I am in the process of interviewing prospective roommates. One girl—attractive blond, 29, German accent—is looking for a new home because her current roommate is 60-years-old, never-been-married, political and miserable. The girl laments the possibility of not meeting a decent man to marry in Los Angeles. (There are 5 million men in Los Angeles but if we knock out the white-haired, the married, and the handicap we are probably left with about 1 million, of which 1% is the marrying kind of man.) At 29 her anxiety is palpable—I don’t want to be 60 years old and miserable like my roommate because I don’t have a husband, she says.
Honey, I said, you can get married tomorrow, divorced at 55, and be miserable at 60 even if you do find a man to marry…or you could stay married and be suicidal.
Oh how often have I been in her shoes. Expectant that my life was to be lived with man. At this point, however, man never even factors into the equation. I do not think of a life lived with man, I do not dream of getting married, I do not fantasize that things will be different if there were a man to come home to. I am not sad about this…perhaps a bit dull, but not sad. And I realize, it’s because I feel like I’m done…it’s over for me…there will NEVER BE another man. And that’s okay. To reiterate: This does not make me sad. I have accepted the fact graciously.
I am not feeling sorry for myself. There are many potential suitors I could be with, but there are none that I’d like to entertain. They bore me. Their faces aren’t right. Their smiles don’t make me want to smile in return. Instead of slipping someone on and wearing them like an itchy old Disney costume, I am walking down the path to spinsterhood willingly and lovingly.
I walk beside my dynamic, gorgeous spinster sisters. We have Coco Chanel, Diane Keaton, Oprah, Jane Austen, Mother Teresa—if I keep it up I can be a saint, a fashion icon and a literary genius all in one!
There is really no need for men anymore. Unless they add something to your life. And it’s rare that they do. But still, we have women of all ages everywhere lamenting singledom. Waiting for the jolt of romance to save them. Wait…hold the phone…
…Oh my…maybe that’s it?! Maybe I’ve been electrocuted so many times by romance that I freeze up, afraid to make or accept a move for fear of getting shocked! Or maybe I’m just cynical, unable to believe in the tender verses of a love song. Chances are I’m realistic. Just listen to people…really listen to the way they talk to each other and of each other and you’ll be realistic too.
All that smack talk aside, if the right guy came along, with the right face, an entertaining personality and an edible smile, then I’d be up for a shock or two. So…who’s ready to try and zap me now?