killingspiders13

The Reluctant Caregiver: Picking Your Parent’s Nursing Home

FullSizeRender (2)Many years ago, I bought my mom a gag gift.  It was a crafty sign that hangs on the wall that reads, “Be Kind to Your Children, they Pick Your Nursing Home.”

Fast forward a couple of decades.  Today, I chose my mother’s nursing home.

That shouldn’t be a big deal.  I work for an organization whose mission is to “disrupt aging.”  I analyzed our local facilities a few months ago when my significant other’s father needed to be in a facility temporarily.  Ironically, I had just thrown all of that information away.

When my mom was in good health and of sound mind, I would joke with her about the time when she couldn’t live on her own anymore.  I would jovially say that I would send her to the nursing home near her house.

When the hospital where she was a patient said they were going to discharge her to a skilled nursing facility for rehabilitation, she chose the nursing home near her house.

My sister and I sounded the alarms.  That facility gets very bad scores on Medicare’s Nursing Home Compare tool.  One star!  Much below average!

Mom, like most older people in her position, wanted to stay near her home.  But most of all, she wanted to stay near her dog.

Mopsey is a Lhasa Apso who is at least 15 years old.   She got him soon after her border collie, Jessie, passed away.  He had been abandoned near the local veterinarian’s house, and the vet thought Mopsey would be perfect for Mom, who was grieving for Jessie.  He was right.  They became fast friends and constant companions, even when my mom met and married her second husband.

My stepfather passed away after 10 years of marriage to Mom, but Mopsey was still her constant companion.  Grandchildren were born (my sister’s kids), I moved further away, but Mopsey was always there. An odd dog, he wasn’t lively and high strung like most small breeds.  He was sedate, almost depressed.  Perfect for Mom.

When Mom fell and broke her wrist, Mopsey was there.   She was taking him out at the time.  Her health was a downward spiral after that.

After her fall, Mom hired caregivers to stay with her – mostly at night.  She professed a fear of falling.  But I believe a fear of being alone, and a need for someone to care for Mopsey, drove her to spend several thousand dollars she really didn’t have on caregivers who didn’t do that much for her.

Let me note it’s not the caregivers’ fault.  Mom didn’t give them many tasks, other than running a few errands, taking Mopsey out, and sleeping in her house.

Her health became so bad one of the caregivers called me in alarm.  Mom was getting worse and wouldn’t let them do anything.

My sister intervened.  She lives about 2 ½ hours away and went for a visit.  Disturbed by Mom’s condition, she convinced her to go to the closest university medical center.

That brings us to today.  Mom was in the hospital for nearly two weeks. They conducted a multitude of tests, two procedures and treated her medical problems.  It was time to talk about next steps.

Mom had been adamant she wanted to go to her hometown nursing home.  No matter how many times we joked we would send her there, my sister and I did not want her to be a resident.  We read the reviews, the inspection reports, etc.  We heard from people in the community who had opinions.  If she went there, she would get even more seriously ill.

As luck would have it, her neighbor who was caring for Mopsey needed to go out of town at the same time I planned to visit.   He inquired regarding my plans for the dog.  I learned his schedule was about to become very hectic, and there is no room in it for a geriatric pup.  I said I would bring the dog home with me when I visit.

Low and behold, Mom determined that Williamsburg, Virginia, is where she wants to reside during her rehabilitation.  Not because it’s a major retirement mecca.  But because it’s where her dog will be living.

That’s OK.  Mopsey is a sweet pup.  We have many good options for long-term care in Williamsburg.

Today, I chose my mother’s nursing home.

This is a new journey for us.  Despite the fact that I work for the world’s leading advocacy group for people age 50+, and have the world’s experts and research on aging at my fingertips, I’m scared as hell.

But then I step back and think about what it must be like to be my mother.  She was in a giant hospital, underwent numerous tests, and she couldn’t name the president of the United States.

This is sad.  I remember the day President Obama was elected, and my mom’s elation.  She was glued to the TV.  She followed every moment of the inauguration.  She commented on Michelle’s dress.

Today, she can’t remember the name Barack Obama.  It’s sad.  It’s scary.

I never had children.  It was a choice I made, not fate.  But here’s my mom, needing the guidance of an unruly teenager.

I see a challenging journey ahead. Stay tuned!

killingspiders13

Ginger’s Soapbox: The Affordable Health Care Act

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Congress passed the Affordable Care Act, a.k.a. Obamacare, and the world didn’t end.  The U.S. Supreme Court basically upheld most of the important parts of the new law.  The world didn’t end.

There have been millions of words written about all of the dire consequences of a law that gives most Americans health care coverage.  But I want to concentrate on the good things.  Let’s go over a few:

Preventive care benefits are covered at 100%.  Regardless of your policy – and there have been many complaints about the policies available through the ACA – your well-woman, well-man and well-child services are completely covered.  No copay.  No deductible.

You can keep your kids on your policy through age 26, regardless of whether they are in school, living on their own, or married.

Medicare benefits are enhanced.

I read one article where a man complained that his ACA premium was over $400 per month while his girlfriend’s premium was completely covered by a government subsidy.  He made over $60,000 a year, while she earned $18,000.

My first thought was, “Why does this guy begrudge the woman he loves affordable health care?”  If he resents subsidizing his girlfriend’s health insurance, he certainly doesn’t want to help total strangers.

And that’s what’s wrong with this country.  It’s completely contrary to the principles under which this nation was founded.

What happened to the common good?

I subsidize my boyfriend’s health insurance.  He’s a retired military officer.  He doesn’t pay a premium for his health coverage.  I also subsidize my mail carrier, the federal prosecutor, the local FBI agent and all of the active duty military members, just to name a few.

Then there are the school teachers, state highways workers, and other government employees.  My tax dollars pay for health care for all of these people.  I used to pay for my member of Congress, but the ACA makes them buy health insurance through the exchange, and none of them qualify for subsidies.

Let’s give a crap about our fellow man, be thankful for what we have, and do something for the common good.  Acceptance.  Love. Tolerance.

killingspiders13

Ginger’s Soapbox: Flags

Confederate_Rebel_Flag.svg

If you display the Swastika or any of the flags of the Third Reich in Germany today, you face a prison term of three years. Six million Jews were murdered during the Holocaust under Nazi leadership.  It’s not a history the country wants to remember.

Four million African natives were enslaved in the United States in the 18th and 19th centuries.  The appalling practice of slavery ended with the American Civil War, and a symbol of the South is the Confederate flag.

Let’s not forget that the Confederates were, by today’s definition, terrorists.  They staged an insurrection against the federal government.  Those who want to make the Confederates seem not so terrible say the conflict was about state’s rights.  That technically is true.  But the primary reason was the southern states wanted to maintain the right to enslave other human beings. The other reasons the states wanted to maintain their rights are long forgotten.

Descendants of Confederate military veterans say the flag is a symbol of their heritage.  Do they think we are stupid? Have you seen these people?  They aren’t historians or even genealogy buffs.  They are racists.  If the descendants of the Confederates were truly interested in preserving their history, they wouldn’t have permitted their flag to become a symbol of racism and white supremacy.

As a former journalist, I usually support the right to free expression.  But when it is something that has become so divisive to our nation and society, there should be limits.

It’s time to burn the Confederate flag once and for all.

killingspiders13

Ginger’s Soapbox: Marriage

ringsKudos to the U.S. Supreme Court for getting it right:  people who love one another and want to enter into a marital commitment should be allowed to do so.  I’ve actually been surprised at some who have expressed dismay with this decision.  People who have often presented themselves as loving, tolerant and accepting have shown that they certainly are not.

The government got into the marriage business a long time ago.  I understand the argument that the government shouldn’t be involved.  Perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary if couples could end marriages without needing a judge to make decisions for them.

The opposition to same-sex marriage is generally attributed to religious views.  It’s important to remember that the court shouldn’t legislate religious views.  But those who are opposed to same sex marriage want the court to endorse their views.

Marriage is a civil arrangement.  It’s a legal contract.  For the more spiritual, it’s also a way of committing to their faith through a romantic and familial union.  That’s wonderful for those who make that choice.  I wouldn’t try to take that away from those couples.

It troubles me that the most religious are the most opposed to same sex unions.  One would think that those with great faith would be the most tolerant, loving and accepting of others.  Apparently that attitude applies only to those whose views and lifestyles are akin to theirs.

The majority decision said it best:  No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.

There are lots of arguments against same-sex marriage.  None make much sense.  Some surround the issue of procreation. Those who think marriage is only about having children are shortchanging themselves.

Proponents of same-sex marriage cross religious, cultural and political boundaries.  I know a conservative Republican who wants his gay son to be able to marry the person he loves, a conservative Jewish man (also a Republican) who is married to a man, and a devout Pentecostal (a former Republican) who has been out of the closet more than decade.  I won’t even go into the Biblical references to same-sex couples.

The bottom line is this:  as someone who has been married twice and who is currently in a long-term relationship but chooses not to be married, I admire those who want to make the commitment to marriage so badly that they fought a decades-long court battle to win the right to marry the one they love.

Let’s be loving, accepting and tolerant of our friends, relatives and neighbors who want their commitment to be recognized as just as important as everyone else’s.

killingspiders13

Ginger’s Soapbox: Caitlyn Jenner

CaitlynRegardless of what you think about transgender individuals, you have to acknowledge that Caitlyn Jenner is one courageous chick.  She gave up a life as a famous male athlete to become a woman at age 65 and pose for the cover of Vanity Fair.  It takes a real woman to do that.

Yes, Caitlyn is a real woman.  She once was a man who won many awards as an athlete.  Because she is now a woman doesn’t mean that Bruce Jenner was any less of a man.  Any attempts to denigrate his athletic prowess should be stifled.

So many of the stories and comments about Jenner are disturbing.  Most disturbing is what it reveals about society’s views of women.  Hello, it is 2015.  Why is it so appalling that a man would want to be a woman?  No one made such a fuss when Chastity Bono – daughter of Sonny and Cher – became a man.  Is it because being male is superior to being female?  Can we identify with the desire to be a man, but not with the need to be a woman?

Daily Show commentator Jon Stewart nailed it when he said, “Caitlyn, when you were a man, we could talk about your athleticism, your business acumen. But now you’re a woman, which means your looks are really the only thing we care about.”

Sadly, Stewart was dead-on when he said: “Caitlyn Jenner, congratulations. Welcome to being a woman in America.”

I didn’t choose to be born female, but I’m glad I was.  I’ve always supported equality between the sexes and worked hard to overcome stereotypes that hold women back.  This story demonstrates we have a long way to go, but we are lucky to have a high-profile advocate join the team.

killingspiders13

Ginger’s Soapbox: Poaching Dentist

palmerWhen I’m accused of being a bleeding heart liberal, I plead guilty as charged.  Those watching my Facebook page or Twitter feed lately probably think I’m an anti-hunting radical.  I’ve been appalled by the story of Walter Palmer, the Minnesota dentist who killed Cecil, a protected lion, while on a $55,000 hunting safari in Zimbabwe.  My boyfriend isn’t a liberal – he is actually a (gulp) Republican – and he thinks the guy is a piece of shit.

Believe it or not, I’m not against hunting.  I actually have some locally-harvested venison in my freezer at the moment.  I have friends who hunt deer for food and to help keep the population under control.  While I feed the deer that wander into my back yard and would never permit someone to kill them, I understand that moderate hunting is a necessary evil.  I’m not all that fond of venison – not enough fat – but a couple of times a year it’s an interesting dinner.

Walter Palmer, the Minnesota dentist, isn’t just some guy who likes to eat game.  He’s a wealthy dude – he could pay more than $50,000 to kill a lion in Africa – who likes to kill animals so that he can say he did it and take home a trophy.

There has been extensive debate online regarding whether he is a sociopath or a psychopath.  I’ve weighed in on some of those debates.

That’s because I think people who have to kill animals for fun are sick.  Yes, I know some of them.  Trophy hunters are on my Facebook friends list.  That doesn’t mean we are close pals, and it doesn’t mean they are psychologically stable.

If any of them were to engage me in a conversation on the subject, I would suggest they sit down with a therapist and discuss their need to kill animals for enjoyment.  I see photos of dead giraffes and zebras and wonder, “What the hell is wrong with these people?”

I have love and empathy for people with mental health disorders.  None of us are immune from such diseases.  But when we discuss Walter Palmer, we aren’t talking about a guy with depression or bi-polar disorder.  We aren’t even talking about a real hunter.  He didn’t go out into the wilderness and track down a wild animal and kill it.  He paid an obscene amount of money to “guides” who baited a beloved lion out of a PROTECTED habitat so that he could kill it at night via “spotlighting.”  Something that is illegal in the U.S. for deer hunting, by the way.

That’s not hunting.  That’s like opening the zoo gate and shooting the animals when they wander out.

That guy is a sicko.  He has some strange need to kill majestic, wonderful animals.  The media have dug into his background and revealed that he pled guilty to a federal charge of poaching a bear, and that he was also disciplined by the dental board for sexually harassing a female employee.

Predators are predators.  Walter Palmer is a predator.  It’s ironic that he killed – for fun and sport – a beautiful animal just for the sake of killing.

Anyone who thinks that is emotionally healthy should book an appointment with a psychologist forthwith.

killingspiders13

Introducing Ginger’s Soapbox.

soap boxWhile I promise not to offer excessive commentary on current events, there have been a few news stories lately that I have felt compelled to write about.   Instead of inundating my readers with daily posts, I will try to space them out so that I can alienate as many people as possible on a weekly basis.  Welcome to Soapbox Wednesday.

Five news events have been significant recently:  Bruce Jenner becoming Caitlyn, the Supreme Court overturning state bans on same-sex marriage, new interest in the significance of the Confederate battle flag following tragedy in South Carolina, the Affordable Care Act standing up to Supreme Court scrutiny, and a Minnesota dentist/trophy hunter who allegedly killed a beloved lion lured away from a protected habitat.

Although these topics are inherently different, there are common themes that tie them together: tolerance, acceptance and love.

Occasionally, I will continue to ruminate on various current events.  I am drawn to those that highlight tolerance, acceptance and love – or those that expose a lack of those qualities.

killingspiders13

Reflections on Father’s Day

Dad and me in our house in Bergoo, WV. I was about 5 years old.
Dad and me in our house in Bergoo, WV. I was about 5 years old.

On the occasion of Father’s Day, I’m taking a break from my usual upbeat or sickenly sentimental blog posts for some reflections on Fatherhood.  When it comes to my thoughts on Fatherhood, I forfeited my feminist card many years ago.  Fathers get a bad rap all the way around.  As a woman, I truly believe that we won’t be equal in the workplace and elsewhere until we permit men to have equal parenting responsibility.  I also believe that men aren’t equal parents, not because they don’t want the responsibility, but because mothers won’t permit them to be.  Those women are shortchanging their children at the expense of their own identity.  That is sad.

Those who know me well know that I had a close relationship with my father.  Not so much with my mother.  I grew up in a traditional family of the time — Dad worked.  Mom stayed home and took care of my sister and me.  She was a housewife, which wasn’t so unusual in the 1960s and 1970s.  Today, my sister has the same lifestyle — except she’s a stay-at-home-mom, not a housewife.  Honestly, the role is different today than it was 40 years ago.  More on that in a future post.

I idolized my dad.  He was kind, soft-spoken and loving.  He was very wise.  He liked to read.  He was curious.  An electrician by training, he read up on everything from fly fishing to bird watching.

What many don’t know is that my dad was raised by a single father to five boys.  His mother — my grandfather’s second wife (his first died in the flu pandemic of 1918) — died when my dad and his twin brother, Gene, were nine years old.  My dad and his four brothers were raised by his father, albeit not really well.  He was raised mostly by people in the community, his friends’ parents, and his older brothers and their wives.  He was a bachelor until the ripe  age of 32, which was old for a single man in 1961 when he married my mom, who was a spinster at 23.

And what few people know is that he died in 1990 of a massive heart attack while he was talking on the telephone with me.  I still cry when I think of it.  I still miss him, dream of him.  And I wonder how my life would be different if he were still around.

My mom, who was only three years older than I am now when Dad died — eventually remarried.  My stepdad was a great guy, an educator and hobby farmer.  His wife had passed away after a long battle with cancer.  When I looked back through old photos, I realized it was he who handed me my diploma when I graduated from high school.  Like Dad, he was wise and quiet.  Unassuming.

My dad’s last words to me were, “how are the floors coming?” I was living in an apartment that was the first floor of a circa 1800s mansion.  My roommate and I had made a deal with the landlord to refinish the hardwood floors in exchange for lower rent.

Some shrinks say that people typically choose partners that are most like their primary caregiver parent.  I have to say that is true for me.  Most of my romantic partners are more like my mom than my dad.  Only one stands out as being like my dad — both physically and personality-wise:  tall, thin, blue eyes, brown hair, square jaw, unassuming, quiet, intellectual, goofy sense of humor. I blame his similarities to my dad for the reason I kept going back to him, despite the fact I should not have done so.  I’ve learned my lesson.

But I’ve always chosen men who are good fathers with strong family ties.  Perhaps it’s because I didn’t have strong family tie of my own..  After my dad died, my sister and I drifted away.  We both maintain an arms-length relationship with our mom.  Those who are closest to us know why.

My ex-husband and I spent the better part of our 13-year marriage fighting for custody of his son, lobbying for changes in West Virginia’s child custody laws (which we achieved) and counseling other disenfranchised parents who were cut out of their children’s lives for no reason.

My current partner was a single father, gaining custody of his toddler twins at a time when fathers didn’t get custody of their children.  His kids are adults now, He did a terrific job raising them, with a lot of help from his parents, sisters, and his second wife.

My former stepson is a wonderful young man now.  I marvel at how he has developed as his own person — despite his parents and step-parents — since I met him when he was three years old.  Now 21, he lives in a major city, attends a prestigious university, and asserted himself against the influence of both parents in a manner that I uphold and admire.  I can’t take complete credit for his greatness, but I like to think I contributed to his upbringing and shaped him to be himself, despite opposing forces that might disagree. We stay in touch, and I consider him my son.  I’m deeply proud of him and admire him for being courageous enough to assert himself at a young age.  He has a terrific shot at being happy.

I was childless by choice.  Honestly, it never occurred to me to have children.  My father imparted the implication that intelligent, successful women don’t give birth.  My mother seemed so very unhappy with motherhood it made the institution very unappealing (my sister, however, is blissful as a full-time mom to her kids, so it wasn’t an attitude universally applied).  I greatly enjoyed my role as Stepmom, which is a lot like being an aunt or grandmother.  You get the glory without the responsibility.  I wish I were closer to my own niece and nephew, who are delightful, if challenging, and adorable children.

My current partner’s children are adults who are very different despite being fraternal twins.  They were largely raised by a stepmother who is no longer part of their lives.  They don’t need a parental stepmother’s relationship with me.  I appreciate each of them for the individuals they are, and contribute by offering my own observations regarding their parental needs to their father.  The daughter is beautiful, successful and independent.  The son is a sensitive free spirit (more like me), who doesn’t seem to care that he isn’t living up to his parents’ expectations.  I like that.

Sometimes I think that the only man who ever truly loved me was my father.  Intellectually, I know this isn’t true.  I know my partner loves me.  I know my former partners loved me, too.

But nothing will ever be the same as a father’s love.  And that’s a good thing.

To all of the fathers in the world — especially those who have been disenfranchised from their childrens’ lives for no reason– I wish you much more than Happy Father’s Day.  I wish you a very happy life, and an amazing relationship with your offspring.

killingspiders13

Isn’t it ironic? Or is it?

©wine-searcher.com
©wine-searcher.com

The name of this blog is Killing Spiders because its original intent was to focus on content of interest to single women over 40.  Single women, I mused, have to kill spiders themselves because they don’t have a partner to do the deed.

Readers could construe this as sexist — why can’t a woman kill a spider?  Why is it the man’s job to kill spiders?  What about same-sex relationships, who is supposed to kill the spider?

Since starting this blog in 2013, I have become part of a couple.  Legally, I’m single, but I live with my significant other in a committed relationship.  One would think that I no longer have to kill my own spiders.  After all, I have this man who cleans my garage and fixes my plumbing.  Isn’t he doing pest control, too?

Think again.

I live with a guy who WON’T KILL SPIDERS!  Or snakes, either.  But we don’t have any of those crawling around the house (hopefully).

My Honey is an environmental conservationist.  He loves animals and respects the world’s ecosystem.  His undergraduate degree is in Biology.  He won’t kill a spider, or most any bug, except mosquitoes and cockroaches.

His creature-respecting side is one of the things I love about him.  My cat, Nala, likes him better than she likes me.  While I find it sweet and touching that he is angered and saddened when a careless motorist hits a fox on the highway, I’m a bit annoyed by the “no dead spiders” rule.  I have to surreptitiously squish the creepy arachnids when he’s not looking.  I’ve flushed a few when he isn’t home.  But the other day, when he carefully trapped a spider in a plastic cup and asked me to set it free in the back yard, I grudgingly did as he asked.  After all, he goes along with some of my whacky habits, too.

One could say the fact that I fell in love with a spider protector is ironic.  What do you think?

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The definition of irony.

 

Those of us of a certain age remember the Alanis Morisette song “Ironic,” which was in frequent rotation on radio stations in the mid-1990’s.  The ironic thing about the song is that none of the situations of which she croons are ironies.  The lyrics have been analyzed for appropriate use of the literary device, and guess what? No irony!

Most of you are probably thinking, ‘OK, no big deal.  This chick has to kill her own spiders.  So what?’ Or, ‘why the hell is she going on about irony?’  Well, I’m a writer and irony is one of my favorite devices.

Wait, there’s more!

A couple of weeks ago I woke up one morning with a large — and when I say large I mean GIANT — red, bruising mark on my calf just under the bend of my knee.  My thoughts immediately went to the worst possible cause of such a wound — blood clot.

My wound a week after it appeared.
My wound a week after it appeared.

After an Urgent Care visit, a trip to my primary care physician and a vascular imaging study, my family doctor’s initial diagnosis stands:  spider bite!  I’m still taking some high test antibiotics and the wound continues to be swollen and discolored.

I went home from my second doctor visit and told my Sweetie what the doc had said:  it’s probably a spider bite.  She told me three times to check the bed for spiders.  I thought this silly, as I had just changed the sheets.

“Oh, there was a spider on the bed a few days ago,” my spider lover said.

I squealed: “WHAAAAAAAT???? Where was I? Did you KILL it?!”

“You were asleep.  I flicked it off onto the floor,” was the answer I received.

EEEEEKKKKKKK!

So what do you think?  Is it ironic?

 

killingspiders13

Does every woman want a Lloyd Dobler?

20th Century Fox
20th Century Fox

Those of us – especially women – of a certain age remember Lloyd Dobler, John Cusack’s character in the 1980’s movie Say Anything.  A famous scene from the movie places Lloyd outside his romantic interest’s bedroom window, boom box held high above his head, blasting Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes.”

The movie came to mind recently when my own boyfriend told me that a young male friend of his had called him because his longtime live-in girlfriend had left him.  For context, this young man is 30-ish, and he’s calling upon his older professional mentor for advice.

The young couple, both in the military, had been geographically separated for a couple of months because the woman was away for training.  After she had been gone a month or so, she asked her boyfriend to come visit her on a three-day weekend.  He told her he couldn’t come because he had invited friends over to celebrate the holiday – which happened to be Mardi Gras, and they live in New Orleans.  She is on the West Coast for her class.

My boyfriend, a seasoned and sexy 52-year-old man, did what any man would do in such a situation.  He turned to me, “What should I tell him?”

“Tell him to get on a damn plane, pronto,” was my answer.

We all know that Lloyd Dobler got on the plane.

What does the fact he didn’t get on the plane say to me?  That he’s not all that into her.  She did the right thing, as heartbreaking as it must have been.  Perhaps she even found someone else, someone who IS into her…someone who would get on the plane.

She had been gone a month, and there was a three-day weekend – which also included Valentine’s Day, along with President’s Day, followed by the famous Fat Tuesday.

It appears as if she suggested that he fly out to see her on short notice.  What I suspect is that she had been patiently waiting for him to suggest they get together on the three-day weekend that coincided with Valentine’s Day.  When he didn’t make the gesture, she invited him to visit her.  He took a pass.

His obligation to his friends was more important than seeing her, when she had been gone a month.  There is really no way to undo that.  A truckload of flowers, maybe.  I suggested that he get on the next plane and beg forgiveness.  My sweetie pointed out that this dude doesn’t have that kind of money – that buying a last-minute plane ticket to the West Coast would be pricey.

If she – and the relationship – were really that important to him, he would have told his friends that something suddenly came up; he would have dipped into savings or run up his credit card and hopped the next plane to the West Coast.  After all, he’s asked her to marry him.  She’s supposedly the love of his life.   Isn’t she worth it?

In love, actions speak louder than words.  A relationship counselor I know says you should pay attention to your partner’s actions rather than their words.  They may say they love you and you are a priority, but do they show it, every day, in their deeds?

Grand romantic gestures don’t have to be expensive, like buying a last-minute plane ticket to a far-away city.  I know a man who once had a cop buddy pull his girlfriend over on her way to work and deliver a bouquet of flowers.  I know another man who quit his job and moved hundreds of miles two weeks after meeting his wife, whom he married a few weeks later.  Another guy I know, a very frugal gentleman, spent $10,000 on his wife’s engagement ring.  Yes, he could afford it, but this is the same guy who never bought himself a new car.  The fact he spent big bucks on her that he wouldn’t spend on himself meant something.

I’ve made some grand gestures, myself.  I’ve driven hundreds of miles and rented a pricey hotel room to be near my boyfriend so that we could see one another while he was traveling for work.  I once flew to Newark, NJ on my lover’s birthday to have dinner and spend a (very short) night before getting back on a plane and flying home for a work meeting.  I’ve driven three hours in sleet and snow at night to spend time with the object of my affection, only to get up early the next day for a three-hour commute to my office – and then did it all again the next day.  I’ve surprised my man at the airport when he returned from a business trip, recruiting a friend to drive me an hour to the airport, so that we would have an extra hour in the car on the way home.

Over the years, I’ve also been the recipient of grand romantic gestures.  I have gotten off of planes to be greeted by flowers and large signs proclaiming love.  One guy I had gone out with once – and wasn’t interested in – got off a plane from a business trip (to the West Coast, no less) and drove straight to my office to see me.  Colleagues wondered why this didn’t win me over.

The answer is:  I wasn’t that into him.

The romantic gestures – big or small – are a reflection of one’s level of interest in their partner.  Making an effort, being thoughtful, demonstrating that they are worth it—those are the things that really matter.

I don’t know the young woman on the West Coast, but I definitely know how she feels.  She feels like her boyfriend thinks she’s not worth the effort.  What she did had to be painful, but it was courageous.  She got out before it was too late (in the interest of full disclosure, I’m told she had done a couple of things to indicate she wasn’t that into him, either – but who knows why?).

The bottom line: if he wouldn’t make the effort now, would he do it after they had been together a few years? After children came along?  I don’t think so.

Let’s not write this off as typical male thoughtlessness.  Men will go to a LOT of trouble for a woman they really want and love.  Sadly, she’s not it for him.  One day he will find a woman for whom he will get on the plane.  And this young woman will find a man who thinks she’s worth getting on the plane for.

We all know how Say Anything turned out.  Lloyd Dobler was the geeky weirdo who got the hot chick because he made her feel like the only woman in the world.   He put aside his pride, let his emotions rule, and stood outside that window with the boom box blasting a really stupid, sappy song.

Then he got on the plane.