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It's The Beard
"A healthy, loving relationship can enhance many aspects of your life, from your emotional and mental well-being to your physical health and overall happiness. For many of us, though, finding someone we want to share our lives with can seem like an impossible task. But don't despair, even if you have a history of relationships that don't last or if you feel burned out by traditional and online dating, you can still learn how to find lasting love."
Sheila examined herself in the full-length mirror as she listened to Dr. Irene Michaels, marriage and relationship counselor, introduce today's topic of her radio show, "How to Find Lasting Love." Here it was, Saturday night and Sheila was home alone with nothing more exciting planned than listening to Metropolis' self-proclaimed "love guru" yatter on about love, life, and relationships.
"Life as a single person offers many rewards, including learning how to build a healthy relationship with yourself. However, if you're ready to share your life with someone and want to build a lasting, worthwhile relationship, life as a single person can also be very frustrating."
Sheila twisted and turned, positioning herself one way and then the next to see every inch of her body. At thirty-five, Sheila Valentine knew she was still an attractive woman. Though not especially tall or voluptuous, she'd filled out in all the right places and was proud of her three times a week fitness center physique. At five feet five, her arms and abs showed no signs of flab and her strawberry blonde hair was natural, shiny, and as lovely as it had been when she was a girl of twenty. Still, she was a mature woman of thirty-five now. Sheila's birthday a week past. And in five more years, she would be the dreaded four zero.
Sheila shuddered, tempted to turn away from the woman staring back at her in the mirror.
"Finding the right romantic partner is often a difficult journey, for several reasons. Perhaps you grew up in a household where there was no role model of a solid, healthy relationship and you doubt that such a thing even exists. Or maybe your dating history consists only of short, abrupt relationships where you or your partner gets bored too soon, and you don't know how to make a relationship last. You could be attracted to the wrong type of person or keep making the same bad choices over and over, due to an unresolved issue from your past. It's also possible you're not putting yourself in the best environments to meet the right person, or that when you do, you don't feel confident enough to approach someone. Whatever the case may be, it's important to believe that a healthy romantic relationship for you exists in the future."
Sheila was ready, past ready, to find the right man. Sure, she'd had her share of relationships over the years. Even a few serious ones, especially with Brad. They'd dated for three years, and Sheila just knew he would pop the big M question. But things between them hadn't worked out the way Sheila hoped they would. Even now, a year later, she still couldn't say for sure what had turned their relationship from hot to not.
Sheila shrugged, so tired of replaying that failed relationship in her head. She and Brad had moved on. Or rather Brad had moved on. As for Sheila, she had yet to get back into the dating game again. So afraid of being hurt and disappointed, she'd basically cut herself off.
"It's also important to recognize that relationships are never perfect and always require lots of work, compromise, and a willingness to resolve conflict in a positive way. To find and build any relationship worth keeping, you may need to start by re-assessing some of your misconceptions about dating and relationships that can prevent you from finding lasting love."
Sheila plopped on her bed. Dr. Michaels was right. Relationships weren't perfect, and they did require a helluva lot of work. But maybe Sheila was trying to find too much of what she wanted in one guy. Maybe, heaven forbid, her standards were too high. Or worse, as the saying went, she was looking for the right guy in all the wrong places.
Well, Sheila didn't know if that was actually a saying, but it really should be. Maybe Mr. Right was right under her nose. Sheila began to laugh, loud, snorts and all. God, her neighbor had just popped into her mind. For two months, Sheila hadn't seen hide nor hair of him. Then one day, poof, he was back.
And damn, was he back. Sexy black beard and all. Sheila sat up, thinking about how masculine and virile her neighbor had suddenly seemed, sporting a scruffy beard and tousled bed look. Definitely yum material. He hadn't looked that good before, Sheila recalled, getting to her feet and going to her bedroom closet.
Swinging the doors open, she began to scan her wardrobe for the right outfit. One that was sexy without being slutty and neighborly without being obvious.
Clark Kent, not exactly Sheila's normal type, was a forgettable kind of guy. A nice guy who didn't stand out in the crowd, despite his more than six-foot frame and undeniably broad shoulders. Sweet, unassuming, and polite, that was Clark Kent. Not that she knew the man well. Sheila didn't. All she really knew about him came from observations and polite conversations with him in the hallway and on the elevator.
Sure, they may have lived across the hall from each other for the past six months, but they weren't exactly friends. But, thank goodness, they were on friendly terms. Which, as Sheila pulled out a metallic-flecked dress, complete with a bold deep V-neckline and back cutouts, brought a smile to her full lips.
Clark Kent might just fit the bill. He could be her Mr. Right. If nothing else, he could be her Mr. Right Now, helping Sheila get back into the game. Sheila's smile grew. "How Stella Got Her Groove Back." She laughed, tossing the dress on the bed and then sashaying to the adjoining bathroom for a shower. "Now that was a movie. Sexy older woman and an even sexier younger man. I'm definitely older than Clark Kent, but not so much that it should be a problem."
At least Sheila hoped it wouldn't be a problem for him. What Sheila refused to think about was the possibility that Clark Kent had someone in his life. Drowning those thoughts under the spray of hot water, Sheila didn't allow negativity to douse her flame of hope. Clark Kent could be the guy, would be the guy. She would find out tonight, test the waters and see if the man with the new sexy beard would take the bait or let it pass him by.
Thirty minutes later, Sheila stood in front of her mirror again, critically assessing her appearance. She always liked the way the dress fit her, hugging her curves in a sensual but classy way. And the silver strapped heels added a nice bit of lift. Her hair fell in straight lines to her shoulders, framing a pretty face with the barest highlight of make-up to bring out her green eyes. The key to wearing make-up, Sheila had learned from her mother, was to apply just enough to enhance one's natural beauty, not to overwhelm.
"When we start looking for a long-term partner or enter into a romantic relationship, many of us do so with a predetermined set of expectations—such as how the person should look and behave, how the relationship should progress, and the roles each partner should fulfill. These expectations may be based on your family history, influence of your peer group, your past experiences, or even ideals portrayed in movies and TV shows. However, retaining many of these unrealistic expectations can make any potential partner seem inadequate and any new relationship feel disappointing."
Dr. Michaels' show, a two-hour special, wouldn't conclude for another half hour. Sheila contemplated waiting that long before going across the hall. But Clark Kent was such an elusive guy. The man, as far as Sheila knew, didn't keep normal hours. Hell, she wasn't even sure if he was at home. All of her feminine primping could be for nothing.
Still, something inside Sheila told her now was the right time. And really, what did she have to lose? They were neighbors after all, if she didn't catch him tonight there was always tomorrow or the day after. Eventually, they would be in the same place at the same time.
She was a woman, and he was most definitely a man. Both single. Well, Sheila didn't know for sure whether Clark Kent was single.
"The first step to finding a suitable partner is to distinguish between what you want and what you need in a partner. Wants are negotiable, needs are not. Wants include the things you think you'd like in a partner, including occupation, intellect, and physical attributes such as height, weight, and hair color. Even if certain traits may appear to be crucially important to you at first, over time you'll often find that you've been needlessly limiting your choices. For example, it may be more important, or at least as important, to find someone who is curious rather than extremely intelligent. Curious people tend to grow smarter over time, while those who are bright may languish intellectually if they lack curiosity. Sensual rather than sexy. Caring rather than beautiful or handsome. A little mysterious rather than glamorous. Humorous rather than wealthy. From a family with similar values to yours, rather than someone from a specific ethnic or social background."
Vaguely, Sheila recalled seeing Clark escort a tall, dark-haired woman into his apartment a time or two. Maybe more. Sheila had only seen the woman from behind, which wasn't enough to go on now that Sheila thought about the potential of a rival for Clark Kent's affections. But no, she was positive she hadn't seen the tall brunette in the last month or so.
"After disappearing for two months, the woman probably dumped him," Sheila told herself, not at all convinced of her words. Still, if Clark Kent did have a girlfriend, they couldn't be serious. Women liked to stake their claim on a guy, which meant showing her face at his apartment as often as possible. Clark Kent may be a "fixer upper," as Sheila's mother would call him, but there was something about the man. Something indefinable and strangely alluring.
"Needs are different than wants in that needs are those things that matter to you most, such as values, ambitions, or goals in life. These are probably not the things you can find out about a person by eyeing them on the street, reading their profile on a dating site, or sharing a quick cocktail at a bar before last call."
Sheila turned off the radio, took one last look at herself in the mirror, and then made her way out of her bedroom. A minute later, with butterflies in her stomach, she stood in front of Clark Kent's apartment door.
She mentally ran through what she would say to him, if he were home when she knocked. She could play coy she suppose, and borrow something as lame as sugar or milk. She could also play the damsel in distress role and ask him to come to her apartment and fix something that wasn't broken. Or she could simply wear her big girl panties, act like the mature woman she was and ask the guy out.
She knocked. Waited.
No answer.
She knocked again. Waited.
And again
No answer.
Then, because she was feeling stubborn and stupid for getting her hopes up, Sheila knocked a fourth time.
No answer.
Disappointed, she turned away, thinking she could probably catch the rest of Dr. Michaels' show after all.
When she was halfway across the hall, the door behind her opened, followed by a masculine voice. "Sorry I took so long getting to the door. I was in the middle of something and didn't want to lose my train of thought."
Sheila turned.
And there, in the threshold of his doorway, stood a rumpled Clark Kent. Red T-shirt, low ride blue jeans, and bare feet. More, blue, blue eyes stared down at her, not concealed by the glasses he normally wore. And, for the love of all that was sexy and merciful, the man still sported that delicious beard of his.
Sheila thought she would fall at his feet and offer herself up as his personal sex slave. Damn, how had she not noticed until recently how utterly swoon-worthy Clark Kent was? And that beard. God, the urge to run her fingers through it and down to those six-pack abs the tight shirt emphasized had Sheila giving Clark her highest wattage smile and stepping closer to him.
"I interrupted you, I'm sorry."
Clark ran one of his big hands through his luscious midnight hair. "It's fine. I'm nearly done with the piece. I've been working on it for the last couple of hours."
That's right, Clark Kent was a reporter, blogger, or something like that. Sheila thought she may have read something written by him in the Daily Planet.
"Anyway, did you need something, Ms. Valentine?"
"Sheila." She stepped closer. "You can call me Sheila."
He smiled, then nodded. "All right, Sheila. Did you need something?"
Clark Kent had no idea how much she needed, how much she wanted.
Him.
Right now.
His apartment or hers, it didn't matter. Clark Kent could definitely be Sheila's Mr. Right.
"I realized tonight that, although we live so close and are on friendly terms, we don't really know each other."
"Umm, well, I guess that's true." Clark glanced inside his apartment before moving into the hallway and closing the door behind him.
And the man was even larger now that he stood in front of Sheila. More handsome too. Damn but he was a blessing, and she'd been a fool to not have noticed him before.
"I was thinking," she began, craning her head upward to meet his piercing blue eyes, "that it would be nice to get to know my neighbors better."
He said nothing, just continued to stare down at her.
Okay, well, he obviously wasn't going to make this easier on her by catching a clue and asking her out.
"Well, since we are already on good speaking terms, I thought I could begin with you. Maybe coffee or lunch. We could talk, get to know each other better."
Clark looked back at his apartment door, a bit of anxiety creeping into his eyes. But he said nothing when he turned back to Sheila. So she plowed on, knowing if she didn't get it all out now she wouldn't be this brave again.
"Look, Clark, I just thought it would be nice if we got to know each other in a more informal setting. You seem like a really nice guy. And, if you got to know me, you'd find out that I'm a nice woman. Someone worthy of knowing." Of dating, she said to herself, not brave enough to speak the words aloud.
For the second time, Clark glanced back at his apartment door, body tense. When he turned to Sheila this time, he spoke. His words a husky whisper. "You're asking me out? On a date?"
Well, wasn't he Mr. Blunt. But Clark putting it out there was a bit of a relief. The man clearly understood what Sheila was getting at, although she wasn't at all good at making the first move. Normally, she waited for the male to make his interest in her plain. But Clark Kent was different. Oblivious in a way few men, except the truly arrogant, were.
"We don't have to put a label on it, Clark. Like I said, I would like to get to know you better."
Sheila watched him carefully, searching for signs of interests, of flattery, hell, of disgust. She saw nothing in the eyes that stared back at her. No, no, that wasn't true. Sheila saw kindness in the depths of Clark Kent's gaze.
Then it was Sheila who looked over Clark's shoulder and to the closed apartment door. She shook her head. "I didn't interrupt your writing, did I?"
"No." A softly spoken confession.
"She's in there, isn't she? The tall brunette?"
"Yes, her name's Diana."
"And she's your girlfriend?"
Clark beamed, all white teeth and sparkling blue eyes. And Sheila knew she'd never seen a man smile at her like that before. More, no man had ever smiled like that while speaking of her, with such love and devotion. Which was why Sheila was no longer with Brad or any of the other guys she'd dated.
"She's Diana," Clark repeated, as if her name summed up all that he'd felt about the woman.
Hell, for all Sheila knew, it did.
Sheila found herself looking back at Clark's closed apartment door. "I didn't know you had someone special." A partial truth. She'd hoped the woman she'd seen him with was no longer in the picture. Or, at the very least, that she and Clark weren't serious. But the way he all but moaned his girlfriend's name, Clark couldn't be more serious about the woman on the other side of the closed door.
"It was nice of you to want to get to know your neighbors." He scratched his jaw, appearing uncomfortable with the entire situation.
Sheila didn't blame him. She wanted to curl into a ball of embarrassment and hide. Clark Kent was Mr. Right, just not her Mr. Right. The tall, dark-haired woman had already claimed the nice guy's heart. And Sheila, the undisputed loser, hadn't even seen the woman's face. If nothing else, the perverse part of her at least wanted to see the face of the woman who'd snagged the bearded sex god that was Clark Kent.
But Clark's door remained closed. No tall, dark-haired woman came to the door in search of her missing lover.
Sheila sighed. Tonight had been a bust. If nothing else, she'd proved to herself that she was ready to give love another try. Seeing Clark Kent's fool-in-love grin bolstered her heart, her hope. She knew what she wanted. A man to smile at me with his heart in his eyes.
She cleared her throat. "Well, I'll be going now. Do me a favor, Clark. Keep my humiliation between the two of us."
Unsurprisingly, the man glanced back at his door, then winced.
Which made no sense to Sheila. The apartment door was made of solid oak. Even if his girlfriend had her ear pressed to the other side of the door, no way could she hear their conversation. Still, Clark acted as if his girlfriend was some wonder woman with superhuman hearing. The thought was ridiculous. Clark irrationally paranoid.
He ran his hand through that sexy beard of his again. Damn but his girlfriend was one lucky woman.
Clark made no promise, but he did stay in the hallway until Sheila was safely in her apartment. Yup, a real nice guy who belonged to someone else.
Once back in her apartment, Sheila did a facer on her bed after turning her radio on.
"As I close out tonight's show, let me give my faithful listeners a few tips for handling rejection when dating and looking for love. Tip one, don't take it personally. Tip two, don't dwell on it, but learn from the experience. Don't beat yourself up over any mistakes you think you made. By dealing with rejection in a healthy way it can increase your strength and resilience. Tip three, acknowledge your feelings. It's often normal to feel a little hurt, resentful, disappointed, or even sad when faced with rejection. It's important to acknowledge your feelings without trying to suppress them. If you practice mindfulness, you'll find that staying in touch with your feelings helps you quickly move on from negative experiences."
Sheila didn't hear what else Dr. Irene Michaels said, because she clicked off the radio, undressed, and called it a night.
By the next morning, Sheila Valentine was feeling refreshed and ready to begin her day. Thoughts of a bearded Clark Kent, his rejection, and his mystery girlfriend, all but forgotten. Today was a new day, and there were plenty of nice guys in Metropolis. And Sheila would find hers, preferably with a sexy black beard she could run her fingers through.
Briefcase in one hand and a thermos of steaming coffee in the other, Sheila struggled to lock the door to her apartment without dropping everything.
"Here, let me help you with that." Long fingers reached out and plucked the briefcase and thermos out of Sheila's hands, making it much easier to wrestle with her door.
Grateful, Sheila turned around, prepared to thank the kind person who'd saved her morning. Her eyes traveled upward, way upward, to meet eyes even bluer than Clark's. And those big, blue fathomless eyes were staring down at Sheila with a kindness that, once again, reminded her of Clark Kent.
And, damn the world was so unfair. Tall, dark-haired, and strikingly beautiful. Sheila could only stare at the woman.
And stare.
And stare.
And stare.
Dimly, Sheila became aware that her mouth hung open and she hadn't uttered a word to the woman. To, if Sheila's guess was correct, Clark's Diana.
"Are you all right?" the woman who could be a runway model asked. No, she may have been tall, but she damn sure wasn't skinny. In fact, Diana was dressed in a pleated Jersey sheath dress the color of dusk. The cocktail dress not only showed off her lush curves and long, shapely legs, but revealed to whomever might be up at seven in the morning that she'd just spent the night with her lover and was now on her way home.
Unlike Sheila's tail-between-her-legs retreat last night, this woman exuded confidence. No walk of shame for her.
Taking a deep breath, Sheila gathered her wits and managed to say, "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for the assist."
"No problem. I often wish I had a third hand. It would make multitasking so much easier if I did." With an earnest smile, the woman handed Sheila her briefcase and thermos.
Yup, just as sweet and sincere as Clark. No wonder he loved the woman. Then again, she was goddess gorgeous. What red-blooded American male wouldn't fall head over heels in love with a woman like that?
Sheila sighed. "Are you on your way out? We could ride down together."
"That would be nice. Just give me a minute to lock up." Turning, the woman pulled out a key ring from her purse. Putting the key in the lock, she locked Clark Kent's apartment.
Diana, Clark's girlfriend, had a key to his apartment. How could two people be so close and Sheila barely see them together. It made no sense to her. But here Diana stood, with a key to Clark's apartment and a fading love bite on her neck.
Sheila glanced down at the key ring Diana held in her hand. And smiled. "You're a Superman fan?"
"What? Oh, this." Diana shrugged. "I suppose. He's a hero. And who doesn't like a hero?"
They began to walk down the hall and toward the elevator.
Sheila felt extremely uncomfortable. Here she was, talking amiably to a woman whose boyfriend she nearly propositioned last night. And she wasn't even sure if Clark had told Diana she'd asked him out. From the kind way Diana treated her, Sheila guessed he hadn't. Either that or Diana was so sure of herself and her place in Clark's heart that jealousy was a mere eight-letter word to her.
They settled onto the elevator and began their descent. Once to the lobby floor, they exited the elevator, having shared pleasant chit chat on the way down.
Once on the street, Sheila hailed a taxi. Beside her, looking skyward, was Diana.
"This is me," she said when a taxi pulled up to the curb in front of her. "Nice meeting you, Diana."
"Nice meeting you, as well."
Sheila climbed into the taxi, thermos in her hand, briefcase on the seat beside her. And she swore, once in the cab, she heard Diana mutter, "It's the beard. Women can't resist a bearded Clark."
But when she looked out the taxi window, ready to apologize to Diana for hitting on her man, the sidewalk was empty.
Diana was gone. And a breeze blew Sheila's hair in her face.
She leaned against the cushion of the taxi, emotionally drained, although her workday had just begun. Sheila gave the driver the address to her office building and watched the scenery pass her by as he drove.
Never knowing, thousands of feet in the air, Wonder Woman was smiling down at her. "It's the beard. Women can't resist a bearded Superman or Clark Kent. I know I can't."
THE END