So you’re fifty-ish and suddenly single. After an appropriate time, you decide to put yourself out there again, hoping to find love, companionship, sex…or any combination of those things. It’s stressful, you’re a little down and a long married sister friend is concerned. But you’re not sure how to articulate the modern age paradigm of being alone, to a woman who’s been married 35 years. So I thought I would share my conversation.
“I’m worried about you,” Kay said.
I dipped my face into a balloon wine glass and sipped Pinot Grigio. “Why?” I fingered my hair, stalling. I really didn’t want to talk about this.
“You don’t laugh the way you used to. I miss hearing that.”
I forced a giggle, hoping to please her, or tease her, or get her to retreat.
“What was that?” she said, her blue eyes questioning. “I’ve known you 25 years and never heard you make a sound like that.”
I looked everywhere around me, but not at her. The floors were wooden and warped from humid Florida air repeatedly moving over and through it. The mirror behind the bar filtered our images through a salty film. My eyes intently followed a waiter, wishing his tray laden with dirty dishes would plummet; the ensuing crash would rescue me, I was sure.
“Jacquie” she persisted. “It almost seems as though you’re losing your confidence.”
A cackle blew through my lips and exploded into the bar unassisted. My laugh is like that; bold, head turning, incendiary. “Internet dating will do that to a person,” I told her.
A damp breeze touched her golden hair, moving it and setting it back in place.
“It’s a numbers game,” I muttered. “They say even a blind squirrel finds an acorn once in a while.”
Her mouth curved in pity. “And that’s so not you. Oh, I can’t imagine how hard…” her voice trailed.
Note to self…next project…invent pity repellant.
I tilted the glass, feeling the opposite rim touch my forehead as I sucked down the few remaining drops of wine. “It’s about ‘atta girl’ sex,” I explained. “It’s not about having someone to pay the bills, or putter around the house fixing things, or be there if I’m sick. For me it’s about having a really good day….when I feel like I’ve written my best work yet, or helped some kid in court by being his guardian ad litem, and then going home to an empty house.” I raised my glass to the bartender, suggesting another round.
Kay’s head jerked up and her eyes widened. “I’ve been married 35 years and never thought of that. But I actually do still have ‘atta girl’ sex!” She sounded so pleased to be enlightened. “So that’s why you’ve been down?”
“Pretty much sums it up,” I replied as the bartender set glasses brimming with wine in front of us.
Kay laughed and lifted her glass in toast. “Thanks…now I finally understand.”
It was when she reached over and squeezed my hand, still laughing; that I knew she realized the deeper meaning.
So, if you try, you can push pity more towards empathy. But just in case, I’m going to think more about that pity repellant……………
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