanted. When he left me, it felt as if my life was over. In retrospect, my personal
development had just begun.
Chemistry is now a small part of assessing who could be my future
partner. Now I use my head as well as my heart. My personal dating strategy is to ask
hundreds of questions to figure out compatibility. I look for similar passions, character
traits, integrity, high self-esteem, maturity, and goals.
My heart, now healed, has room for love again. Steve was a student in one of my classes. After being friends, we determined we were compatible in every way. Now I'm happy right where I am.