Five years ago, I was broke, had no publication contract, and spent my days playing emotional whack-a-mole with challenges like the well pump dying, the state being late with my check, the kid losing her job, the truck’s spare going flat…

My consolation and coping mechanism was horses. I rode regularly, which kept me in great shape, and I had horses in my back yard, an enormous Belgian draft horse rescue and my daughter’s geriatric mare.

Hay burners need hay, right? The guys at the feed store suggested a farmer up the road had exactly what I wanted–good stuff, but not too good, and reasonably priced. It took me a few weeks to get up my courage–I am shy, by the way–but one fine day my truck turned up the lane of the hay guy’s farm.

The hay guy was not shy. He was friendly, whipcord lean, about six foot four, with blue, blue eyes, and a merry, naughty smile. He was poetry on a hay truck, too, tough as nails, beastly strong, and could do anything with his hands. And my goodness, could he tell a fine story.

At the time I had been contentedly divorced for more than ten years, and in those ten years, I had not looked at a man. I wasn’t lonely, I wasn’t looking, I wasn’t even thinking about looking.

I looked at this guy, I talked to him, I listened to him. He could toss hay bales with the precision of a major league pitcher and back a wagon to an inch with his eyes closed. He was a good listener, had a kind and open heart, and a great sense of humor. We casually mentioned getting together for lunch at the diner–I get together with various riding buddies at the diner–but I never nailed him down. Though I enjoyed every minute I spent in his company, when I moved my horses from the back yard to a stable nearby, I did not stay in touch with my hay guy.

In the intervening years, I’ve wondered: Why did I, a woman of notable particulars, turn my back on somebody who’s company I enjoy? Why didn’t I occasionally say hi as a friend? Why didn’t I drop in on one of my many trips past the farm, and explain that the horses had moved, but I’d like to stay in touch? Anything?

I’m not sure why I let the line go quiet. Maybe my intuition was working overtime, or my defense mechanisms. In any case, I let him get away, though in my mind, I owe that guy. He was a shot of happy over something as silly as buying a load of hay, he’d talked with me as old friends talk. I liked him a lot, and I’m pretty sure he liked me at a time when I was without many allies or resources.

And you know where this is heading. I recently learned that my hay guy lost the fight with cancer a few months back. Now there’s no dropping in on him, ever. No thanking him for being a bright spot in some tough years, no getting together at the diner. I’m endlessly sad for him, because he was as socialable and physically robust as a man can be, brilliant at what he did, a devoted dad and a gentleman. He should have had so many more years.

And he should have had lunch with me at the diner.

Who was the one who got away from you–friend, neighbor, coworker? Why’d you let them go? Is there somebody you should be meeting at the diner for lunch? To one commenter, I’ll send a $25 Barnes and Noble gift card or a signed copy of The Captive, your choice.

Many of us are in that stretch of the year when we’re waiting, waiting, waiting for school to be out so we can shift into summer break mode. Maybe we’re waiting for the weather to get a clue–my daughter sent me pictures of Denver covered in snow last week. Maybe we’re holding off to go on vacation until we’ve built up more leave or more savings.

I made plans last fall to travel for several weeks in Italy this spring, and then to end my journey with ten days in Scotland. I browsed websites, I googled destinations, I looked at pictures and read catalogs. I talked to people about their travels and where they’d stayed. I racked up the credit card expenses for tickets and got them paid off before my departure date–a particularly nice accomplishment.

I had great fun anticipating good food, new faces, new scenery, and some new vocabulary. Italian is a wonderful language, one usually spoken with energy and rhythm, and Italy itself boasts so much beautiful coastline, it’s a wonder there’s any population in the interior of the country.

All of this was new to me, and as it turns out, the fun of an experience, be it a vacation, a rock climb, a wedding, is only partly in the event itself. Much of the pleasure we derive from recreation lies in anticipating the fun. When you ask people who’ve planned a vacation how much they enjoyed it, and compare their answers with results from people who made a spontaneous or short-notice outing to the same destination, the planners will report having more fun.

This is true even if you give those people the exact same vacation itinerary, put them up in the same hotels at the same time of year. There really is a lot to be said for anticipation–ask any romance heroine long about page 178.

So what small or large pleasure awaits you later this year? What could you put on the calendar that you’d enjoy doing, and enjoy looking forward to? If I were to plan an author’s retreat in Scotland, what would you say I absolutely had to include to make the trip worthwhile?

To three commenters, I’ll send a signed copy of The Captive.

Last week’s discussion of triangles put me in mind of another concept, one I came across in mediation training. The topic is usually referred to as Ahab, Brutus, and Charlie, or The Three Smugglers, and it goes like this:

In the middle of a terrible storm, three smugglers wash up on the shore of a desert island, the survivors of three different shipwrecks. Ahab and Brutus are big fish in the smuggling pond, with lots of influence and connections and considerable brawn. Charlie is small fry. He doesn’t run a big smuggling operation, is fairly new to the game, and isn’t overly endowed with muscle.

The island is a hostile environment, with wild animals lurking in the brush, and nobody sure where fresh water might be, or how much of it, much less how much food might be available. How does the balance of power shake out under these circumstances?

You might think Ahab and Brutus throw Charlie to the sharks, but in a lot of replicated, controlled studies, that’s not what happens. Instead of cooperating with each other, Ahab and Brutus direct their energy into making an ally of Charlie. If they can win Charlie’s cooperation, they’ll have an ally who gives them the strength to keep the other big smuggler in line, without taking on a partner who could turn into a threat.

As a family law attorney, this is frequently the dynamic behind a custody battle. Mom and Dad fight endlessly to win Junior’s vote, leaving the outcome of a serious and complicated legal issue in the hands of a child. Mediators use this concept to direct the process whereby embattled parties can resolve their differences.

Elders have been known to manipulate or exploit their children using a Three Smugglers approach–dear granny keeps a family riot in progress from her room at the assisted living facility by doling out approval, inheritances, family history, or some other precious commodity in a manner guaranteed to divide the younger generations.

Romance authors put Ahab, Brutus, and Charlie to use in love triangles, with the heroine pursued by two fellows (or the hero by two ladies), and result is virtually NEVER that the two pursuers join forces or ride off into the sunset. The trick is to put all three characters on some sort of desert island, where emotional, financial, or logistical resources are scare enough that even a relatively weak character can tip the balance of power.

Have you seen this dynamic in action? Where a relatively “weak” individual can keep a circus going because his or her influence could tip a balance of power between others?

To one commenter, I’ll send an ARC of The Captive, my July release, and the first book in the Captive Hearts trilogy.

I enjoy this blog tremendously, not so much because I get to post each week, but because the comments make me think. Last week, Kassia’s comment about nursing prodded me to mention the Triangle of Abuse. I forget where I came across this, but it’s a simple graphic of a triangle, with Victim, Persecutor, and Rescuer at its vertices.

We’ve all been in, or witnessed, an abusive relationship. If we’re the Victim, we use up much of our energy simply enduring bad treatment, and thus have few resources left over to bring about any change. If we’re the Persecutor (assuming we’re not the psychopathic variety), we’re at the end of our rope, bellowing and blowing a gasket because nothing else seems to get anybody’s attention. If we’re the Rescuer, we’re so upset by what’s going, we jump in to try to help, because clearly, the other parties need help badly.

This triangle has two interesting aspects. First, everybody on that triangle can be trying to use their strengths: The Victim has endurance, patience, forgiveness, and maybe even hope going for him. The Persecutor is passionately attached to certain goals, can’t be pushed around, and doesn’t sit on her backside, waiting for solutions to come to her. The Rescuer has an ability to spot a problem and a willingness to help.

And yet, they’re all acting from weakness. The Victim is passive, the Persecutor is aggressive, the Rescuer can be either, or is often simply meddling in other people’s problems to distract himself from his own.

The other interesting aspect of an abusive triangle is that the positions can flip around, or at least feel like they’re flipping around. The Victim can turn into a bellowing, ranting, sulking, histrionic, manipulative virago. The Persecutor can feel so invisible, so uncared for and demonized, that her emotional landscape resembles that of a Victim. The Rescuer can start lecturing everybody about what they should, ought, must, always, never… blah, blah, and when those Judgments–I Mean, Insights–from Starfleet aren’t greeted with applause and instant compliance, the Rescuer feels ignored and taken advantage of.

These unhappy and unhealthy roles can ricochet around for years, binding families, work environments, neighbors, or church groups in an ongoing drama of misery. Sometimes the whole business is a sideshow, distracting everybody from a larger problem, but sometimes, all that’s needed to shatter the triangle is a source of empowerment. Empowerment is about managing your own needs, not manipulating others into meeting them. Honesty is a big help in this undertaking, as is courage, resilience, creativity, and clear communication.

I’ve seen situations where an unhealthy group dynamic started to turn around just because somebody consistently modeled those positive qualities. In books, the hero and heroine often empower each other rather than solve each others’ problems.

This triangle is a fascinating dynamic. The part of that jumped out at me most is how the rescuer can turn into a bully, or at least develop a controlling agenda, and then feel victimized when efforts to help seem wasted. Don’t suppose any of you have ever brushed up against this infernal triangle?

To one commenter, I’ll send a $25 Amazon gift certificate.