“Those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.”

My friends have accused me of wanting to start a Jewish, Orange County chapter of Mensa.  Having dated a brain surgeon, mathematician, and physicist, I’m well on my way.  But until my most recent break-up, I had failed to recognize that there was more to my choices than the obvious similarities.  Rather, I have a pattern of consistently choosing emotionally unavailable, commitment-phobic brainiacs.  I am attracted to the brainiac part, but don’t pay enough attention to the emotionally unavailable, commitment-phobic part.  In my defense, I’ve always had a thing for intelligent guys and, as a girl, when I played the “Barbie Game,” I was perfectly happy to go to the prom with Poindexter.  As a matter of fact, he was my first choice; I found Ken to be boring.

But I am not the only one who keeps repeating her mistakes.  Just as it hurts my friends to see me date men for whom “there is no there there,” I have the same reaction to my friends’ dating and relationship patterns.

One friend, claiming to want a man of character (i.e., a mensch), consistently chooses highly sought after men who, coincidentally, all drive Porsches.  That’s not to say that men who drive Porsches aren’t mensches (although they certainly differ from Prius drivers).  It’s just that I’m unable to discern anything about them that speaks to their character.  Instead, I can only go by her description of them, which is always the same.  When they are not being “insensitive” or “manipulative,” they are “generous” and “lovely.”  Although these relationships always end painfully, she appears addicted to the drama.

Another friend is trying to relive her past.  She has been divorced for three years and, not having dated for over 35 years, is intimidated by the prospect.  A few months ago, her first love found her through the Internet and reconnected with her.  They met when they were 18 and, after a year, he broke it off.  He couldn’t seem to get his life together and didn’t think that he could give her what she wanted.  Yet, even after he broke up with her, he didn’t stop calling or seeing her, until she finally met someone else. 

Now he is the one with someone else; he’s married.  Although he claims to despise his wife, whom he “had” to marry (she was pregnant), he is worried about how a divorce would affect his 12-year-old daughter.  So he stays in the marriage.  He lives in New York; she lives here.  He calls her every day and they talk for hours.  Although she has made it clear that she will not see him until he files for divorce, she lives for his phone calls. 

Then there’s my perpetually upbeat friend, who can put a positive spin on anything or any man.  The minute she meets a man, no matter how few of her criteria (as I last understood them) he fits, he’s the best thing since pre-sliced bagels.  How does she do this?  Well, it seems that her criteria are rather fluid; they change so quickly that, if I haven’t spoken to her since she’s met someone new, I’m no longer up to date on what she wants.  Whereas last year, she was looking to get married, this year, she just wants companionship.  Somehow, I can’t help but wonder whether this has anything to do with her latest boyfriend not being interested in making a commitment.  

But who am I to judge?  I’m no closer today to having what I want than I was a few years ago.  So I have made a conscious (and perhaps even an unconscious) decision to choose differently.  I’ll always have a thing for intelligent guys, and that’s okay.  But the next man with whom I become involved will not only have a high IQ, he also will have a high EI or “emotional intelligence,” defined by the psychologist Daniel Goleman as “knowing one’s emotions, managing emotions, motivating oneself, recognizing emotions in others, and handling relationships.”  And if this were the “Barbie Game,” not only would he take me to the prom, he also would “pin” me.