As I skipped from table to
table at the bar mitzvah luncheon last weekend, I felt a novel emotion.
Although I wasn’t paired up like my friends who were attending the same
celebration, I lacked any sense of third
wheel.
I felt no envy, no mad desire
to be coupled, simply a feeling of being comfortable enough to chat with
strangers who were seat companions, in the buffet line, and anyone who caught
my interest.
This was a very different
experience than my previous episode of singleness. After my divorce from my
first husband, and before my marriage to Tommy, I relished my freedom for a
bit, but then wanted desperately to be paired up. I hated being the gal left at
the ballroom table to keep an eye on purses while couples danced. I yearned for
a man on my arm, so I would better fit in with my married friends.
The Chicago Reader was the
match.com of its day and I found several men to date. In the auditions, I was
impartial. Fellows who I would’ve ignored if I weren’t so nauseatingly needy,
would get at least one date.
Of course, that was 23 years
ago and I have grown up since then. And although I have, on these pages,
admitted eyeing men at the gym, I just don’t have the same pathetic ache, which
I attribute to several factors:
*I really enjoy the studio apartment I have chosen to
replace our home. Although only 615-square feet, at my petite size, it feels
like a perfect fit. There is no space for a roommate and his stuff.
· *At bedtime, I use a pillow as a stand-in for my late
husband. In spoon position, I tell him my day’s activities. While this lacks an
audible response from my proxy, I can easily imagine his voice and sweet
goodnight. Schmaltzy as this sounds, it totally lulls me to sleep.
*During the luncheon I described in my opening paragraph, I
witnessed several friends who were either full-blown caretakers of their
spouses, or were struggling with the impending role. Their plights reminded me
of the last years of Tommy’s life when I was an around-the-clock caregiver. I
have to selfishly admit, I am not eager to reenlist for the job, which, at my
age, is a real possibility.
· *Except for a few long-time friends, most of my crowd is
single. If I want companionship, a phone call, e-mail, or text message can
usually find me a delightful sidekick. And this pal is likely to be agreeable
to my choice of event or menu.
· *Although I no longer own a car, I have learned how to
travel throughout the city and suburbs via public transportation. For example,
here’s how I got to the aforementioned Skokie bar mitzvah: I caught the Brown
Line at the Merchandise Mart, exited at Kedzie, took the #93 Foster bus to
Dempster, and then the #250 Pace bus to Central Park. Okay, it was 90 minutes
door-to-door, but I had a window seat and a scenic adventure.
· *My waking and sleeping schedule would likely deter any
potential swain. And I’m reluctant to adjust my body clock just to be part of a
couple. I suspect that a single man seeking a girlfriend would want his female
companion to remain awake throughout a movie or play, erect on a dance floor, and
conscious for a goodnight kiss.
· * I love television. No, I mean I REALLY LOVE
television. My favorite evening activity – prior to falling asleep on the couch
– is to watch favored episodes on HBO, Showtime, or Netflix. This viewing is
typically accompanied by feet propped on my coffee table, an ice cream dish in
my paws, and a sigh of solo satisfaction. Would a guy find this alluring? Would
I be forced to share my Edy’s Slow Churned Butter Pecan?
· *I won’t change my appearance or wardrobe to hook a
guy. In my earlier single stage, I wore 3-inch heels, clothing I deemed
alluring, and shopped at Victoria’s Secret for the “just in case” dates. Now, I
refuse to dye my grey hair, get Botox or plastic surgery, or don anything that
doesn’t stretch.
Having said all of the above,
if you, dear reader, were to identify a divorced or widowed male, in my age
group, who still drives – better yet, at night – I might be persuaded to shift
some of my reasoning. For there are
times when a ride in the passenger seat, with a sweet, bright, funny guy at the
wheel does sound tempting.