Many of us have regarded the recent union of erstwhile famous model Jerry Hall, and billionaire Rupert Murdoch, with abject horror. I must admit I’ve been amongst the incredulous ranks of the Doubting Thomases. We ask ourselves, apart from his billions, what can Jerry possibly see in Rupert? Surely the best wedding present he could possibly receive, would be a caseful of Viagra. At the ripe old age of 85, isn’t this is going to be a case of “death in the saddle“? I had an uncle who met his demise, whilst on the job with his mistress, causing extreme embarrassment to his nearest and dearest – and I suspect it can’t have been much fun for said mistress, to find herself being rapidly jettisoned from the throes of passion, to having to extract herself from beneath a corpse, “in flagrante delicto“, as we lawyers say. Having said that, for my uncle, could there really have been a more fun way to go?
The point is, what floats one person’s boat, may not necessarily float another’s. One man’s, (or woman’s) meat, is another man’s poison. And very often why this is the case, isn’t necessarily obvious to an outsider. In my new self-help book, “From Dinner Date to Soulmate – finding love at any age“, I discuss the expectations we all have and the emotional filters we operate through, when selecting a partner. These are commonly unconsciously tainted by our past experiences, going as far back as childhood, and the “commands” we were indoctrinated with, by our parents and other supposed caretakers. Then, in ripe adulthood, we can discover that we repeatedly choose the same type of unsuitable partner, ending in a tsunami of tears. Einstein said that madness is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. This wisdom has never been more clearly manifested, than in the arena of intimate relationships.
Take my beloved third hubby, Peter. His “previous” include an array of not what you might term conventionally beautiful women. One had a gammy leg and another used to remove her false teeth every night, carefully placing them in a glass on her side of the bed. The point being, that beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder, and frankly it’s none of our business anyway!
As for myself, I was an ardent “beardist“, all my life. I did NOT do beards and bald patches. When I met Peter in 2002, on our second date, I brazenly pointed to the offending facial fuzz, exclaiming, “and THAT will have to go“. It was almost the end of a beautiful potential relationship. Which just goes to show that what I knew about healthy relationships 14 years ago, you could have written on a postage stamp.
I’ve discovered that often what we think we want in a partner, ie no beard, bald patch and must be over 6 foot tall – isn’t necessarily what we need. It takes a lot of inner work to deconstruct the illusions we’ve created, but without The Work, the painful lesson will be repeated until it’s learned. In my book, I cover this aspect fully, and provide a plan for successfully doing just.
I very quickly learned to love that quirky beard and the sexy little bald patch, just as much as the man who sports them. Indeed, the latter provides a useful signpost, from the back of any aircraft, preventing me from mistakenly hurtling myself onto the lap of the bemused man in row 14 instead of the correct seat.
So Jerry and Rupert – I wish you “bon courage et bonne route” together – and don’t forget to relocate to an area where there are excellent primary schools!