Wednesday 31 August 2011

Cat Food and Sad Movies



I find it interesting being a single woman who has just reached her 40s.  Apparently it's all cat food and sad movies for the rest of my life.  When I meet married couples for the first time, it's invariably the woman who susses out my relationship status. Then she, for the most part, (there are some rare exceptions) falls into two categories.


The first category is  'The Women Who Pity'.  These women treat me like I'm some bizarre failure for not being in relationship.  I'm quizzed on my past relationships, current dating habits and future goals for finding a husband so I can be a whole person.  Silly me for thinking I already am.


The Second Category is 'The Women Who Run'.  This is generally the wife who immediately grabs her husband and finds an excuse to no longer talk to me.   Clearly, all I'm waiting for is for the wife to leave the husband in front of the dip plate to make my move.  




Oh yeah, that's right - I'm not.


Most people find it weird that I'm happy being single.  So much so, that I've actually stopped saying it.  I'm either not believed or treated like a bra-burning, extreme, man-hating feminist.  Let me set you straight on that.  I'm not a liar and I don't hate men. So, in a scenario which is quite different from a famous scene in Sex and the City where Miranda comes clean with the simple statement that she's not seeing anybody, I say something else.  I say it would be a wonderful favour if people would keep an eye out for someone suitable.  This charade has the added bonus of letting the insecure wives know I'm not after their husbands and makes 'The Women Who Pity' feel useful.  Possibly one day, it may even have the bonus of helping me to actually meet someone suitable, but as yet, no luck.


Now here's the killer: I would like to be in a relationship.  But that doesn't mean I'm unhappy being single.  I'm not.  There's so much to love about my life and how it is now. So I'm not about to settle for something less than amazing.  There are a lot of theories out there that say I shouldn't wait for Mr Perfect but instead find Mr Acceptable and settle down into something nice and comfortable.  I disagree.That's how I ended up divorced in the first place. Now  I'm not looking for some movie version of perfect romance.  It's just that I have a really great life and I don't see any reason to bring someone that doesn't fit, into that life, just to make others feel more comfortable.   Being single does not equate to being a failure.


You see, I have a job that I truly adore.  I work with people that I admire, respect and enjoy working with.  I actually hate being sick, because I enjoy going to work!  I have an amazing family that I see once a week for family dinner which is filled with stimulating discussions, silly arguments and great food.  I have two great kids that keep me young, teach me, push me, pull me, challenge me and keep me laughing.  I have inspiring friends who support and uplift me.  I have a hobby which takes me out of the house twice a week and keeps me fit. I volunteer in the arts which emotionally and spiritually fills me up.  I have so much love and laughter in my life, at work, at home and at play that when I do find love, (yes I believe it's a when not an if) it will find the right slot and be one more facet of an already uplifting, interesting, fun, giving and amazing life. Wouldn't Oprah be proud?


I’ve been told to go on line and join a dating website. No.  I've been there, done that.  Never again.  I'm sure there are some genuinely nice people on it seeking love, but I didn't have any luck.  More than that, I discovered that I am much more old fashioned and organic than that.  I don't think it's how I'll find someone to love. But to those who do, I wish you the best.  It's just not for me and I'm a firm believer in each to his own. So bless and thumbs up to those for whom it has worked.  Besides I've tried describing my "perfect" partner in one paragraph and at the end it reads like my perfect man is really a gay man, who can talk footy and f*ck women.  I think he's a cross between Kurt and Puck from Glee, with a dash of David from Moonlighting. They're a dime a dozen, aren't they?


My eldest kid is currently learning about stereotypes at school and is busy writing expositions about how stereotypes can damage the society we live in.  I've had to bite my tongue and let him find his own examples.  Although, at times I feel I have neon lights above my head saying 'SINGLE WOMAN IN HER 40S! WATCH OUT! DESPERATION IN PROGRESS!'   It seems that society needs to see me that way in order to feel more comfortable.  After all, each of us has role to play. Apparently.


But if you don't mind I might put off the cat food and sad movies for a few years yet.  I know that my boobs are getting saggier, my arse is definitely closer to the ground than it was 15 years ago, my hangovers seem twice as bad as they used to and I find myself listening to more talkback radio, (the day I talk back it's over) but I don't think I'm ready for the scrap heap just yet.  Being single is just a tiny aspect of my life.  


I'm sure one day a fella's gonna wander into my life, (somehow, someway, lets not stress about the details) we'll bond over our strange love of Sci-Fi and Scrabble and our intense dislike of Naked Gun movies and gardening, find out we can live with each other’s imperfections, love and laugh in the bedroom and decide to give the romance thing a whirl.   But if he doesn't, I still won't resort to becoming crazy cat lady or Miss Havisham. 


I'm pretty sure for the rest of my life I'm going to be an interesting person who leads an interesting life.  Why?  It's because I love learning.  I love challenging myself.  The good thing about me?  I don’t sit around whining about how bored I am.  I get off the couch and find something to do and I can't see that changing anytime soon.


Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to watch Twilight and eat clinkers on the couch, in my jammies, under my snuggie, with my exfoliating apricot face mask, that is if I can kick the cat....er dog off the couch.