Oh No! I Think I Pissed Off Gayle King!

Damn.  I think I pissed Gayle off.  That was not my intention.  And I probably didn't actually piss her off; I don't matter enough to her to be able to do that, but I do think I gave her a WTF moment.   Here's what happened.  I was writing a post for this blog and The Gayle King Show was on my TV in the background.   She seems "regular": really nice and fun and likeable and, at that moment I thought: "I bet she'd like my blog".   Gayle is not a Spinster because she has been married and has children, but she has been single for awhile and seems to really enjoy her life.  That makes her Spinsterlicious (minus the ex-husband and kids part).

So, here's how technology and all these ways of communicating with people can get you in trouble (and by "you" I really mean "me").   I went to her website looking for a way to send a quick note saying something like "Hey, Gayle:  I think you're great.  I have a blog about 'being single and not fretting about it',  I think you might enjoy it.  Here's the link."  

Problem is, there was no way to do that.  Her website only lists Facebook and Twitter as ways to contact her.   Facebook didn't seem right.   It seemed way too public and a little cheesy.   I don't know why I didn't think the same about Twitter...but I didn't, so I used that, instead.   The thing about tweeting is that you only get 140 characters to say what you need to say, so it's a ridiculous way to introduce a point that needs explaining and I don't know why that didn't occur to me until after the fact.

I tweeted Gayle and sent the link to this blog and said something awkward about being Spinsterlicious.  I thought she'd see it, click on the link to see what the heck I was talking about and then would respond that she'd read it and enjoyed it.  That didn't happen.  Because tweets are truncated thoughts, that's also the way we receive them.  They're skimmed, not read carefully.  Apparently, all she saw was "Spinster" and probably thought "WTF?".   But because she is too nice to tweet that, she responded, instead: "Spinster"?? Huh??"   

My entire point had been lost and now she was annoyed.  So I responded trying to explain what I meant, but you can't really explain much in 140 characters so I didn't really improve the situation.  She didn't respond back, probably deciding that I am a nut, and maybe even blocked all further tweets from me.  And here I was just trying to share my blog with what I thought was a like-minded sister.  

For me, this is an example of how the 24/7 all-news-all-the-time blurring of celebrity tales and real news led me to think that I should contact a stranger and speak to her as if we are pals.  I'm a little embarrassed, so I'm going to leave her alone.  However, if you see Gayle, please tell her I meant no harm and am really quite nice..and mostly sane...and I still think she might enjoy my blog.



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The Blessing That is a Curse

I look a lot younger than my age.  I feel I do but, more importantly, lots of other people feel I do and they tell me so all the time.  Now, one thing I've noticed is that everybody tells a woman over 40 that she looks younger than her age...even when she doesn't.  It's kind of a requirement.  In my case, though, it's really true.  And why am I so sure? For a couple of reasons.


Reason 1.  
Last year, when I was job-hunting, I kept tripping up my prospective employers as they tried to reconcile the dates and my job experience with my "youthful appearance".  (I put that in quotes because I feel kinda silly saying that, although it's true).   A few headhunters even told me to take some of the older dates off my resume because I work in an industry that's not too friendly to women-of-a-certain age, and they felt I would open myself up to many more opportunities that way because I looked young enough to pull it off.   And they were right.   I got lots of interviews, many of which I know I wouldn't have gotten had they known my real age.  Looking younger than my age was a real blessing.

 
Reason 2. 
I keep meeting men who are really interested in me, and they demonstrate it in all the familiar ways men show that they're interested: the look in their eyes, the smile in their voice, the efforts they make to get and keep my attention.  That is, until they find out how old I am.  Then they can't run away fast enough.  Yes, of course, there are lots of guys who like older women and they're usually younger.  Much younger.  A little younger, say, 10 years,  is nice, but I don't particularly like dating guys who are way younger than I am.  (See Younger Men ).  

I happen to like men my own age.  They just don't like me so much.  They start out liking me and then they get all stupid on me because apparently dating a grown woman is a problem for them.  This would be pretty amazing if it weren't myself that I'm talking about:

• I had a great time with Kevin (not his real name) for about 6 months, hanging out several times a week doing all kinds of fun things all over New York City.  Then he found out my age and freaked out.  By the look on his face, you would have thought I'd told him I had a syphilis, not that I was the same age as he was.  He thought I was about 15 years younger.  About a week later, he cut me off.  Said he might want to have a kid; not right now, but someday so he needed to be with a woman who had enough child-bearing years left to produce for him in the future.  I'd never heard him mention wanting a kid before.

• Something similar happened the following year.  Different guy, same reaction to my age...again, even after he'd known me for awhile.  After that, I started telling guys my age on the first or second date.  If my age matters to him, he should know sooner rather than later.  No need in wasting his time.  Mine, either.

• Shortly thereafter, I met a guy at a restaurant while waiting for my friends.  My friends were late, so he and I spent 30-45 minutes talking.  He had already expressed interest in seeing me again, when he made an awkward comment about his own age.  He wondered if I would mind going out with an older man.  Obviously he was having his own issues.  Poppa was having difficulty accepting his own age and apparently thought a younger woman could help with his self-deception.  But as it turns out, I was older than he was.  He wasn't even cool about it.  He abruptly paid the bar bill and scrammed.

Now, when I meet a guy, I tell him my age almost immediately.  It's just easier.  If he has age issues --about mine or his own-- he'll have to work that out somewhere else.  I can't be bothered.

Who'da thunk looking young would be a bad thing?  Insecure men, that's who.



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SY-Guy: Spinsterlicious Man of the Month!

 My good friend, who calls himself SY Guy, makes a good living as a Strategic Planner in the communications business and he has, apparently, learned to be pretty strategic in his love life, as well.  Here's why I say this... in his own words:

Why I Appreciate Woman-Drama (The SY-Guy View)

She told her friend on the phone how so-and-so in the office was not carrying his weight.  It’s really upsetting her.  This guy has been a thorn in her side for months. On the phone she seemed to tell her the same story three times.  I can only imagine there were different nuggets of information or insight in each telling. I can only imagine each telling got a different response from the friend on the other end of the phone.  But I don’t know.  As a guy, things are black-and-white.  Not much nuance.  I report to someone on the phone what happened, and the buddy on the other end says, “He’s an idiot. [Pause]  “How ‘bout the Cub pitching staff this year?”

But I have come to appreciate woman-drama.  It gives color to my otherwise black-and-white world.  It brings me closer to the woman in my world.  And it gives me usefulness...
 

Women think guys don’t express their feelings well.  That’s no doubt true.  But part of the reason for that: we don’t have feelings to express.  Obviously I’m exaggerating and generalizing, a dangerous combination.  We do have feelings, of course.  But they are infrequent and rarely strong ones, unless someone has crossed us – somehow challenged our honor or masculinity or safety.  Otherwise we go through our day thinking fairly rationally about things.  So I enjoy living vicariously through the women in my life who have emotions.  Reds, greens and yellows in my otherwise black-and-white world.

And then when I was 45 I learned the power of “I’m sorry” – no, not as an apology to someone I wronged, but as woman-code for “I understand.” in response to something upsetting in their lives.  So now, when facing drama in my GF’s life I say, “I’m sorry.”  She responds, “It’s ok.”  And I get credit for being understanding, which helps us feel more intimate and that deepens our relationship.

And woman-drama helps me feel useful.  By being understanding (“I’m sorry”) but more importantly unfazed, I am helping her cope, by being calm, steady and clear-minded about what to do next.  At least I think she finds this useful.  I better ask…

Hmmm. I'm not sure if he's being strategic...or he's just really smart.  What do you think?


 
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Love in the Time of Texts

I love texting.   I'm not sure somebody my age is supposed to love texting, if I judge it by the number of my comrades who I hear complaining about it.   To me, they sound a lot like the stereotypical codger who complained about those new-fangled horseless carriages, and whatever names they had for other emerging technology: the telephone, tv, music cds, email.   They certainly have the right to try to ignore what's new(ish), but I always wonder "what are you afraid of"?   In every situation, we have the right to choose how much to engage with any technology...though completely resisting it can sometimes leave you left out. 

Whatever.  Back to why I love texting.  Especially when I'm dating.

(1)  Texting is fun.  It's flirty.  Sometimes sexy.  It's a tidbit of surprise in the midst of what might be an ordinarily fairly mundane moment.  An unexpected text from a cute boy is a delight.   "Hey beautiful".*   "Can't wait to see you tonight".   "I want to wake up with you, sit with you at the breakfast table and look out the window sipping coffee".   "You have a beautiful face and luscious lips".   "Good nite, pretty".   "U tickle my imagination".   They always make me smile.  Sometimes blush.   I don't always care if they're even true.  They're fun. Some of these guys somehow find a way to be slightly more expressive via text than they can ever muster live. 
 .
(2)  Texting is efficient.  It's a really good and quick way to communicate some much-needed information.  "I'll be there in 10".  "Here's the address...".  "What's your dress size?"  "Where are you?"   You give/get the necessary info much faster and much less intrusively than with  a phone call.  I can answer a text when I'm in a meeting, in the doctor's waiting room, or in a restaurant waiting for the other party.  Times when I'm less likely to answer or make a phone call.


(3)  Texting is a really good barometer of how the relationship is going.  See, texting is bad if it's your primary form of communication.  When it becomes a substitute for real conversation, it's time for me to pack my virtual bags.  I'm not even talking about break-up texts;  that relationship is already kaput.  I'm talking about two almost-relationships I had when the guys texted me a few times a day but couldn't seem to be able to pick up the phone to call me.  An easy and early sign to bail.  Interestingly, one guy didn't seem to understand why that was an issue.  Another reason to leave: he was obtuse.

And in the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit that I, too, have used texting as a proxy...as a distancing measure.  When I'm kinda half-in-half-out, but haven't quite completely moved on I find myself sending more texts and making fewer calls.  Guilty.

As with all technology, it's not the medium...it's us.

*All examples of texts in this post are texts I've actually received.

 
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Married on Facebook

This past Sunday, the New York Times ran an  article on the way people manage their relationship status on Facebook, including what it means when they update their status from, say,  single to married back to single to "it's complicated, and back again.

According to them, "Facebook is a world unto itself with more than a half-billion residents, each asked to report a 'relationship status.'   By the end of last year, almost 37 million people had changed their status to married, while nearly 44 million changed their status to single, this according to data Facebook released last month.  These statistics bring to the fore a larger question: Why do so many Facebook users agree to announce their romantic entanglements?"

Why, indeed?   Of all the things I share on Facebook, my relationship status is never one of them.  No one needs to be able to track the progress (or lack of) in my relationships...especially since I can barely do it myself and it's my relationship.  I always feel slightly embarrassed for people when their status changes to "single".   Not because being single is bad (it's not), but because there's been a breakup and those usually aren't fun, and now it's public, which I would think makes it even less fun.   I sometimes have to constrain myself from posting "what happened" on their Wall.   I know it's none of my business...but it is Facebook and none of the stuff on there is my business.

I have a friend whose status was "in a relationship" for years, which was true technically, though he was actually married.  I didn't really have to ask why he did that, but I did wonder to myself what his wife thought of it.

I think people who post their relationship status should also post a Part Two: "it's good" -or- "it sucks".  That would make it much more interesting.  What about you?  Do you post it on Facebook when your relationship changes?



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I Think I'm Jealous of Snooki

 Heaven help me: Snooki’s winning.  

That crazy-like-a-fox hoochie on MTV’s The Jersey Shore—in an ironic and super unfair twist of fate—has what I want.   No, not a ridiculous and embarrassing TV show, but lots of other things.

I feel like I’ve done all of the things a responsible adult should do (well, many of them, anyway):  I graduated from college (twice), manage to keep a job, take good care of myself physically and financially, and don’t really bother anybody.  Snooki gets drunk every day, pees outside, fights, and gets arrested for disorderly conduct.  What’s more, I know all of this without having ever watched a single episode of the show.  She’s so famous that her escapades are news and part of popular culture.  She’s everywhere.   Barbara Walters even chose her and her castmates for her list of 2010 Most Fascinating People.

I don’t care about the famous part.  Here’s what’s making me just a little crazy.  Snooki “wrote” a book and it made the New York Times Best Seller List!   This, from a woman who claims never to have read a book.  And this makes me crazy because I, too, have written a book.  A book that, I’m told by many people, is insightful and funny and unique.  Some of these people are in the publishing business; they “love the concept” but just don’t quite know what to do with it (how about publish it, for goodness sake?!)  Snooki’s book?   They know what to do with that.  And that’s the problem.  Noise has become more important than content.

And here’s the other reason I’m jealous of Snooki.  Her outrageouness earned her a million dollars last year.  I’ve been working since I was 15 and I earn a good living, but I’m tired.   I’m ready to sleep in and work a few less hours.  Actually a lot less hours.  Part-time is what I’m aiming for.  However, I can’t afford to live on half my salary.  But if I, like Snooki, earned $1 million last year, I could afford to live on my part-time salary.  But I didn’t earn close to that.  I never used to care about what other people earned, but dear Snooki’s seven-figure salary is starting to bother me.  I don’t want to get drunk every day (or pee outside) like Snooki.  I just want to do less, like Snooki, and still get paid.

The world is upside down.  Being loud and obnoxious and stupid is paying a lot more now than it used to.  And don’t even get me started on those dim-witted Real Housewives series.  I would have thought grown women would know better. Apparently not. And it hasn’t hurt them.

(Sigh.)


This and other fun posts are also available at  Women's Voices for Change


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Asha's Getting Married!

My friend, Asha, got engaged over the New Year's holiday and I'm pretty excited about it.  Not excited in a "Oooh, she got a man and now's gonna have a big ole wedding" kinda of way, but more in a "this is great...a well thought-out, grown-up decision" kind of way.   She might still have a big ole wedding, but not a frivolous one because she's not the frivolous type.   Two weeks after the engagement, she walked past Kleinfeld's bridal shop, saw a dress she loved in the window and bought it!  Just like that.  That's the dress she's getting married in.  I love that.

I also love that Asha's not a kid.  It's been my experience that my friends who married later in life married really well because  it seems each got the man she was supposed to have...not some fantasy she made up in her head.  These later-in-life marriages seem to be truly the “ ‘til death do us part” type, whereas many weddings I’ve attended for those who are younger seem like more of the “let’s cross our fingers” type.

Generally, I think of weddings as mostly boring.  It’s kind of like watching the same play over and over and over, just with different actors.  I go to weddings because I care about at least one of the people getting married, but I’m usually also trying to figure out a way to spend the least amount of time there as is appropriate. 

But it’s a little different when my middle-aged friends get married:  the wedding is still a bit boring, but I’m happier for them.  They had all managed to build pretty nice lives for themselves while single, so they weren’t getting married because they needed help getting set on life’s path.  Their new spouses were chosen for all the ways they could enhance their lives, not because they were needed to help construct the life. 

And that's true for Asha.  She's got a nice life now and I imagine it'll only get better.  There is one little problem though.  When my friends get married, it makes more work for me.  It is good for me to have a multitude of people I enjoy and who I can call on to socialize with in any number of ways, and I’ll soon by minus one.  Once she has a husband, she probably won't have the time nor inclination to come out and play with me in the same way as often as I would like.  If I call her up and say “meet me in an hour for a drink”, the answer is likely to be some version of “no”.  Even worse, I think she may even have the audacity to move to another city with this new husband.  So I'll have to plan our outings with a little more forethought.

Oh, well.  Many thanks to my single friends for remaining in the Sisterhood with me! (You know who you are). I need someone to come out and play with me. 

 
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There is No Debate

What does Charlee-- marketing communications whiz and long-time friend-- think of all this single vs. married talk?  Well...I'll let her tell you:

In Charlee's words:

Ok, I understand it.  I have often indulged in it.  I've probably heard every angle and

argument for both sides of the issue.  So it should be no surprise when I say that I am officially tired of the debate -- "Which is better, being married or single"?

The truth is that there are wonderful things about both...and downright messed up things as well.  Yet, single women want to be married, while married women mourn their days of single freedom.  Married women are accused by singles of being boring, insecure, or lost inside their husbands' or children's lives.   Single women are often characterized as man-stealing, desperate, and unfulfilled by their married counterparts.  So here's my question:  Why must we always pine for "the other side of the fence", or conversely, hate on those who occupy the terrain over there?

I grew up with three sisters, nine aunts, and a bunch of great friends.  Some married, some single.   Some were happy, some not.  I belong to a woman's social organization, am active at my church, and have a young adult daughter whose friends are constantly seeking advice from a "woman of a certain age".  Trust me, the discussion rages across all ages and walks of life --"Which is better..."?

I've spent a lifetime bonding with these various sisterhoods and we've shared (and

continue to share) many stories of love and betrayal.  And throughout these discourses what strikes me most is our honesty and boldness, our ability to make each other laugh when any one feels down, and our unhesitating willingness to impart strength when it is most needed.

If we can do this for each other, why can't we do it for ourselves?  Instead, we spend hours longing for what we don't have.  Hours not necessarily wasted, but perhaps misappropriated.  I say not necessarily waster because through it all, here is what I have come to know.  We each are unique individuals who possess the power to choose what

focus our life energies on.  Instead of bemoaning what could-have-would-have-should-have-didn’t-or-never will-happen, we have the ability to embrace the beauty and wonder of what is. We are who we are, right now. We can thoroughly enjoy this moment, this experience, and this journey.  And we can be at peace with it all—simply by choosing to.  When we truly embrace who we are, there is no debate.

Well, what do you think?  What's the debate really about...that is, if there is a debate!  Is there a debate?

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