Love that goes "ouch"

Delivered LIVE on stage at the Moth Story Slam in Denver. The theme of the evening was Love Hurts.

I met my third husband at a sushi bar in New York City on the fifth of July. It was 100 degrees outside, and yet, somehow it felt safe to eat raw fish at the tail end of a holiday weekend.

There was only one person at the bar, and I sat down next to him. His hair was silver, like the skin of a shark, and he looked so pretty from the side.

At some point between sitting down and eating off his plate, I found out that his name was Steve.

And—no kidding—that he had not only the same first name, but also the same birth day, birth month and birth year as the guy I married when I was 21.

HOLY MACKEREL, I thought. I get it now! THIS is the Steve I’m meant to swim through life with. I was 36 at the time, and I wanted a baby. Bad. So, I went all in. Deep.

Sometime around Thanksgiving, I proposed. I paid for the ring. I flushed my birth-control pills and moved into his apartment.

What could go wrong?

At this point, I should tell you, both of these Steves were Scorpios. And I’m a Cancer. And that’s a very bad match.

We’re both water signs, but Scorpios can be harsh and cruel, while Cancers are sensitive and calm. Scorpios are ragers. Cancers make peace.

Occasionally, the love match can work. But that’s only when the Cancer agrees to let the Scorpio be in charge.

But clearly, that ship already had sailed.

Before we were married, this second Steve decided he wanted to slow things down. He wanted a break—just for a month. He had an ex-wife and a seven-year-old daughter, and he wanted to be 100 percent sure about things before marrying again.

I didn’t know it at the time, but he also had an old high school sweetheart. He’d never gotten over her. Evidently, he wanted to check in.

But eventually he came back. He said we were solid.

So, we eloped. We got pregnant. And that baby I so badly wanted—he was born on his father’s birthday.

Great. Another Scorpio! Just what I need!

When that baby was 6, that Steve decided to leave me. The timing was suddenly right for him to go be with that high school sweetheart.

Sure, that breakup was awful. I was broken hearted. Pissed for a really long time. And ashamed of myself for failing yet again.

But that’s where the Dalai Lama comes in. Literally.

I was working at a university, and he was coming to campus to talk about love.

I’d always wanted to get to know my third ex-husband’s first ex-wife, so I sent her a note. I invited her to come to the event.

There were about 3,000 people there, and I was working, so I didn’t expect to even see her. But funny enough we met up. She said, I can’t believe you two split up. You were everything he wanted. He seemed so madly in love.

So, I told her how it went down:

One day, he said to me: You know all those happy times you claim to remember? Well, there weren’t all that many of them. And—they weren’t even all that happy. I married you because I couldn’t bear to disappoint you.

Suddenly the ex-wife broke down in tears. She threw her arms around me and said—I can’t believe it. He said the exact same thing to me.

So, that was a shock! And it definitely was hard to hear. But that’s when the healing began.

And my son—whose birthday is the same as his dad’s—he turned 7 and 8 and 9, and 10 and 11 and 12. And every year—on the anniversary of the happiest day of my life—my kid went off to celebrate with his father.

I hated that, but I continued to heal. He’s 19 now and away at college. For his birthday I ship him bagels to eat with his friends.

And, for so many years, I’ve been dating. But before I started, I gave myself 2 rules:

Maybe I can date a Scorpio.

But I can never go out with another Steve.