Frayed Feisty Threads - Book IV

Martha Stewart and the Irishman 1/17/98

It is amazing to me that at 47, the morning after the night before now stretches into the day after the night before. Getting the caffeine high out of my system and the smoke out of my hair and clothes is a relatively simple process. Assuaging my restless heart is entirely another matter.

Socializing with an "on-my-way-to-getting-drunk" insurance salesman was not exactly what I had planned for the evening. I thought I would get lost in the rowdy crowd and simply wile away some time playing trivia. God knows that I did not look the 'girl at the bar' type in pants, boots, and a heavy sweater. Along with the hair that was spilling onto my shoulders in an uncontrollable array, some sense of my workweek tiredness was surely evident.

Yet, there he was, this red-haired, blue-eyed Irishman with his talent for stories and drama, working his way aside me and asking how to play trivia. He talked; I laughed. Isn't that the way with men? Especially those that are drinking something other than Pepsi.

I guess I could say it was an interesting way to spend an evening. And that's all I can say. I know that I should get out and about more, practice some fake social skills, try to meet some people…..and then, well, who knows?

The "who knows?" part motivated my glib response to Dan this morning. How can you be part of someone's world when you have never met him? How can I tell him that I gained 15 pounds and probably a dress size too. I can't; he has to see for himself. And he thinks he is in love with me….from a distance. A safe distance, to be sure.

How can I tell him there is no future with me? He has his fantasy, and it is sustains him in his most intimate moments in a relationship that he believes is loveless, and stale.

Where are the men who are happy and satisfied in life? Married…..happily married. Enjoying their families and their friends and living life to the fullest. Certainly not on the Internet or in a bar. And just when you think you may have found such a man he falls for someone else or is still looking for greener pastures.

How different is this from the adolescent angst my baby boomer generation struggled against? The stakes are higher now……money, power, AIDS, families, cancer, there is a life obstacle around every corner. And none of us believe anymore that we can change the world - nor do we care to try.

I frantically buy every anti-aging product on the market, challenge my mind and read TIME faithfully, hoping to cruise into midlife with dignity, knowledge, at least one professional suit and a pair of dance shoes for good measure (just in case). If the theory of osmosis has any merit, all the exercise programs that I have watched should have melted me down to nothing by now. I'll be svelte and beautiful - when he finds me.

It's a picture, all right. Oh, not Martha Stewart perfect, but nevertheless a picture of how I think he should see me.

The trouble with pictures is that perception belongs to the viewer, not the creator….a concept that Martha Stewart marketed and the Irishman stumbled across last night, each offering their own version of "Beauty is strictly in the eyes of the beholder."

Ah, Martha….he hardly knew ye!

tuc 01/17/98