Let romantic love in. This may be easy for most of us at first,

but after heartbreaks and divorces and other experiences with

love that ultimately don’t end well, allowing ourselves to fall in

love again is a difficult choice, but it is a choice. I encourage us to

try to relinquish our fears and open ourselves up to the possibility

of romantic love. I know the right person may be very difficult

to find; however, there is nothing like the feelings we experience

when we are falling in love, so try to be patient. Whether we are

seventeen or seventy, romantic love can be quite powerful.

One of my former clients, in his early sixties, shared with

me his recent experience of falling in love with one of his

former outside legal counsels. When describing his love, there

was a gleam in his eye and a smile on his face that he couldn’t

conceal—one I certainly had not seen before in the “all-business”

boardroom. With a noticeable newfound energy about him, he

described their countless dinners and drinks in the magical city

of Manhattan and numerous long runs together in Central Park.

It was a story he could hardly contain, nor did he want to.

“She just does something to me. I can’t explain it. Every time

we have to say goodbye, I’m counting down until we say hello.

Although my days are tightly scheduled, I usually find a way to

make time so I can hear her voice even if it’s just for a few minutes

during the day. We have a playlist that we share and listen to

incessantly. I think I check my phone forty times a day to see if

she’s reached out to me. In case you didn’t know, I’m crazy about

her,” he said, beaming.

I couldn’t be happier for him. It takes great courage to

overcome our fears. Previous to this newfound love, my former

client was in an unhappy marriage, trying hard to stay together

for the sake of their kids. When he and his wife decided to

divorce, it was incredibly difficult, yet they both ultimately

chose the possibility of a healthy love, relinquishing the fear of

an unknown future.

And today he is a successful entrepreneur, building an

organization with a meaningful purpose to help others in need,

and has a personal life that is deeply fulfilling, and an inner

peace that is palpable.

Simply put, romantic love can be incredibly special. It opens

us to a different kind of intimacy than the other forms of love

in our lives. The serotonin, dopamine, and oxytocin rush we get

when we see or hear from our lover has no substitute. Even if

we’ve been hurt before, let’s try not to let the fear of being hurt

deprive us of one of the most powerful emotions on earth.

I have many single friends, male and female, ranging from

their early thirties to late sixties. Several of them speak to how

happy they are being single and say they do not need a partner

to make them happy. I believe this to be true. They are happy

and many are quite fulfilled. Yet, sometimes we don’t know what

we don’t know; perhaps we could feel even more fulfilled with a

romantic love in our lives.

Regardless of our age, falling in love is magical. Again, we

are meant to be physically and emotionally connected to one

another; it’s part of the essence of life, a powerful and primary

biological instinct not to be denied.

COURAGE TO LET THE WRONG

ONE GO

A month before I met my husband Mark in 1998, I felt like giving up on

men. I had just graduated with my doctorate in clinical psychology

and had been in a relationship with a man named Doug, a

handsome, sandy-blond-haired entrepreneur from California,

for a little over a year. He was smart, creative, innovative, edgy,

and driven to be financially successful. All the things I thought

I wanted in a partner, in my more egocentric, materialistic, and

image-conscious years.

Doug had arranged an elaborate graduation party for me at

my boss, Kevin’s, exquisite loft in downtown Denver. Kevin was

out of the country and graciously offered up his home to me for

the celebration. My father, mother, Debbie, and Cal had flown

in for the event.

Approximately fifty people—friends, classmates, family—

mingled with champagne flutes in hand on the open floor plan

of Kevin’s magnificent loft adorned with ancient Asian relics,

Oriental rugs on wood floors, and exposed brick walls.

“Excuse me, everyone, I’d like to make a toast,” Doug said,

as he clinked his champagne flute with a spoon until he had the

party’s full attention. My father’s eyes rolled ever so slightly—

subtle, but enough that I noticed.

A few weeks prior, Doug had brought up to me the idea

of getting married. I had some reservations. Doug had gotten

married several years before to a woman to help her gain her

citizenship. Being a traditional woman, this struck me as sort of

unusual, but my father was beside himself when I told him about

the marriage. “Immoral,” he called it, to get married to anyone

for any reason other than love.

Doug was also into appearances. Material things were

important to him—not a trait my father found endearing, and one

that was becoming more and more unsettling to me. My father

thought Doug was rather shallow, and he believed I deserved

better. And down deep, I believed this too; I just wasn’t quite ready

to have that hard, emotional conversation with him. But I knew in

my soul I’d ultimately have the courage to let him go. I had been

proposed to once before and also knew it wasn’t quite right given

my young age of twenty-four at the time, and the need and desire

to find myself. I was grateful to be able to trust that same feeling

of knowingness years later with Doug.

Clink, clink, clink went the glass, and Doug began.

“I’ll be short and sweet,” Doug said. “Thanks for being here

tonight to celebrate my special girlfriend’s major accomplishment:

earning her doctorate in clinical psychology. She’s worked

incredibly hard, and I am extremely proud of her. Not only is she

smart and beautiful, but she’s mine, hopefully for a very, very long

time. Cheers to Dr. Kathryn Bowker. I love you.”

Doug beamed with his bright Californian smile as the guests

applauded.

My dad cleared his throat, standing in the back of the room,

all eyes on him now.

“You took the words from me, Doug. She is an amazing

woman, and I am proud to call her my daughter. But, Doug, I

wouldn’t be so bold as to think you two are a fait accompli,” he

added in his monotone voice and walked away from the crowd

onto the terrace for some fresh air.

There were some gasps as the guests tried to determine

whether my father was serious or not, but within minutes the

cacophony continued with the infectious buzz of the evening.

People who knew me knew my father was a no-nonsense sort of

guy, with a dry sense of humor. However, Doug could not let it go.

“I am so embarrassed. Was your dad being serious?” Doug

asked me, his light-blue eyes wide with anger.

“Yes, I am afraid he was. That’s him—never afraid to speak

his mind at inappropriate times with a tad of dry humor mixed

in to keep everyone guessing.”

“I’m going to confront him. He can’t make me look like an

ass in front of all these people.”

“Doug, don’t,” I pled. “He’ll come around. Confronting him

now is not going to help.” But Doug was already making his way

to the terrace, where my father and brother were enjoying a

martini alongside the terrace railing.

“Mr. Bowker,” Doug blurted out, inches from his face, “what

was that all about? Did you really mean what you said in there?”

“Yes, Doug, I did,” my father replied matter-of-factly, taking

a few steps back from my angry boyfriend. “One thing you didn’t

mention about my daughter is that she is discriminating and

wise in her decisions on most things, particularly men. She’s

what I call a special; I wouldn’t claim her as yours quite yet.”

Doug lurched toward my father as if to strike him. Fortunately,

Cal was able to get between them before it came to blows. “Back

off, man,” Cal said.

“Yes, Doug,” I said from behind them, “please leave.”

Doug spun around, aghast. He opened his mouth to say

something, and I dissolved into tears.

Thankfully, he left, and I broke up with him the next day.

Given how enraged he got, it confirmed to me that Doug cared

most about his image, not my father, and certainly not me.

Sometimes, choosing love means having the courage to let

someone go in order to find that special love.

By Kathryn E. Haber, PsyD and author of Amazon’s #1 New Release, Fear Less, Love More: What to Do When the Unexpected Happens, 5 Daily Choices