Yes, middle-aged men are a bit vain. A few years ago, I started seeing a newly divorced man, 13 years my senior.
While I thought we were just having a bit of fun and not planning far ahead, him being so recently divorced and all that, he was apparently already searching for wife #2. So, affter three months, he said he‘d met another woman whom he thought had more potential. Needless to say she was closer to him in age, divorced parent of two, like him. I took this all very lightly at first, trying not to seem too disappointed that our fling was over, but after a while I realised I missed him. I couldn‘t lie to myself; I really liked him.
So, after about a month, I decided to swallow my pride and went knocking on his door, almost recreating that famous scene from Notting Hill. Although I didn’t give him an expensive original painting, I did bring him a little gift and bravely admitted that I had strong feelings for him, almost begging him on my knees to give us a real chance.
He wasn’t as abrupt as Hugh Grant had been to Julia Roberts but embraced me, kissed me and cuddled and said, with tears in his eyes, that he was terribly flattered, I was a wonderful woman and he was very fond of me. But no, he couldn’t see how we could make a relationship work. Besides, he had been seeing that other woman and things were going well there. I of course needed to hear that he liked her and not me (the brutal truth is always the best medicine) but he said that ‘wasn’t really the issue’. Then I needed to know whether he liked her simply more than me and received the ambiguous answer ‘It’s not a question of that, I just think I stand a better chance with her.’ I was very annoyed. Wishy-washy gestures are intolerable when you’re trying to straighten out your, and someone else’s, feelings.
So I asked him directly whether the age difference was a factor. He said yes, that he didn’t want to be gossiped about, didn’t want his friends and collegues to think he was going through midlife crisis and laugh at him behind his back. He’d also have to consider the feelings of his two teenage sons. Obviously he didn’t realise that, to children and teenagers, anyone above the age of 25 has one foot in the grave anyways. They’d probably not see me as girly as he did when they’d finally be introduced to me, IF it would ever come to that.
I had always heard that older men dreamt of few things more than parading around with a young, pretty woman by their arm so I was struggling with disbelief. I finally asked him: ‘Would you be ashamed of me?’ and he sighed apologetically, ‘Yes.’ No wishy-washy there. Fantastic. After everything he had said about me being so mature and lovely and gorgeous and intelligent and clever and well-read and fun and talented and blahblahblah...I’d be an embarrassment to him! Vanity obviously weighed more than his so-called feelings for me. Appearances were so important to him that instead of following his heart and jump in the deep end, it was safer to settle with a more accordingly woman who would better suit the mould that his ex-wife had left. Are we talking about a text book example?
Still, my astonishment had a bit more to do with discovering that this man, whom I had been so drawn to partially because of his IQ...was in fact handicapped by vanity! I slammed the door behind me, hard.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Catch twenty-something
Maybe it’s just as well that I’m not searching for a soul mate anyway. In my case the quest would be quite hopeless; I might as well give up.
I’m in my early thirties, childless, well educated, not bad looking, can take care of myself and just don’t seem to suit any of the single men I come across.
If they’re around my age, they are usually eager to have kids – maybe not right now but sometime in the future. So when I tell them that I don’t want to have children they either get lost or give me a pat on the head, saying ‘Well, you say that now’ and wink at me. That’s when I let myself disappear. It’s like talking to the wall trying to explain to them that the odds of me changing my mind are just as high as the odds of them changing theirs. It’s no rocket science, is it?
The older men, however, who have had one or two serious relationships already, been married even and had kids, are not so keen on adding more mouths to feed and have started to enjoy the less hectic daily routine that comes when the children grow older – and only live with you part-time. Therefore they should suit me better, shouldn’t they?
But no, they are of course older and therefore think they know better than me whether I’ll change my mind about wanting to have babies or not. And because they are so much older and ‘wiser’ they never listen to my speech about the odds. So frustratingly patronising!
And even though I manage to make them consider the possibility that a woman can go without having children and still be successful and happy (name dropping Oprah Winfrey and Mother Theresa) they then can’t believe that a young, beautiful woman could possibly like them for a lengthy period. Apparently, it’s evident that I’d lose interest in a few years, they’d get older and greyer and I’d get tired of them. Yup, that’s how much self-confidence most single, middle-aged men have. And then they cannot fathom why I get offended by this reasoning of theirs! Well, thank you ever so much for considering me a brainless little bimbo!
Yes, after listening to all their praise and compliments about how intelligent and smart, clever and witty I am...deep down they just think I’m only attracted to looks and will be chasing young studs later on. They assume I’ll prefer a young, pretty-faced rogue by my side rather than an intelligent, interesting, good-natured man. Which makes me think that these men are really not as intelligent as I thought they were and the problem is solved; I make myself scarce.
The irony is of course that if I had been unfortunate enough to get accidentally impregnated long time ago, I’d have a much better chance of finding a partner now! As a single mother I’d at least have a chance at those divorced men who already have kids and don’t want any more and find some kind of assurance in having a relationship with a woman who has definitely gotten the mother instinct out of her system. Maybe they’d also think there’d be less chance of me dumping them, for safety reasons or something, not wanting to become a struggling, single mother again. What do I know?
All I know is that I’m simply in a no-win situation!
I’m in my early thirties, childless, well educated, not bad looking, can take care of myself and just don’t seem to suit any of the single men I come across.
If they’re around my age, they are usually eager to have kids – maybe not right now but sometime in the future. So when I tell them that I don’t want to have children they either get lost or give me a pat on the head, saying ‘Well, you say that now’ and wink at me. That’s when I let myself disappear. It’s like talking to the wall trying to explain to them that the odds of me changing my mind are just as high as the odds of them changing theirs. It’s no rocket science, is it?
The older men, however, who have had one or two serious relationships already, been married even and had kids, are not so keen on adding more mouths to feed and have started to enjoy the less hectic daily routine that comes when the children grow older – and only live with you part-time. Therefore they should suit me better, shouldn’t they?
But no, they are of course older and therefore think they know better than me whether I’ll change my mind about wanting to have babies or not. And because they are so much older and ‘wiser’ they never listen to my speech about the odds. So frustratingly patronising!
And even though I manage to make them consider the possibility that a woman can go without having children and still be successful and happy (name dropping Oprah Winfrey and Mother Theresa) they then can’t believe that a young, beautiful woman could possibly like them for a lengthy period. Apparently, it’s evident that I’d lose interest in a few years, they’d get older and greyer and I’d get tired of them. Yup, that’s how much self-confidence most single, middle-aged men have. And then they cannot fathom why I get offended by this reasoning of theirs! Well, thank you ever so much for considering me a brainless little bimbo!
Yes, after listening to all their praise and compliments about how intelligent and smart, clever and witty I am...deep down they just think I’m only attracted to looks and will be chasing young studs later on. They assume I’ll prefer a young, pretty-faced rogue by my side rather than an intelligent, interesting, good-natured man. Which makes me think that these men are really not as intelligent as I thought they were and the problem is solved; I make myself scarce.
The irony is of course that if I had been unfortunate enough to get accidentally impregnated long time ago, I’d have a much better chance of finding a partner now! As a single mother I’d at least have a chance at those divorced men who already have kids and don’t want any more and find some kind of assurance in having a relationship with a woman who has definitely gotten the mother instinct out of her system. Maybe they’d also think there’d be less chance of me dumping them, for safety reasons or something, not wanting to become a struggling, single mother again. What do I know?
All I know is that I’m simply in a no-win situation!
Monday, November 21, 2011
Freak Like Me
It‘s my own fault. I implied as much in my last column so here it goes: Yes, I think I can manage without having children. Ever. And be happy.
Why am I considered such a freak? I know that the mother instinct is, well, an instinct but haven‘t we oppressed most of our natural instincts anyways? Except the sex drive, thankfully. Why is it almost a sin to throw motherhood out of the window too?
I‘ve notice that we women, who dare to insinuate that we don‘t really want to have kids, either receive deadly looks or patronising oh-you-don‘t-know-what-you‘re-talking-about smiles. Still I‘ve never heard or seen anyone go bonkers when men declare that they don‘t want babies. They seem to either have it in them or not, bless ‘em! Women, however, are supposed to love kids, want to have about a million of them, love baby clothes, baby furniture, baby this and baby that. If we don‘t, we better lay low and shut entirely up about this ‘defect’ of ours.
Of course I haven’t ruled out anything and everyone has the right to change their minds. But at this point in my life I don’t plan on having any babies, ever. I’ve always liked kids though. I was always babysitting when I was young, was an Aupair and have worked at both primary and secondary schools. I always assumed I’d have kids later in life, I even remember feeling an urge for having a baby when I was around twenty. But slowly, the urge faded out, the plans changed and there were so many things that I wanted to do that I started worrying about where to squeeze in the having-a-baby part! Until one day I realised that I had no obligation to have a baby! It was a great discovery – I simply didn’t have to have kids if I didn’t want to. And after some time of serious contemplation, I found that I simply didn’t want to.
I felt such a relief after making that discovery, but didn’t dare saying anything out loud at first. Soon, however, I discovered that I was far from being alone feeling this way. I ran into other young women who, in a whispered voice, told me they felt the same and we formed sort of a secret alliance. Now we sit and give each other secret signals when some of the girls start talking about pregnancy, birth, breast feeding, sleeping routines, pot training, playschools, chicken pox, paediatricians, pacifiers etc.
We understand that this is an important part of their lives so we give them a little time for these distasteful discussions and then we start diverting the conversation towards something more interesting. If that doesn’t work we start yawning or suddenly remember that we have to go somewhere. The worst is when this happens at dinner parties. Some mothers simply don’t seem to understand that graphic descriptions of the changes in the female body during pregnancies, or action packed commentary about births can cause loss of appetite for the rest of us.
Call me a wimp, but pregnancy, birth and breastfeeding is something I find rather a revolting discussion topic over dinner. And even though I could do with shedding a few pounds, there’s no joy in starving while watching your friends chew on a juicy steak and tell you about this woman who gave birth to such a gigantic baby that she tore all the way back to her...
Why am I considered such a freak? I know that the mother instinct is, well, an instinct but haven‘t we oppressed most of our natural instincts anyways? Except the sex drive, thankfully. Why is it almost a sin to throw motherhood out of the window too?
I‘ve notice that we women, who dare to insinuate that we don‘t really want to have kids, either receive deadly looks or patronising oh-you-don‘t-know-what-you‘re-talking-about smiles. Still I‘ve never heard or seen anyone go bonkers when men declare that they don‘t want babies. They seem to either have it in them or not, bless ‘em! Women, however, are supposed to love kids, want to have about a million of them, love baby clothes, baby furniture, baby this and baby that. If we don‘t, we better lay low and shut entirely up about this ‘defect’ of ours.
Of course I haven’t ruled out anything and everyone has the right to change their minds. But at this point in my life I don’t plan on having any babies, ever. I’ve always liked kids though. I was always babysitting when I was young, was an Aupair and have worked at both primary and secondary schools. I always assumed I’d have kids later in life, I even remember feeling an urge for having a baby when I was around twenty. But slowly, the urge faded out, the plans changed and there were so many things that I wanted to do that I started worrying about where to squeeze in the having-a-baby part! Until one day I realised that I had no obligation to have a baby! It was a great discovery – I simply didn’t have to have kids if I didn’t want to. And after some time of serious contemplation, I found that I simply didn’t want to.
I felt such a relief after making that discovery, but didn’t dare saying anything out loud at first. Soon, however, I discovered that I was far from being alone feeling this way. I ran into other young women who, in a whispered voice, told me they felt the same and we formed sort of a secret alliance. Now we sit and give each other secret signals when some of the girls start talking about pregnancy, birth, breast feeding, sleeping routines, pot training, playschools, chicken pox, paediatricians, pacifiers etc.
We understand that this is an important part of their lives so we give them a little time for these distasteful discussions and then we start diverting the conversation towards something more interesting. If that doesn’t work we start yawning or suddenly remember that we have to go somewhere. The worst is when this happens at dinner parties. Some mothers simply don’t seem to understand that graphic descriptions of the changes in the female body during pregnancies, or action packed commentary about births can cause loss of appetite for the rest of us.
Call me a wimp, but pregnancy, birth and breastfeeding is something I find rather a revolting discussion topic over dinner. And even though I could do with shedding a few pounds, there’s no joy in starving while watching your friends chew on a juicy steak and tell you about this woman who gave birth to such a gigantic baby that she tore all the way back to her...
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