It seems the pandemic has resulted in people “recycling” relationships from their past, and I have already admitted to doing that and then being “ghosted” (the relationship was doomed the first go-round and trying to resurrect it reminded me of why). Although on the surface it may seem rude, there are a few “legitimate” reasons for ghosting, some less obvious than others.
Looking back to decades of dating, a handful of engagements, and two failed marriages, I realized none of them started as friendships. I will also admit that very few started with sparks of passion (I know those fizzle out), but all were analyzed in terms of compatibility. Too bad I was not aware of research indicating the majority of romantic relationships begin as long-term friendships.
This story began as an impromptu business meeting when I asked to speak to the manager of a food franchise I frequented, thinking there might be an opportunity to create a joint marketing opportunity with Red & Black. There was no way to know the attractive man sitting toward the back of the store, who I noticed when I first walked in, would be the district manager.
Although we seemed to connect in terms of business and marketing, and exchanged contact information, nothing came of it. Yet I would occasionally think of him. Several years later, Red and I were invited to speak at the 2011 Texas Conference for Women, and when we ran into him in the exhibition hall, I explained how we mentioned his company in our presentations.
Starting then, and over the years, we would occasionally find small ways to work together. But, we could go months without any contact, and then would meet for drinks and talk business and life. For hours. Red would ask why I did not pursue more, and I would always have an answer … or maybe it was an excuse. At first, I did not want to mix business and pleasure. Later, I wondered if it was mutual but did not want to risk the friendship hoping for more.
This past fall, as we all started to venture back out post-pandemic, I invited him to my high-rise for drinks, which Red pointed out was a significant step as I never invited anyone to my home. (In the past decade, only one other non-platonic man had seen my place.) The feelings seemed mutual, as was the apprehension about risking the friendship. As we talked for hours, I realized that he knew me better than almost anyone.
And, we had our first kiss. And, a second date, where I admitted, much to his surprise, that although I was a planner, I was going to try and let this relationship (he called it “being an item”) evolve organically. It was a new approach for me as I always look 20 years down the road and work backward.
Life then interrupted. Abruptly. And, repeatedly. First, my mother passed. Then, he had to deal with multiple life events that happened one right after another. At first, we texted on a regular basis. And then, there was nothing.
It was as if we had fallen back into our old habit of getting busy and putting the other person on the back burner. Not out of our lives, but recognizing something else needed our immediate attention. And, although he was in my thoughts, I decided to let him deal with things in his own way, with just the occasional text to let him know I was here if he needed me. Because,
We will always be friends, but if you rearrange the letters of the word “item,” you get the word “time” … and if we ever are to truly become an “item”, the time must be right.
It's a running joke in my family that the only reason I go to the movies is for the popcorn. And while that isn't 100% true, it's probably close, as I can't remember a time when popcorn wasn't an essential part of the experience.
I can still remember seeing Mel Brooks' "Young Frankenstein" when it was first released (in 1974) at the Massapequa movie theater, which was literally at one end of an old strip shopping center. It bore no resemblance to today's multiplex cinemas, and the concession stand offerings were very limited. It was dark and a bit dingy, and the seats were old and uncomfortable. But I didn't care because the popcorn more than made up for it. And while I sat through multiple showings of the movie (it's still one of my favorites), I was grateful my dad had given me enough money to buy multiple popcorns, as in those days there was no such thing as the big bucket, let alone free refills.
Fast forward, and some things never change...
First, I ask them to fill the large bucket "really high, please, I haven't eaten all day, and I'm starving." Ok, so I probably did eat earlier, but I need an excuse for asking for a ridiculous amount of popcorn, don't I? Which takes me to the next part of my routine. If the bucket's filled to the point of overflowing, I know exactly the pace to eat it so that it lasts for almost the entire movie. (Trust me, I'm not kidding!) And then, the final part of the routine … I don't start eating my popcorn until the movie begins. Not the coming attractions— the movie. (Unlike Black, who races to finish her small size popcorn by the time the movie starts as if it's something to be ticked off a "to do" list.)
So, think what you will, but for me, the popcorn's a critical part of what makes going to the movies so enjoyable. And has become an amusing memory for my youngest daughter and me, as many years ago, when we were in the concession stand line, she asked me what size popcorn I was getting,
I love you, honey, and you're so smart, but that may be the silliest question you've ever asked me. And, quite possibly, will ever ask me.
To this day, she still remembers it, and although she no longer lives at home, when she hears that I’ve gone to the movies, she’ll jokingly ask me what size popcorn I got. And in the same breath, answer the question. Because she knows that there’s only one answer.The biggest bucket available.
Every time we see the photo above of our "guinea pigs", it brings back such fond memories. You may be thinking, "What? Are they calling those students guinea pigs?!" Well, actually, yes. And before you think ill of us, please know that we use the term with great affection, deep gratitude, and utmost respect. And these eight amazing seniors from the Class of 2010 know that's our nickname for them because ...
We started calling them our "Guinea Pigs" as soon as they volunteered to help us develop our Red & Black Personal Finance and Life 101 program at KIPP Houston High School. It was important that they knew this was truly an “experiment”, as neither one of us was a teacher or a financial expert.
It all started at our first speaking engagement, when during Q&A a woman asked why the topics in our book weren’t taught in school. The next thing we knew, we were sitting in the office of Bryan Contreras, Director of KIPP Through College, and being asked not only to develop, but also to teach, a semester-long personal finance and Life 101 course to their high school seniors. During their spring semester. (Yes, the months right before they graduate.) While Red looked like a deer in headlights (we barely considered ourselves authors, let alone teachers), Black responded as she often does, with a simple:
Sure, not a problem.
While Red went home to carpool and baking cookies, Black did what she does best — use her corporate and business experience to tackle the challenge. So, she requested a "task force" of seniors to help us develop the curriculum because, as she put it:
If it is not relevant, why bother? And, who knows best what is relevant to high school seniors? High school seniors.
Black introduced them to the business concept of a working lunch (which might also be considered a pizza bribe), and we met for five Fridays. We gave them a list of select book excerpts they were expected to read each week so we could discuss what they thought should be included in the curriculum. That first week, they seemed motivated to help — but we weren't sure what to expect.
They came back excited and totally committed, with two of them having read the entire book and the rest having read much more than the assigned excerpts. Luckily, Red had been a straight-A, copious note-taking student. However, she could barely keep up with their comments and feedback, let alone the side discussions generated by the conversations in our book. You could see their interest in personal finance (and many other Life 101 topics) was strong and genuine, and they explained that learning from the mistakes of others was extremely powerful. One student, after prefacing his comment with apologies, stated:
When I grow up, I don't want to be Red.
We'll always be indebted to our Guinea Pigs for their enthusiasm and suggestions, as using our book as the textbook was their idea, not ours. And through their feedback on the book and the lessons they were already learning from it, which began at those pizza lunches, the answer to how best to "teach" a Red & Black class was obvious to them. It was as simple as a book club. For us, it took a little longer to come to that realization as we were hampered by our own preconceived notions about how lessons are taught in a classroom. So, although the initial intent may have been for us to be the teachers and them to be the students... we learned from each other.
P.S. – For those of you interested in a more "educational" look at our detour into the world of education, including "feedback" (student quotes, Black's "non-scientific" surveys, and KIPP press releases) from our two spring semesters when we "taught" at KIPP Houston High School, please check out An Unexpected Education Detour ...
Red loves to stop and reminisce. Black prefers to look forward.
But even Black will admit that sometimes there’s value in looking back — it reminds us where we came from, the detours and roadblocks we have managed to navigate, and that we may be stronger and more capable than we give ourselves credit for. Sometimes, it’s a lesson learned. Sometimes, it’s a memory that reminds us what’s truly important.
But Black has one caveat (and it's one of her favorite car analogies) …
If you decide to look back, keep it in perspective. There's a reason why windshields are so much larger than rearview mirrors.
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