Tag Archives: love after 50

Vows vs. Chocolate

It happened again. I actually met a man who made me think, ya know, I could actually fall into bed with him. He was tall, with a strong, broad back, a devilish smile that exposed perfect teeth, pale green eyes and a head of long, curly salt and pepper hair. I spent the afternoon with him, assisting my friend Gabrielle with her interactive art installation, “Till Death Do You Part: Marry Yourself!” Ordinarily I would’ve enjoyed helping strangers get themselves dressed up for their wedding, blowing bubbles and tossing glitter. And for the first few hours I did. But the more I thought about it all, the more depressed I got.

A wedding. I had a wedding once. I said my vows and meant them. As I assume everyone does. Though still, 50% of marriages end in divorce. That, in and of itself, is depressing. The fact that I rarely speak to a man I stood at the altar with and promised a lifetime together is even more depressing. I was Maid of Honor at my sister’s wedding, drunken toast and all. She’s still going through her divorce. I danced at my cousin’s wedding. Ditto. So I guess about, yeah, 50% of the weddings I’ve attended ended the same way. Sad.

And though I’ve been endlessly enjoying my solitude lately, ad nauseum, the idea of marrying myself was also depressing. I don’t need to make any vows to myself. I manage to maintain a reasonable level of happiness and do a relatively admirable job of following through with many of the promises that Gabrielle has included in her “multiple choice vows.” But the frosting on the wedding cake was realizing that I was, for all intents and purposes, invisible to this handsome man. Which made me think back on my many social forays over the past few months. I put on my costumes, glue rhinestones to my face and venture forth. Not once have I met anyone new, certainly no one who’s been even vaguely interested in me. Not sexually, not romantically. And if it weren’t for the fact that I am what some might consider “connected” in the extended freak community here, no one would even be interested in me socially. No one really wants to meet women of a certain age, regardless of how interesting they may be. And I am imminently interesting!

So yes, I could’ve married myself today. Yet all I could think was “Well, no one else will want to.” Which isn’t exactly what one is supposed to be thinking when the goal is self-empowerment. Gabrielle asked me if I wanted to do it and I said yes, but I didn’t follow through. Honestly, I was afraid I’d break down and cry. A few of the women who married themselves did get choked up. As ridiculous as the situation sounds, looking yourself in the mirror and vowing to love yourself forever isn’t all that easy. Given the mood I was in, I didn’t think I’d even be able to get the words out.

And here I sit, crying over a scene in this stupid Titanic miniseries, where a man didn’t want to leave his dead wife behind. Thank heavens there’s chocolate.

Recollecting Love

The exercise to determine if my past loves had anything in common was a real eye-opener. I couldn’t believe how few memories I was able to conjure, particularly about the sex. Obviously the more recent the encounters were, the more clear the recollections. And those that were unusual in some way — location, circumstances, etc. — had a better chance of being indelibly seared onto my grey matter. Yet although it was tough accessing what the sex was like, just thinking about each of these men brought back the way I felt about them. Vividly.

I can clearly recall the particular brand of passion I felt for each individual person. In other words, while the loins may not recall the lovemaking, the heart most certainly remembers the love. In the book “On Love,” the general takeaway was that falling in love requires a certain suspension of disbelief. Among other things. Including an involuntary loss of control. Even now, I can still almost feel each loss of control that was required to fall in love with each of these men. I remember the heartaches, too. And all the songs that made me cry once I’d broken up with them. It’s bizarre how much emotion is trapped in our psyches. Perhaps it’s time for some psychic spring cleaning to make way for new emotions! (Okay, sorry. Didn’t mean to get all “om shanti” on you guys! It just felt sorta poetic…) And now, for a little listen to my musical psychic memories:

J1: Almost anything by Elton John, plus Led Zeppelin II, Ziggy Stardust and Dark Side of the Moon…
J2: Yes: Time and a Word
B: Phil Collins: Against All Odds
M: I can’t remember any for him! : ( I’m sure it was something awful and early 90s…
E: Soul Asylum: Somebody to Shove
J3: Praise Cats featuring Andrea Love: Shined On Me
J4: The Flaming Lips:  Do You Realize