Two things I wish my father had taught me

    Most of us wish our fathers had taught us things. In my case, I wish he'd taught me how to deal with rejection, especially rejection by girls. My father was a bright man, but not as aware of others as many. He himself didn't experience much rejection and when he did, he handled it well. My psyche was more like my mother's, but gender differences prevented any lessons from her applying to me.

   Women of her era (she was born in 1931) and maybe now, are in different realms. The version of rejection they experience is more often not being chosen. With men, they pursue, and ask, and are either told yes or no.

   I had no natural ability to deal with women as other than friends. The wall I hit when it came to going beyond that was one that provoked frustration and anger when I was young. It wasn't until I was in my late thirties that I behaved appropriately when women rejected me. By my early forties, rejection became a positive thing for me. About once every two years or so I'd meet a woman I liked enough to make an attempt with. She'd reject me almost immediately. It would sting for a few months, and I'd refrain from trying again. Even after that pain subsided, I would feel no impulse to try again for another two years or so. Those two years stretched to three and then four. Now it's permanent. 

   There was some bitterness for many years, but not much, and it faded to mild wistfulness years ago. The lack of need for a partner is liberating.

   Going back to the past, here are the two things I learned late I wish my father had taught me when I was a teenager. They seem so obvious now that I feel dumb telling anyone, but if you're young, they may be of use.

• Use the baseball rule of three strikes. (There are now fouls or walks; it's either a hit or a strike.) I started this in my late thirties. After a date (a rare event, like four or five times in my life) I'd call the woman I'd dated and suggest getting together again. She'd say she was busy and not sure when she'd be free again. I'd call ten days later, same response. If she said it a third time, I'd say, politely, "Well, give me a call if you get some free time and want to do something." And I'd never hear from her again. Women are kind. Few want to reject you outright by saying something like (in my case), "I don't want to see you again because you are physically unattractive, unsuccessful, and not very interesting." 
  
• Persevere. I used to work with a man who had much success with women and even married one and had children with her. I was forty-two and had been rejected by a woman we both worked with. I told him about it. "When I was dating and a woman rejected me," he said, "I'd say one word to myself: Next!" This sounds idiotically simple, but I had never thought of it. 

   In the summer of 1981, I was just out of college and living in Minneapolis. Sometime that summer, I called the home of a woman I'd been nuts about for my last two years of college, who ended up rejecting me. (I can't say we were ever a real couple; we kissed a few times, but that was it.) She lived two states away and long distance was expensive then and I had little money. Not that that mattered; I'd had no intention of speaking to her. I just wanted to hear her voice. She had just finished her junior year and still lived at home. A woman answered. "Hello?" she said. (I don't think that's the universal way people answer phones now, but this was over a decade before caller ID became a regular thing.) She was one of two daughters and I couldn't tell from just that one word which of the three women it was. I remained silent. She said hello a couple more times before hanging up. I felt stupid and never called her again.

   There is nothing more pathetic than exposing your neediness like that, and I never did it to anyone else after that either.