The whackiest Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had was when I was still technically married to husband number four.  I was in the midst of a divorce process, but was falling in love with a close friend.  Everything aligned for us on that V Day night a few years ago.  Even remembering it now gives me chills, but it wasn’t easy getting there.

For the proceeding year and a half, nothing about my relationship with this man crossed the boundary from “appropriate” to “inappropriate”.  We did things together, but not those things.  In fact, hooking up or being in relationship was the furthest thing from either of our minds.

We met the day his ex-wife and children moved out of their marital home, propelling him downward into a justifiable “sad bastard” phase.  Ironically I was seemingly on the upswing, having just gotten remarried (again).  

In my new marital relationship I believed fate was on my side and had delivered a truly perfect match for me.  I was eager to introduce my new friend to my new husband thinking they’d be “buds” because they shared the same backstory - long marriage, no deal breakers, ran out of steam, wife initiated (no judgement and btw she’s now a dear friend and colleague) . . . yadda yadda yadda. 

As the months wore on I was offered the opportunity to help my future honey in his professional pursuits, which included developing, writing and attempting to sell big time network TV shows.  For the first time in a long time I was back doing something I loved, with the encouragement of a person who was completely safe, benign and willing to help me, no strings attracted.

In fact, as far as friends go I was really good at encouraging him to meet, date and even hook up in order to get his sea legs back.  I even shared with him a story or two about my own not uninteresting sexual past when his new conquests had him reeling and feeling pretty low. 

It seems a bit turn-about-fair play then, that a few scant months later, after he was starting to heal through the worst phase of his life, that I began the newest, most bizarre chapter of mine.  In much the same way that I had been there for him, my future honey bore sacred witness as my new marriage came undone.  

This fast and unexpected dissolution of the fairy tale that I had been hoping to live took me by surprise.  Worse, it made me question so much about my instincts that I was afraid I could never be happy in a relationship again.  By my first wedding anniversary to husband four, it was painfully obvious there wasn’t going to be a second.  

It took another six months before the marriage officially dissolved, somewhere in the late Fall-early Winter months.  I am sure it may seem odd to some of you that I’d find myself so quickly entrenched in another budding relationship . . . and it caught me off guard too.  

What was the difference maker? For all the right reasons and for all the lack of pressure and expectation that I had put on myself to find Mr. Right in all the wrong places I was grateful to just finally BE.  I was being authentic without having an agenda or expecting an outcome in this “new” budding relationship long before it was a relationship.  

Unbeknownst to me, I had become the most impeccable, honest and happiest ME I had ever been.  Talk about the spiritual fires being lit.  Part of what gave me that freedom was the ability to dissolve into the moment, to be present in ways that I hadn’t experienced before.  Even before he became my “honey,” because of encouragement and direct connection I was able to pursue my interests, my desires and my agenda without having a man tell me it was wrong, bad timing, or not financially prudent.

They say opposites attract, but in my case, he wasn’t an opposite but a heaven sent reflector who could mirror the qualities I most wished to connect with back through his shining green eyes.   

Sure, on some level it was the glory of accessing my writing and creative self, the joy of unabashedly sitting in a spiritual setting and feeling comfortable and accepted and dare I say it, even upheld, that gave me permission to do, be and feel whatever I wanted to.  In this way my spiritually sexy side came alive in a BIG way.

Being tuned in, turned on and seduced by my own possibilities more than anything, slowly and without my being fully aware of it, activated me so that by the time the divorce had been filed I felt like I was able to not only to move on, but to come home.

So, on this Valentine’s Day let’s celebrate connection - first and foremost to our spiritual, sexy selves.  

And if love or sex, or just plain desire is knocking at your front or back door, I advocate being open and being true to your heart’s desire. 

I heartily and highly recommend that when it comes to matters of the heart we, like me, remain hopeful and willing to believe that true love can manifest in our lives when we least expect it.

Of course, I need another “ceremony” like Lady Gaga needs another dress, but I wouldn’t say no to some bling.