Human beings are social beings. Isolation is anathema to an alcoholic, and to people in general. Research shows that remaining socially engaged can maintain brain vitality and possibly stave off dementia.1 According to the Alzheimer’s Association, “research found that sports, cultural activities, emotional support and close personal relationships together appear to have a protective effect against dementia.”2 Because one of my grandmothers had early onset of Alzheimer’s disease, I personally strive to stay active physically, mentally, and socially, to reduce my chances of a similar fate.
Don’t look for a partner who is eye candy. Look for a partner who is soul food.
—Karen Salmansohn
What does dating look like for those of us over 50? What is our ideal in a partner? While before it may have been “bad boys,” head-turners, or those who could offer us financial security, for most women I know, kindness tops the list in this chapter in our lives. But how would I find appropriate gentlemen with whom I would like to keep company?
I had a brief foray into online dating sites, with little luck. Before getting advice from more seasoned chums, I would accept dates based on the assumed veracity of the candidate’s profile. I wanted to believe the embellished profiles, reading them as if they were a high-end catalog or a well-written menu. One guy’s photo was at least 10 years younger than he appeared when we met. In the photo, he had hair. In person, he was bald. I do not mind baldness. I do mind the dishonesty in his presentation, however. This guy also overshared intimate details about his life on the one and only date we had, and invited me to go away on a trip with him on his private plane to Machu Picchu. Then he told me he was still married but his wife had denied him sex for years. I was, for once, happy to be short because I was able to dodge his attempt at kissing me good night at the end of our date.
My second Match.com date was pleasant, until the man started expounding on how women should behave, in his opinion. As a fairly unedited person, I am a fan of strong opinions, but I felt as if I had stepped into a time warp while listening to his conservative views. I knew he was not someone with whom I would like a second date.
Disenchanted by my online dating experiences, I changed strategy. A girlfriend suggested I try speed dating. There is an organization in many metropolitan areas called Professionals in the City. They organize events and group them by age range and other categories. I first attended a reception for people over 50. It was disappointing, so I planned to try a speed dating event with my friend. One boring evening, however, I saw online that one was being held nearby, so I jumped in my car and decided to give it a try.
The room crackled with excited conversation, as people tried to make memorable first impressions. Four minutes were allotted to the singles, who ranged in age from young 20s to early 50s. The name Professionals in the City implied that attendees were “professionals” of some sort, though that was not always the case.
It was a fascinating microcosm of social interaction. It was ethnically and racially diverse. Guests were invited to stay after the speed dating portion of the evening to mingle and dance. Hookups did take place, and couples were able to connect online via the organization’s website, if they wished—or not.
Though some of the speed dating events are separated by age range or other categories, the first one I happened to go to was not. The women are seated at small tables. Every four minutes, a bell rings, signifying that it is time for the men to rotate to a new table. The first man to sit at my table was young enough to be my son. He said he thought I was in my 20s. I showed him my license and he seemed shocked. Made my night.
I was flattered by the few men I met who were young enough to be my son yet earnestly tried to interest me in a date. They were not deterred when I showed them my license with my birth date. I ended up coaching two of the youngsters on how to beef up their opening lines and job descriptions when meeting prospective women.
I found the whole thing fascinating. I enjoyed seeing how a man would present himself in four minutes. Afterward, guests were invited to hang around for drinks and dancing. The mating ritual on display. I planned to write an article about the evening, but my editor wanted a first-person account. I was unwilling at that time to be that self-revelatory.
I met only one man that night who held my interest with his easy conversation and interesting profession. We ended up dating for almost a year after that night, though it ended badly.
I went as a “wing woman” with a girlfriend to some other speed dating evenings. She did get a good date or two with a charismatic Irish doctor out of the event.
After my breakup with speed date number one, I went to a speed dating event for people with advanced degrees. I figured I would at least meet intelligent men that way, and longed for some intellectual conversation.
No one exactly wowed me during their five-minute allotted interview/audition time. But afterward, a pleasant enough Parisian who had been in the musical table rotation asked me to have a drink with him after the event. I told him I did not drink alcohol and he said he did not drink much. He regaled me with stories of the jobs he had held all over the world, including being a scuba diving instructor, a member of the French army, and a deliverer of six-figure luxury goods to their owners. He was a PhD candidate and his dissertation, which dealt with bicultural individuals, fascinated me.
We dated for several months. It lasted into the summer. My college-aged daughter was visiting one weekend and agreed to come with us for dinner on the boat of a French couple. It was a wonderful dinner, but my daughter was not impressed with my date. As we drove away she remarked, “That was the most arrogant man I have ever met.”
“But we have such wonderful, wide-ranging, intellectual, mind-expanding discussions,” I replied.
“Mom, you can get that from your girlfriends. You don’t have to date it.”
After that evening, I started to notice the arrogance. The relationship began to unravel. It ended shortly thereafter.
I still recommend speed dating to friends who are newly on the dating scene. I believe it is easier to get a true feeling about someone when meeting face-to-face, as opposed to online. If I ever returned to the dating scene, however, I would have iChats or Skype meetings with anyone before agreeing to meet them for a date. I think body language and facial expressions can reveal important things about one’s character.
Putting myself out there in the dating world felt vulnerable and risky. Since people over the age of 50 do not usually hang out in bars (or if they did, I would be unlikely to want to meet them), online dating or other methods that might cut through 10 dates’ worth of info on a person is an efficient way to go. Women are somewhat at an advantage in the online dating scenario, in that the sites typically allow women to use them free of charge, or at least at a lower cost than for men.
I know people who met via an online dating site and are happily married. I have met more happily married couples who met their partners while simply going about their business. According to a local running club in the D.C. area, 50 couples met while participating in the club’s running events and ultimately married. Shared interests may be the best way to meet, for obvious reasons.
Although I did not find a true love while online or speed dating, I figured out what I wanted and did not want in a relationship. I learned that I was ready to date again, even as someone in middle age.
I now know that I had to develop a healthy self-esteem before I could be in a healthy relationship. I also had to learn the difference between being in love with an image of what I wanted and being in love with who was really there.
Now that I am in a solid, loving relationship, I have adopted another affirming practice: every day, my partner and I text to each other one thing we appreciate about the other person. Sometimes it is about something small, like his smile. Other times it is about feeling heard and supported. It doesn’t really matter what exactly it is. The practice helps me keep looking for the things I like about him, instead of focusing on what I do not like. If I look for the negative and spend my mental energy there, it will become magnified. I would much rather magnify the good in my significant other. I am sure you would, as well. This technique also helps when one’s teenagers are going through trying stages. . . .
If you have a partner, what do you appreciate about him or her? Make a list and share it. Who doesn’t like feeling appreciated? Keep the list and look at it when a rough patch comes along. If you do not have a partner, what are the qualities you most value in another?
Each woman . . . arrives there through deep meditation, dance, writing, painting, prayermaking, singing, drumming, active imagination, or any activity which requires an intense altered consciousness. . . . She arrives there by deeply creative acts, through intentional solitude, and by practice of any of the arts.
—Clarissa Pinkola Estes3
Before I turned 50, I was not familiar with drum circles. I first participated in one at a rehab facility. I was self-conscious trying it, at first, and then allowed myself to melt into the flow and rhythm. The experience seemed to have some healing properties, which makes sense to me since we each emerged into this world first hearing the beating of our mother’s hearts in utero. The drum circle definitely helped solidify our community of participants.
Drum circles usually are informal, with no leader. The main objective is to get in tune with each other and one’s self. A group consciousness may be formed via the circle.
A drum circle in D.C.’s Meridian Hill Park has taken place every Sunday for more than 50 years. It is believed to have started during the week of Malcolm X’s assassination in 1965, as a spiritual revival.4 It was at that time about black cultural awareness, when the surrounding neighborhood was predominantly African American.
The first time I ventured into Meridian Hill Park, I was struck by the many hues of skin color of those present at the drum circle. People were there from varied walks of life, joining on a Sunday afternoon in the park to dance or beat on just about any surface. I could feel the drumbeat in my chest and under my feet. The group sound seemed to take on physical presence. If anyone remained still, I wager that it took some effort.
Drum circles used to be popular only among counterculture groups. The practice has spread beyond, in this decade.
I came upon a drum circle on Venice Beach one day. It seemed to have started impromptu. A large crowd gathered. The energy was contagious. My friend and I found ourselves drawn in to the rhythm and the dancing. It was a fabulous way to spend a few hours unwinding on the beach. No talking was necessary. We all just let ourselves get carried away with the beat. I did not know anyone but my one friend there. I let go.
Do you allow yourself to let go? Have you tried the cathartic feeling of drumming? You don’t even need a real drum to try it. A pot or pan would work. Overturned plastic paint buckets make excellent substitute drums. In rehab, one counselor had me beat large pillows with a baseball bat to get my frustration and anger out. It worked.
20. Sing Like No One’s Listening
I don’t sing because I’m happy; I’m happy because I sing.
—William James
When my children were little, they would cover their ears when I sang. Harrumph.
So maybe I do not have the best voice. So what? I challenged myself to sing in front of others at an open mic event. This was in the vein of “dance like no one’s watching.” I did it more to overcome my embarrassment than to show my “talent.”
I had done karaoke with a group on stage before. This was different. I was alone in the spotlight. People were looking just at me.
I did it. I cannot say I enjoyed it, but I had the guts to try it. Moving beyond my comfort zone helps me grow and makes the next new thing—whatever that may be—easier to try. And one can find karaoke venues just about anywhere. While you are unlikely to see me on stage any time soon, I am an enthusiastic supporter and listener.
A Senegalese poet said, “In the end we will conserve only what we love. We love only what we understand, and we will understand only what we are taught.” We must learn about other cultures in order to understand, in order to love, and in order to preserve our common world heritage.
—Yo-Yo Ma
I bought a sari when I was in Nepal. I attended my first traditional Indian/Nepali Hindu marriage ceremony and was happy to wear it. I felt that my wearing of the sari, and the bindi, were signs of respect in this context.
I wondered, however, whether this was a form of cultural appropriation or misappropriation? Cultural misappropriation is a debate that has begun to dominate the media. It is the adoption of cultural elements in a colonial manner—elements are copied from a minority culture by members of a dominant culture, and used outside of their original cultural context. It is particularly disrespectful when the person copying something from another culture makes no attempt to learn about the meaning of the thing in question.
Author and Fordham law professor Susan Scafidi defines cultural appropriation as taking, without permission, intellectual property, traditional knowledge, cultural expressions, or artifacts from someone else’s culture. “This can include unauthorized use of another culture’s dance, dress, music, language, folklore, cuisine, traditional medicine, religious symbols, etc. . . . It’s most likely to be harmful when the source community is a minority group that has been oppressed or exploited in other ways or when the object of appropriation is particularly sensitive, e.g. sacred objects.”5
As a person of color, I am especially mindful of cultural sensitivity. Our multicultural society makes it somewhat inevitable that many things will be shared among groups present in this country. Of course, it should be done with respect.
Thus, I spent time learning about saris and investigating the meaning of the bindi. Saris are worn by women throughout India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka. They are one of the oldest types of garments still in use. A sari is made of several yards of fabric draped over the body. It takes a while to learn how to wrap a sari properly, and different methods and styles are used in various South Asian regions.
A bindi is a popular forehead decoration worn mainly in South Asia, from an old Hindu tradition. The word bindi is derived from a Sanskrit word and is associated with a person’s mystical third eye. Bindis have been used to ward off bad luck, to remind Hindus to cultivate their spiritual vision, and to signify that a woman is married. They have transformed over time to become popular fashion accessories.
There is, I know, a fine line between appreciation and appropriation, and I do not wish to cross it. My hosts at the Hindu wedding service said that they appreciated my adopting their traditional garb for the occasion. It felt right to me, in any event. It felt graceful and elegant. I wore this fashion that was unusual to me as a sign of respect. But this activity helped me gain respect and understanding as well.
Expand your horizons. Learn about other cultures. Keep growing.
The energy you’ll expend focusing on someone else’s life is better spent working on your own. Just be your own idol.
—Sophia Amoruso
John F. Kennedy Jr. was two feet from me, seated behind me at a wedding I attended in New York City in the early 1990s. He looked like an Adonis. During the ceremony, I turned around and he was right behind me. I froze. During the reception, we crossed paths several times, yet I could not even speak. We reached for hors d’oeuvres from the same tray at one point and I babbled something unintelligible. Why? Because he was stunningly attractive and I had put him on a pedestal of somehow being better than I was.
Flash forward two decades. I was sitting in a coffee shop in Venice Beach, California. Actor Tobey Maguire walked in and sat down at the table next to mine. I had loved him in the Spider-Man movies, and The Great Gatsby was soon to premiere with him in a lead role. Because of the work I had done on myself, there was no star-struck response in me. He was more handsome in person than he was to me on screen. He had come to the coffee shop to interview potential nannies and personal assistants. I eavesdropped on his first interview with a young nanny candidate.
After she left, I turned to him and said, “You are asking the wrong questions.” He then started asking me for ideas. Some of mine included asking what the candidate would do in a hypothetical emergency scenario, what kinds of activities she would do with the children, her driving record status, her thoughts on how much television kids should be permitted to watch under her care, among others. He liked what I had to say, and asked if I would give him my contact information to potentially interview for the personal assistant position. I declined, saying that I was far too overqualified! At that point, he may have thought I was a crazy person. But it was a fun conversation between two people who appeared to hold each other with equal regard.
One thing I took away from Gabrielle Bernstein’s Spirit Junkie6 was the important lesson of not elevating other people’s status above your own. When we put people on pedestals and idolize them, fear and ego tinge our encounters with them. We set ourselves up to feel less than, even though we know, intellectually, that we are all equal human beings.
We live in a celebrity culture that can skew our values. The whole “VIP” notion that our society espouses in certain arenas can warp our perspectives.
Because I am now comfortable in my own skin, I do not tend to elevate other people anymore. This change in dynamics in my daily interactions has improved the quality of all of my encounters which, today, includes corporate legal clients who may think they are of a more important stature than I.
As a recovering codependent, I also have to practice nonattachment in my personal relationships. I work hard at not subjugating my needs and keep communication clear to do so. We each have our own Higher Powers, and each are responsible for our own happiness and well-being, as are other people.
Do you sometimes elevate your estimation or treatment of people for the wrong reasons? Is there any other aspect of your treatment of others that you would like to change? Awareness is the first step toward changing anything. You can do it.
I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.
—Maya Angelou
As a Girl Scout, we sang the verse “Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold” over and over. I was too young to appreciate its significance at that time. I do now.
At one point in my life, I was more about breadth than depth. I spread myself too thinly. My best friends remain those who have known me the longest. The shared history binds us together in profound ways.
My besties from high school have loved me through thick and thin, and I them. The day I got divorced, they spent the night at my house. I have no biological sisters. These friends are my chosen sisters. We go away on mini-vacations together, periodically. We laugh together until our stomachs hurt.
My ex-sister-in-law is my best friend. Decades ago, we both married brothers from a family with difficult-to-navigate parameters and lots of unresolved issues. We are uniquely positioned to understand certain dynamics at play in our lives as part of this family. I thank God that she is in my life.
Our sad reality today is that she has metastasized cancer. She was five years clear of breast cancer before it returned with a vengeance. Every day I have with her is a gift. I feel that every day. She has come to visit me between chemo treatments, and hosts me at her home frequently. She recently gave me the nicest compliment I have ever received. She said, “You sometimes refer to our relationship as being like sisters, but you are better than that; you are my best friend. We don’t have the baggage that comes with sisters.”
I also have sisters in sobriety. My sponsor and women I have come to know in the 12-step rooms have saved my life. They loved me until I could love myself. Part of recovery is helping other alcoholics. We are always there for each other, even in the middle of the night. I can call my sponsor—and my sponsees can call me—at any hour for guidance or support. When I cannot reach my sponsor, I call other women in the program. I can tell them my darkest secrets and never feel judged or crazy, but rather lightened and understood. These women are my chosen family.
I will spend this chapter of my life nurturing the relationships most important to me. There are many levels of friendship, and I intend to enjoy whatever time I have left with these chosen sisters. No longer will I spend my time indiscriminately, but rather intentionally, with those who deserve and respect me. Avoid time vampires. Time is the one thing we cannot get back. Guard it wisely.