Daily Archives: February 18, 2015


I no longer have regular TV. Meaning I don’t have cable or network television. I can’t just flip on the box and watch whatever is on. Which means I’ve joined the legions of Netflix binge-watchers. I’ve gone through every available episode of Orange is the New Black, House of Cards and Mad Men. I’ve finished the complete Breaking Bad. Soooo good! I’m as caught up as I can be on Downton Abbey and Walking Dead and sat through the first two seasons (do they even call them that anymore?) of American Horror. My current obsession is Sons of Anarchy. I watch at least two or three episodes a day. Er, night.

SPOILER ALERT! If you have any intention of watching SOA, stop reading now!

Two nights ago I watched “Laying Pipe,” in which the Opie character is killed off. I wept. This could, of course, be attributed to my current state of mind. And heart. But apparently it struck other viewers as equally sad. The show’s producer, Kurt Sutter, was questioned about this plot twist and explained himself here. Even the actors were profoundly upset by the character’s death. If you haven’t watched the show and have no intention to, I’ll tell ya: they kill people off at a pretty quick clip. Like one person episode. Or every few minutes. It’s bloody fucking brutal.

It also has a Shakespearean beauty. Even while the characters are hurtling toward their presumably violent ends, their passion is riveting. The passion, for me, became even more riveting when Jimmy Smits joins the cast in Season 5. Waking up after a drunken one-night stand, Gemma pulls a gun on “Nero Padilla”  as he’s coming out of the bathroom. Their subsequent conversation — and sober reacquaintance — had me hanging on every word. He’s running an escort service and when Gemma questions his interest in her while surrounded by “young pussy” (or something to that effect), he says, “I prefer a patina on my precious metals.” Gulp. So good. As my friend Sandra wondered, where are all the guys like that on OKCupid?

I’ve complained before about 50-something men not only wanting 30-something women but getting them. I guess if a guy is fit and financially solvent, why shouldn’t he be fucking a trophy chick? Most women over 50 not only can’t hold the interest of 30-something men but wouldn’t want to. We want a patina on our precious metals as well. Of course, we can do without the 100 extra pounds and bald pate. Just as much as men can do without saggy breasts, I suppose. Who likes to be reminded of their mortality? Talk about a turn-off…

I see “older” couples and marvel at how much older the women look than the men. And am I being “ageist?” How is this possible? Is it that when people are coupled, the women age faster? Care less about their appearance? In the world of being single and “older,” the dynamic is decidedly different. The women — myself included — do everything they can to maintain their youth. At least within their means. I’d be in South America getting a facelift in a New York minute if I could afford it. Actually, an everything lift would be pretty great! We hit the gym and wear clothes that highlight our assets. No “mom” jeans. I don’t know anyone who has succumbed to their grey hair, coupled or single. 

We drag our asses out to as many social situations as we can stomach. We smile and nod, shake hands and listen intently to the nervous, let-me-impress-you ramblings of strangers like virginal schoolgirls. All in the hopes of a second date. Or being asked out on a first one. Sigh. If only Kurt Sutter could write me into his next show. I may fantasize about Opie but I’d gladly accept the patina of Jimmy Smits!