The Period of Spinsterhood

[Doreen Peri]

well, Lightning Rod, I'm happy that my mate was able to hook up with a fashion model and also I'm very pleased he's a rock star and movie star idol, plus the undying surrender and devotion put the cherry right on top of the sundae – each day is bliss, just as I desired and continually come to expect.

I believe in living "pure fantasy". Why bother with anything else?

[Lightning Rod]

well doreen, you are as close to the fantasy as I can imagine.

I'm lucky

you exceed my wildest dreams

rather than falling short of my expectations

(since I have none)

[hester_prynne]

I think you hit it on the nose.
Companionship.
Friends.
Self sufficient adults, sharing a celebration of being alive.
Not driven by dependency, duty, low-self-esteem, habit etc.
A choice one makes authentically.

I sure hope it isn't too late for me to have that. Companionship.
But if it is, i'm cool with it.
I really am not interested in anything less anymore and i know that for sure. Hindsight is so 20/20.
And I'm happy, very happy, as is right now.

h

[judih]

what a brilliant piece to hit on.
(have net today - happy me)

i guess i'm lucky - i met the worst and the best and found myself with amazing for the past while, but that's beside the point

ize - you put it all out there. scooby doo pjs say a mouthful.

thanks for luxuriating in your gut and sending it out in sentences.

judih

[Glorious Amok]

fashion models and movie stars? that's what magazines and television are for.

i am endlessly, unstoppably attracted to the imperfect. it's real. imperfection is achievable and i touch it, hold it, interact with it daily. it's what turns me on. if the 'perfect man' fantasy turns you on, how often do you really get turned on? i think that 'perfect' is cold, hollow, and untouchable. but imperfection is warm in unchartable, unexpected places. it holds possibility and surprise. two things which are hard to tire of.

imperfection is familiar, and reflective of myself.

my man looks .... i dunno ... real. he doesn't wear Armani suits, he wears blue jeans. and cotton t-shirts. i love the feel of cotton. the older the t-shirt is, the softer it is, and the newer a t-shirt is, the crisper it feels ... sigh... and button flies ... sigh. sometimes he wears button up shirts, and those, THOSE are manly! but i don't believe he owns a tie.

his career is incredibly important to him. he loves what he does, and it loves him in return. it evolves him. he evolves it. others evolve around him. he doesn't drink beer and the only porn i've ever seen in this house, we've made together. it's not even porn, it's art. it's up on the wall for anyone to see who comes into our home. we love it. it was, in fact, the first art we made together.

but what's most satisfying about our relationship is our intimacy. we've learned that the truth hurts less than holding out does. it's better to be dangerously close and brashly honest than it is to keep things stashed out of view. if you think it, say it. on your mind, on your mouth. i find that one truth often leads to another. i am officially more honest with him than any other person alive. i've given him every truth i can find within myself. he knows my deepest, darkest secrets. i've offered them up reluctantly at first, but willingly, if slowly. and they hurt, but we share them. i've believed each one could tear us apart. i've believed that it would be better to leave him than to share an ugly, personal truth with him. and i've left. numerous times. but then, suddenly, a truth came out. and we found ourselves back in each other's arms, the link stronger than before. each time we've gotten back together, we've gone further than before.

quality exists. just not in material objects like suits or cars. quality is human, it's under the surface, you can't see it ... only your truest self can find it. it turns invisible to all else. and it's worth digging deeply for. the deeper i dig within myself, the more quality i find there too. before you put your jeans on and go home, tell him what you feel. maybe he'll tell you what he feels too. don't wait for magic. just be yourself and talk about your scary shit. scare him. scare yourself. be more honest.

nope, more honest still.

don't try to be what Armani wants, he wants plastic. you're flesh, so be fleshy. be as real as you can. let your ripples show. let him love them. wear your tattered panties as long as they're still comfortable. don't match them to your bra. if you didn't come, say so. if you fart, admit it. just light a match and deal with it. go for breakfast with him with no makeup on. you KNOW that your value lies not on your surface, not in your clothes or makeup or the car you drive. you know it lies much deeper within you, a sacred, undousable flame. the same principle exists for him.

i burn with fear to show him the real me. i run from it. but he is a gentle wind that abolishes fear.

[izeveryboyin]

So thanks a lot!! Yay! I don't suck as bad as I thought, and am not as dissillusioned as I thought and am not as cra--- well, let me not get ahead of myself. Glad I gave ya something to mutter about!

[izeveryboyin]

Also, everyone, thank you for your demanding comments to the piece, you guys are a real riot and you are the people who make writing this shit at 3 o clock in the morning worth while. I appreciated all of the constructive criticism, compliments, agreements, and even the indifference few of you may have, but the very fact that I got any of you to think and post something towards this piece thrills me! Hoorah! Ah and yes, I am a young woman, and no, I am not a lesbian, nor do I aspire to be (wink wink) Or at the very least, not today.

[Arcadia]

It´s funny I read "springterhood" instead of "spinsterhood"...!
A ver...gray Armani suit (maybe I saw one of them in a magazine), sexy voice (I recognize this), settled carrear (sometimes yes and sometimes no), big bank account (never). Here it´s quite probably that if a man have all these caracteristics and wants to get in touch with you is from the maffia. And define maffia what you want.
But I think that even though I don´t realize at all I also have somewhere a translation for "armani suit, sexy voice...", that it´s slighty changing every time. Sometimes it´s really strange what we really love in others.
I don´t have a sexual-partner now. I can have at least two, but I prefer to share other things with the men I know and are available at the moment. I´m not in love with them and I hate complications.
(wow... it sounds like and explanation!)

[judih]

hey, now that time has passed and life has moved on, i've got something good to say about internet dating services.

my dear friend signed up a few months ago
and she's met many many cool men
and one who she flipped for.

ya get to fill out a card
ya get to post your picture
and then ya get to wait to see who wants to check ya out
and ya chat
and if ya want more, ya phone
and if ya wanna meet, ya meet

take usual safety precautions (mace, public meeting place, emergency phone numbers, etc)

she's having a good time

beats that raw cookie dough thing

(but i shouldn't knock it till i've tried it)

judih

[sooZen]

I am going to pass this on to a certain spinsterly friend who wants nothing more in this world but to find a 'love' for forever. Of course, this woman is so demanding, so in the land of needing perfect, and so dedicated to her job that the happy ending of Prince Charming may not be in the offing no matter what this dear does. Besides, she's in her fifties now but I keep telling her that hope Springs so just maybe...

We who are in long assed relationships (34 years for me and mtmynd) already know that if a mate is gonna have flaws, best dig them up and expose them to the light of compromise and conversation for perfection is an illusion. Hah!

[stilltrucking]

Bullshit. Men and women hate each other, but each gender has to put up with the other in order to maintain sexual satisfaction and social vindication.
Women are special though; we hate both genders
But women, we hate each other because we look at each other and see competition

"Yes, I hate him!" repeated Hester, more bitterly than before. "He betrayed me! He has done me worse wrong than I did him!"

Let men tremble to win the hand of woman, unless they win along with it the utmost passion of her heart! Else it may be their miserable fortune, as it was Roger Chillingworth's, when some mightier touch than their own may have awakened all her sensibilities, to be reproached even for the calm content, the marble image of happiness, which they will have imposed upon her as the warm reality. But Hester ought long ago to have done with this injustice. What did it betoken? Had seven long years, under the torture of the scarlet letter, inflicted so much of misery, and wrought out no repentance?

The emotions of that brief space, while she stood gazing after the crooked figure of old Roger Chillingworth, threw a dark light on Hester's state of mind, revealing much that she might not otherwise have acknowledged to herself."

Tinker Jack

deleted one stupid paragraph here.........