Saturday, October 18, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
A Heart Shaped Pendant from the Shane Company
I once asked a couple who'd been married about a year how they knew the other was 'the one'. George explained that he saw Deborah sitting two rows ahead of him in a crowded venue. As he looked at her a halo of light surrounded her. When it was "still there an hour later", he knew the universe was telling him he had found his soul mate. Fair enough. I turned to Deborah. She shrugged and said "I was 35, it was time to get married. George is a great guy so I just figured why not?"
Why not indeed. The fact that I will be 49 next month and never married seems to indicate that I would have found a reason to negate that 'why not'. My obsession with personal freedom has been one reason for my singledom. My thousand and one quirks brings the total to one thousand and two. But yes, there are other reasons. As in, you know, not-so-good men. I don’t ever want to be one of those women whose dating angst causes them to bellow “I’m going to write a book!”. I know of one leathery specimen whose man-hating rant is tentatively titled “Three Strikes and You’re Out!” Scary. I honestly do not subscribe to the belief that there are no good men. Of course there are good men out there. But…
I can think of two women I know who are in wonderful, loving relationships. Their boyfriends are smokers. That’s a deal killer for me. Another deal killer? Abject, childish silliness. This is not to be confused with a quick wit, a twisted view of the world, the ability to let go and enjoy life or other similarly wonderful qualities. It's men who try to compensate for their lack of wit with 'funny' (funny as is annoying as hell) voices. Last year I dated a man who was very nice in ways, but who left me phone messages that sounded something like this (Hear this as a 1970s game show host voice) "Hey Wendy, Iiiiiiiiiiit's NICK! Sometimes he also treated me to accompanying dreadful 70s-era sexual innuendoes. Next.
Along came, uh let’s call him Pames, who was 42 going on 12. He embarrassed me repeatedly at a dinner out with coworkers, not only by escalating his voice two octaves into a dreadful girly affectation whenever he was trying to be funny, but...well, by doing some really peculiar things as well. He recently tried to win himself back into my good graces by sending me an Instant Message beginning with "Wanna compare pay stubs from the past six months?" (His tacky way of boasting that he was doing well financially). He then went on to type a monologue so bizarre and socially inappropriate that I copied it and sent it to a friend. A wonderful friend, who responded with "Oh Wens, you deserve so much better." Indeed I do. And I'm glad my loser radar is improving, allowing me to quickly move on when it is obvious a man is not right for me. I’m happy to report that within a month I had divested myself of, er, Pames.
There have been some good men in recent years. I even loved a couple of them. One, let’s call him Schmeter, was a Nordic beekeeper type who loved to love me baby, but when asked, in a romantic cabin by the North sea, if he, you know loved me, gave me that pained, movie of the week Prince Charles to Princess Diana 'What is love?" soliloquy. This of course translates to "I know what love is, dumb ass, it's just not something I feel for you." Said aloof Nordic man is now involved with some local bee keeper-ette. Mazel Tov. The other man I loved was Dave (real name!), who actually loved me back. I wouldn’t say we were deeply in love- maybe more like love lite- but it was happy and good. We're not really in touch anymore. I was quickly replaced when I left Phoenix, but I wrote to him recently to tell him that I appreciated how good he was to me. I'm glad I did that, because he really was very kind and caring and took me on wonderful dates. He wrote a nice note back. After that it was kind of like "Ok, we were into each other at that point in time but now it's a new point in time and that's that." So it is. I’ve made peace with that.
However I'm still in the mood to be pathetic, so I'll share this: What the hell am I going to do with the rest of my life? I am honestly starting to toss around thoughts of moving to a whaling village in the Arctic Circle when I turn 60. Well, maybe the Oregon coast. Or Denmark.
I haven’t given up. I’m well aware that I haven’t always gone about my search in the most conventional ways, and until recent years I haven’t been entirely ready. But now I am So I need to become more proactive. There’s really not much more to say than that. Other than the fact that I don't require cheesey tokens of affection like heart shaped pendants from the Shane Company -although I do confess to a perverse enjoyment of their radio advertising.
Why not indeed. The fact that I will be 49 next month and never married seems to indicate that I would have found a reason to negate that 'why not'. My obsession with personal freedom has been one reason for my singledom. My thousand and one quirks brings the total to one thousand and two. But yes, there are other reasons. As in, you know, not-so-good men. I don’t ever want to be one of those women whose dating angst causes them to bellow “I’m going to write a book!”. I know of one leathery specimen whose man-hating rant is tentatively titled “Three Strikes and You’re Out!” Scary. I honestly do not subscribe to the belief that there are no good men. Of course there are good men out there. But…
I can think of two women I know who are in wonderful, loving relationships. Their boyfriends are smokers. That’s a deal killer for me. Another deal killer? Abject, childish silliness. This is not to be confused with a quick wit, a twisted view of the world, the ability to let go and enjoy life or other similarly wonderful qualities. It's men who try to compensate for their lack of wit with 'funny' (funny as is annoying as hell) voices. Last year I dated a man who was very nice in ways, but who left me phone messages that sounded something like this (Hear this as a 1970s game show host voice) "Hey Wendy, Iiiiiiiiiiit's NICK! Sometimes he also treated me to accompanying dreadful 70s-era sexual innuendoes. Next.
Along came, uh let’s call him Pames, who was 42 going on 12. He embarrassed me repeatedly at a dinner out with coworkers, not only by escalating his voice two octaves into a dreadful girly affectation whenever he was trying to be funny, but...well, by doing some really peculiar things as well. He recently tried to win himself back into my good graces by sending me an Instant Message beginning with "Wanna compare pay stubs from the past six months?" (His tacky way of boasting that he was doing well financially). He then went on to type a monologue so bizarre and socially inappropriate that I copied it and sent it to a friend. A wonderful friend, who responded with "Oh Wens, you deserve so much better." Indeed I do. And I'm glad my loser radar is improving, allowing me to quickly move on when it is obvious a man is not right for me. I’m happy to report that within a month I had divested myself of, er, Pames.
There have been some good men in recent years. I even loved a couple of them. One, let’s call him Schmeter, was a Nordic beekeeper type who loved to love me baby, but when asked, in a romantic cabin by the North sea, if he, you know loved me, gave me that pained, movie of the week Prince Charles to Princess Diana 'What is love?" soliloquy. This of course translates to "I know what love is, dumb ass, it's just not something I feel for you." Said aloof Nordic man is now involved with some local bee keeper-ette. Mazel Tov. The other man I loved was Dave (real name!), who actually loved me back. I wouldn’t say we were deeply in love- maybe more like love lite- but it was happy and good. We're not really in touch anymore. I was quickly replaced when I left Phoenix, but I wrote to him recently to tell him that I appreciated how good he was to me. I'm glad I did that, because he really was very kind and caring and took me on wonderful dates. He wrote a nice note back. After that it was kind of like "Ok, we were into each other at that point in time but now it's a new point in time and that's that." So it is. I’ve made peace with that.
However I'm still in the mood to be pathetic, so I'll share this: What the hell am I going to do with the rest of my life? I am honestly starting to toss around thoughts of moving to a whaling village in the Arctic Circle when I turn 60. Well, maybe the Oregon coast. Or Denmark.
I haven’t given up. I’m well aware that I haven’t always gone about my search in the most conventional ways, and until recent years I haven’t been entirely ready. But now I am So I need to become more proactive. There’s really not much more to say than that. Other than the fact that I don't require cheesey tokens of affection like heart shaped pendants from the Shane Company -although I do confess to a perverse enjoyment of their radio advertising.
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