I have recently made a new acquaintance and want to know her better. She is a tailor and took over the shop from the former owner who left the area. Her name is Sue. She is overcoming a divorce from a man she calls a sociopath, has two children, is overweight and told me something interesting. She won’t date until she’s thinner because she distrusts any man who would want her the way she is. Sue said “When you meet someone you are interested in, notice if he dislikes his family and if he has no friends. No matter how charming he is, if either of these factors are present, run for your life."

Ed says I collect dysfunctional people, but I don’t see her that way at all. He is being very judgmental and I have to set him straight. Anyone can marry the wrong person. It takes guts to pull yourself back together and move on.

Ed had a friend in New York that he never put through this yardstick. His friend was a gun dealer, former Vietnam vet with a horrendous experience living in the jungle and with nightmares that dogged him to the end. He was morbidly obese. They struck up a friendship over their mutual love of antique weaponry and spent hours together discussing their finds and analyzing what was available. Peter was married, had fathered a child with a woman who was extorting money from him and was, she claimed, connected to the mob and threatening violent action if he didn’t pay up. Peter was in desperate financial trouble. His ex wife worked for him and drove him to his therapist one morning. He said, “Stop by the shop,” and she pulled into the parking lot of the store, a sporting goods and gun dealership, and waited for him in the car. He never came out. He went into his private office, locked the door, got a pistol from the stock, loaded it, and ate a bullet.

The stories that surfaced after he died were desperate. His partner was left high and dry financially. There was no money for the widow. Peter just couldn’t handle things any more. I tell this story because people can be worth knowing even when they have led dysfunctional lives.

When Jay died I got grief counseling. The therapist was a woman (pregnant at the time) who tried to show me how the parts of my marriage that were difficult were a reason not to grieve so heavily. I found myself wondering how in the world she could understand 36 years of intimate connection and make such a judgment when she was at the beginning of her life. I told her I was ending therapy and she wanted me to come back “one more time”. At $80 a crack (uncovered), I thought that was self-serving. I didn’t go back.

My good friend Susan, who was in her second career as a therapist, told me I should have had that session. I said I didn’t see any reason why I should pay her so she could feel better. At that point, I sensed, it wasn’t about me any more but about her finding out how she had failed. So pay me, dearie.

xx, Teal