The Roaring Twenties

Well, who wouldn't want to live in this Marvelous Age???

Spinsters in the New Economy

I've been job-hunting for four months.  I can hardly believe it.  I am working part-time and I actually enjoy my part-time gig.  Unfortunately, I have full-time bills.  And anyway, I suspect I only like it because I breeze in for a four or five hour shift and feel like I head home almost as soon as I get there, taking no burden of  responsibility home with me.  For the job search, I've tried everything.  Turned over every rock, exhausted every networking contact and I am still, for the most part, unemployed.

I've already gone through all of the stages of loss: Denial, Bargaining, Anger, Despair and now, Acceptance.  I'm so beyond feeling sorry for myself and wasting energy on hating my old boss.  I still do, I just don't think about it anymore.  A month ago, I felt like the world was on my shoulders.  I couldn't sleep for all the worrying I was doing.  Unfortunately, I could eat.  And then I would get mad at myself for eating my feelings because it's a lot harder to get a job if you don't look gorgeous.  Isn't that sad?  I think so.  An unfortunate truth.

Two weeks ago I had a call from an old contact wondering if I'd be interested in a new opportunity in her field.  I would!  I was ecstatic!  She emailed the desired skill-set to me; I was a perfect fit.  I interviewed the very next day.  It all went so smoothly, I could tell I was completely nailing the interview and it turned out the interviewer (my would-be-boss) is connected to my very best former boss ever.  So, I knew the amazing reference would seal the deal.  After a two-hour interview, I was exhausted but went home on cloud nine, positive that the universe is balanced and everything always works out in the end.  Or does it?

My old boss called me later that afternoon, all excited, and told me about the spectacular reference she gave me, that the new boss was so enthusiastic about me, and that she was sure they'd be making me an offer before the end of business that day.  She said at the very least, she'd be shocked if I didn't hear something by the next day.  I thought so, too!  I had sent my "thank you" emails the minute I got home and late that afternoon received the "Your reference was awesome, I enjoyed talking with you, let's talk salary" email and thought it was really going to happen.  Well, I heard nothing else that day, or the next, or the next, or the next.  And then it was the weekend, so I waited until Monday.  Nothing.

So Monday afternoon I called, had to leave a message on voicemail and followed up with an email.  I got a response the next day "I need to connect with so-and-so to discuss next steps, sorry for the delay", etc.  Not a total brush-off, but not exactly encouraging, either.  I had a bad feeling that this person, though a VP and incredibly successful, may not be comfortable having uncomfortable discussions.  It could be any number of things: they're not creating the position after all, my salary request was too high, they're interviewing other candidates, or maybe they really do think I'm great and I'm just antsy because I've been out of work for a third of a year.  Whatever the reason, it's been two weeks and I still don't know whether or not I have the job that they really needed to start last Monday.

I wanted this job sooo bad.  I was so excited about the opportunity and my mind was churning with all sorts of creative ideas for it.  Maybe I'll get lucky and it'll come through after all, but I've really done everything I can do and it's in Lady Luck's hands now.  Unfortunately, she just doesn't like me very much.  My little brother got all of the luck in the family.  I am the girl that nothing ever works out for and I have finally come to accept that.  I have a pretty good day here and there, but I need to temper my expectations a bit.  I want life to be vibrant and exciting and my career to be challenging and rewarding.  I think instead of hoping and wishing that things will be super awesome, I should expect them to be just okay.  That way, when they are super awesome, I'll take notice but when things are just okay, I won't feel so disillusioned.

Oh, but how badly I wanted it to work out this time!

Independence Day for the Single Gal

I had one of the best holidays today.   I turned down every invitation to attend  pool parties, the Peachtree Road Race, a local parade and various fireworks displays around town.

Instead, I slept in a little, made an enormous pot of coffee, had farmers-market fresh blueberries with my yogurt this morning, watched a few historic gems on The History Channel, made a flower arrangement and when I was sure it was going to remain sunny all day, I packed a beachy tote with all the poolside necessities and walked to my neighborhood pool which was blissfully devoid of neighbors with kids.

The appreciation for the day is never lost on me, considering what a history buff I am, and today especially so as it was my first Independence Day that I didn't have to work in about five years.    I spent the day in the sun with my Kindle and then returned home, bronzed and relaxed, to make a very July 4th-appropriate dinner.  Grilled chicken, salad, corn on the cob and (unsweet) iced tea.  Just like the barbecues we used to have by my grandparents' pool when I was a kid, minus the deviled eggs, potato salad, baked beans and the apple pie.  Oh, I miss apple pie.  I'm watching my starches - the corn was a splurge.  Incidentally, "unsweet" is the correct way to say you'd like your iced tea without sugar in the South.  We do know that "unsweetened" is grammatically correct but lobbing off a syllable or two is what keeps us cool in the summer heat - talking too much and too fast has a cumulative negative effect on your body heat; it's not scientifically proven but it's a known fact.  And you never have to specify "iced" either, we rarely take it any other way.  That would be silly.

I live close enough to downtown Atlanta that I could hear the fireworks going off as I watched them on TV.  So I got to enjoy the display without the crowds and traffic.  Honestly, the only thing that would have made today better would be real surf and a few palm trees, but the pool and hot pink crepe myrtles that line it were just fine by me.

Happy Birthday, I Guess

My 35th birthday was Friday.  It went largely uncelebrated though I joked to a friend that there would be a parade, pony rides and face-painting.  Hey, a girl can dream.  I just can't kick this funk I've been in, though I've certainly faked my way through it with friends, co-workers and family, and I'm afraid that my birthday didn't help at all.

I feel like I do a lot of belly-aching about stuff on my blog but you'd never know how sad I was if you knew me in person.  A long time ago, after my grandparents died and I was having a rough time coping at work (and at home,) a concerned supervisor gave me one of those "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff....and it's all small stuff" books and a higher-up sent me a copy of one of those 'fake the fun and you'll start to have fun' popular books.  It worked, I appreciated the gesture and I got the message "don't show your personal shit, it's annoying and unprofessional" and I've lived by it.  I've also learned over the years that people don't care what's on my mind or how I feel, they want to talk about how they feel.  And I've worked in an industry for years and years that caters to others' needs, not mine, so it's only compounded over time and turned me into some sort of weird privately-emotional, publicly-happy robot.

People like to be around happy people and seem to like to be around me and invite me to parties and such.  But the conversation never gets much deeper than what we're eating, drinking or wearing or how great or horrible the last movie we saw was or general silliness.  I'm the Queen of General Silliness.  Inevitably, someone hits a rough patch, wants someone to talk to, I take the call and genuinely listen and care.  But since the tables have turned and I find myself in a sad slump, there's no one there to take my call.  I told a girlfriend a few weeks ago, "I'm embarrassed to say this out loud, because it's such a cliché for my age, but I'm really lonely and I'm really scared that I always will be."  She made a joke, I said I was serious, I started to cry, she said that I needed to learn to love myself.  She can fuck off.  But, I thought, this is the wrong audience (she's unhappily married) so I need to talk to someone else.  But then I got a joke from the happily married one about how much their dog loves me (he does) and too bad people would talk if I wed a three-year-old Boxer.  That didn't make me feel any less pathetic.

I'm not even talking about marriage here, by the way, just companionship.  Someone to go to a movie with.  Someone to go out for breakfast with on Sunday mornings, someone to go to a baseball game with and maybe go on a hike or something.  Someone to talk to and tell funny stories to and listen to as well.  So I thought I'd talk to my best gay friend and his boyfriend, they'd have to understand!  No.  They thought I was talking about sex and when I clarified that that's not what I'm looking for, they were both dumbfounded and disbelieving.  He said "So, basically, you just want a friend."  I said "I guess so, but more like a friend who really likes me."  And then he dropped a bomb and didn't even know it, he said "But you have friends, lots of friends."  And that was the moment I realized I don't have a single true friend.  And that's why I'm so lonely.

True, I'm lonely because I'm getting old, I'm not meeting people, my clock is ticking and all that, but I'm lonely because I have the world's worst friends.  I can't remember the last time someone asked me to do something that didn't specifically benefit them.  The nice husband of one of my girlfriends has a lot of single guy friends.  I was at their house for dinner earlier this month and he said he should introduce me to some of his friends and see what happens.  She said "No!  Who will I hang out with if she gets involved with someone?!  I'll never see her!"  Before you comment, it has nothing to do with not wanting to introduce me to the wrong guy - she really, truly is that selfish.  She meant what she said exactly as she said it.  Don't take her toy away!

So, here I am, thirty-five.  Single, sad, aging, unsupported, directionless.  My mother forgot to mail my birthday present and said she was sorry it was going to be late.  I said "Don't worry about it, it's late every year, I usually get it after July 4th, you're just keeping up the tradition." and she got mad and yelled at me.  My brother forgot my birthday; my dad had to call and remind him, and he said my card was in the mail.  My dad accidentally had my present shipped to his house instead of mine and he and my stepmom are traveling until the end of the summer, so I can drive the hour and a half to his empty house to pick up my birthday present.  He was genuinely sorry but it just seems to be the way things go for me.  Thank goodness for my little sister.  What would we do without them?!?  She was my birthday angel - she made sure my gift arrived on my actual birthday and made a big fuss over the phone.  It made me think of a picture of the two of us on my 10th birthday: I had just gotten my dream bike that she somehow successfully kept secret for weeks.  Looking at the picture, I can still hear her approaching on tip-toes, asking in her sweet voice "do you like your birthday bike, Meg?"

I didn't have any cards in the mail on Friday or Saturday or any day last week from any of my friends or family.  The phone wasn't ringing and I had no text messages or e-mails.  About a dozen or so people on Facebook did wish me a Happy Birthday, but I hardly know any of them.  The day rolled around and my dance card was totally empty.  No brunch, lunch or dinner invitations, no offers for dessert or cocktails.  Nothing.  Nothing at all.  Maybe birthdays aren't supposed to be celebrated after a certain age?

I didn't want to feel pitiful, so the afternoon of my birthday, I sucked it up and started calling around to see if anyone would go out to eat with me.  There is a restaurant in Roswell, The Brookwood Grill, that I love and have loved for well over a decade and I know it's not the most sophisticated thing to crave, but all I wanted for my birthday was someone to go to my favorite restaurant with me and let me have the world's best chicken tenders (seriously, they really are amazing) and maybe some ice cream or coffee after.  But I couldn't find a soul willing to come to my side of town.  I had a few hesitant "can you meet us in midtown?" or "can you drive out to *insert far away suburb*?" and one, just one "sure, I can meet you for dinner but we have to go somewhere I can take my new dog" which relegated us to one patio at a quick service restaurant where I had soup and salad because that's all they have.  Not even close to my birthday wish.  At least I wasn't by myself, I guess.  I wish I was the type who can eat alone in a restaurant.  I just can't do it.

So, I went to Coldstone on my way home, bought a small birthday cake, and made at least half of my wish come true.  I got in, called my little sister, cut a piece of cake for myself, opened my present over the phone with her and we laughed and laughed and I thought "well, that wasn't so bad, maybe it's just all about perspective; I had a great birthday with the best sister in the world even if it was just over the phone."

But the phone call ends, the house gets quiet, and I eventually become acutely aware of how alone I am.  I started to feel sad about how uncelebrated I felt and I cried myself to sleep.  Presents, schmesents, I really just wanted some chicken fingers, a little ice cream, a hug and someone to ask if I liked my birthday.

Don't Eat Your Feelings, Sally

I knew the ice cream was an ill-fated emotional purchase when I was at the store.  I knew the marshmallows, chocolate bars and graham crackers were a bad idea and that I would never actually make the s'mores, not to mention how bad they looked in context with everything else in my basket.  I knew that there was no way I could explain the THREE bags of potato chips to the cashier and was praying that she'd think I was preparing for some sort of sleep-over for my non-existent kids in my non-existent family.  I wondered what the personal trainer in front of me was thinking about my junk food on the conveyor.  But, hey, I also bought some granola bars and almonds.

And then I got home and was ticked that I let my feelings do the shopping.  I don't think I've ever, in my entire life, bought three bags of chips in one trip to the store.  At least I can say I didn't eat it all but for half a pint, I was pretty sure that Ben & Jerry were right there with me.  Defeated, disappointed, disillusioned, disenchanted, disastrously off the diet wagon; they feel my pain.

I've had a really rough couple of weeks and I'm starting to wonder if it's all rough weeks with just a few bright spots here-and-there.  And the bright spots are really only there so we don't all become a sisterhood of fat, hairy, angry old maids.  I'm sure things will look up if I can land a job, miraculously lose 15 pounds, win the lottery or, or.... buy more ice cream.  Too bad eating salads doesn't trigger serotonin production.  I'd be a waif.

People DO Change, Redux

Not to dwell in the past but I had one of those stereotypical crappy Mondays today.  It was really bad.  Shoulda'-stayed-in-bed bad.  Office Space "Somebody has a case of the Mondays" bad.  I know that somewhere, someone had a far worse day than I but I'm so bitter that I can't see past my own pitiful problems.

I have gone through a few rounds of interviews for a big-deal job for a huge mega-corporation and got the "thanks but no thanks" email today after filling out the "obligatory affirmative-action form" - are they allowed to tell me that they aren't hiring me because of my race??  Because it's a majority?  Seems weird to me.  That drama was followed by a text from my best friend backing out on our plans to go see Mary Poppins at The Fox on Thursday (which we'd had planned since January) because her 9-month-old has "been fussy" the last few nights and she can't leave her at home with the dad for a few hours because he won't be able to sleep well that night.  It really amazes me.  I know that I'm their only single friend but they must not realize that none of my other friends are single so I do actually have a point of reference for such things.  Of all of my friends with offspring, they are the only ones who are always freaking out.

Mother Theresa, I am not.  Can you imagine?  "You have malaria, child?  Oh, yeah, well I have to go stag to Mary Poppins, so get over it."  So, it's not exactly that bad.  But then.....

The "He's Just Not That Into Me" ex-boyfriend got married over the weekend.  She can have him, seriously.  But why does this kind of news always kick you when you're down?  Why never on the day that you win the lottery?  I had secretly hoped that they'd not make it through their engagement so I could say "see what a jerk he was!?"  Mr. and Mrs. Jerk are now on their honeymoon in the tropics and will be residing in their new home in Dallas, TX upon their return next week.  They are not registered because "with each other, we have everything we need."  To quote Christian Siriano, "I think I just died from barfness."

Spinster Thought of the Weekend

"Don't laugh at the spinsters, dear girls, for often very tender, tragic romances are hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns, and many silent sacrifices of youth, health, ambition, love itself, make the faded faces beautiful in God's sight. Even the sad, sour sisters should be kindly dealt with, because they have missed the sweetest part of life, if for no other reason."
— Louisa May Alcott (Little Women)