I like to think my problem is a common one. I see TV shows and read magazine articles about it all the time. The "thirty-something" single woman – reasonably attractive, career-oriented, financially stable, active social life...she has it all... Or does she? How many of us are desperately aware that we don't have it all? How many of us long for the one thing that's eluded us all our lives?
Sometimes I wonder how it happens. How the girls who were fairly smart, fairly pretty, fairly popular in their youth end up with no soul mate, no children, no hearth and home. Is it because there are "no good men left"? Is it because "we've set our standards too high"? Is it because we're just not "hanging out in the right places"?
I know it's true that some women don't care for the idea of married life. They don't have a longing to bear children, drive them to piano practice and basketball camp, coach Little League and be the president of the PTA. The thought of sitting up all night with a sick child, or helping someone finish their homework holds no appeal.
But I'm different. I want that. And unlike many career-minded women, who've put their personal lives on hold in order to get established in their careers, I've always wanted that. And I never thought I'd hit the ripe old age of thirty-three and be unmarried and childless. How did this happen?
Let's be clear about one thing, though. Much as I love and want children, I've no desire to be a single mother. You won't find me standing in line for a sperm donor, so that I can bear children regardless of the lack of man in my life. No, the soul mate fits very much into the picture. And even there, I've relaxed my ideals a little. I don't exactly believe there's such a thing as a soul mate. I think what I've really been looking for is just someone I can love who can love me back... Is that too much to ask?
*****
I have some good friends in my life – almost all of them single and in their thirties. We have a good time together. We support each other. For example, when my friend John needed a hot girlfriend for his 20th high school reunion, Jodie (a former lingerie model, and recent addition to our crew) willingly stepped in. When Sophia moved, she had eight strong backs there to help her out. And when Nick found out his fiancée was sleeping around, we were there for him. In fact, the closest I ever came to having a fistfight was with that woman – flaunting her new boyfriend in front of Nick at the MAXI awards. Instead of clocking her though, I just told her exactly what I thought of her, and then tried to catch up with him as he waved down a cab. Later, I took him home, got him drunk, and let him cry in my arms.
What else could I do?
I think we all want love. Deep down, we all want to feel as though we're something special to at least one other person in the world. We all want to be needed, respected, adored. At least I want that. So shoot me - I'm a hopeless romantic!
Of course I don't think about this all the time. I do have a job – Marketing Director for Rawlings Group – a rather small (in the grand scheme of things) shopping center developer. Our company buys, sells and manages retail centers in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area – from strip malls to lifestyle centers. My job is to promote our company – to brand our name, the theory being that if the major players in the shopping center industry know who Rawlings Group is, the chances of us making the big deals improve greatly. Dallas is a big market – competition is fierce – and corporate buyouts are as common as ants at a picnic. And Rawlings...well, it is small enough to get swallowed up by one of the big developers in a heartbeat. It's my job to make sure that we're seen as a strong company – not one that would be easy to take over.
I started working at Rawlings as a marketing assistant when I was twenty-four – my second job out of college. I worked hard and showed an aptitude. Nine years later, here I am. I like my job and the people I work with. I like writing press releases and directing ad design. I like meeting people and schmoozing over a cocktail or two. I like going to tradeshows and getting the company name out there. I'm good at my job and it shows.
I met John my first day at Rawlings. He thought he'd hit on the new girl, and I think I surprised him by actually agreeing to have a drink with him. I wasn't thinking "Hubba, hubba," I was thinking "Free drink." Surprisingly, we hit it off. Not romantically, of course – he was far too old for me (30) – but ultimately in a much more satisfying way. John's a flirt, occasionally a bit promiscuous, but a lot of fun to be around. He's one of my oldest and dearest friends.
With the exception of my sister Valerie, my best girlfriend would have to be Sophia. I met her two years ago at one of Nick's parties, and it was like we'd known each other forever. She's Creative Director for an advertising agency, but – like me – is a small town girl in a big city. The sophisticated exterior is nothing but a carefully crafted façade, and underneath it all, we're nothing more than a couple of hayseeds, wondering what the hell happened to the lives we were "supposed" to have.
Valerie had that life. She lives just outside Davenport, Iowa, not too far from where we grew up, is married to a man she adores, and is pregnant with her second child. I envy her. Not that I want her life exactly – I mean Jeff's nice, and I guess he's good-looking if you like blondes, but honestly, he completely ruins the whole fantasy of having Valerie's life. I know she loves him, but...I...yeesh! I could not imagine being married to him. (And that, my friends, is how I get around my jealousy of other women's lives. I try to imagine being married to their spouses – and it never fails to turn me off.)
I'm not a man-hater or anything. I go on the occasional date, sometimes more than one with the same guy, but the men I most frequently see are my friends. I don't call those dates, because there's no sexual pressure. We can laugh, have fun, drink, and I don't have to worry about whether someone's going to want me to put out. Not that I have a problem with sex. I just have a problem having sex with someone I barely know or have no feelings for. Somewhere around age 30, I decided that it was okay for me to feel this way – that it didn't make me frigid, or rigid, or un-dateable. The only downside to this empowering attitude is that it has led to a rather long stretch of celibacy.
Which is okay. Really. Because who needs sex, right? And when you get right down to it, who needs a man? It's entirely possible to lead a happy life without the suffocating confines of a marriage, right?
Ugh!! What is wrong with me???
*****
These moods would hit me occasionally. The "My ovaries are shriveling up and I'm going to die old and alone!" moods that make me want to eat ice cream by the gallon. One of them hit me when I was in Vegas at a trade show. I ran into a former co-worker who was sporting an enormous diamond – and an even more enormous belly. "Twins!" she'd exclaimed excitedly.
God, I was jealous! Not in a bad way, don't get me wrong! I was very happy for her. Five hours later, however, I was sitting in the hotel bar, half-drunk, complaining to John and Nick that I needed to have a baby. When John jokingly volunteered to help me out with that, Nick clipped him across the back of the head and said, "Martie doesn't need to hear crap like that from you."
John immediately looked contrite and held his arms open to me, "I'm so sorry Martie." His voice oozed fake sincerity, causing me to smile, "How insensitive of me."
I slid off my bar stool and allowed John to hug me close, and then make a few lewd noises as though it turned him on to have my breasts pressed against him like that. I heard Nick's snort of disgust and felt John jerk as he was smacked once again.
"Ow! Jeez Nick! Just for that, you can pay my tab." John rubbed his head as he turned to me, "Hang in there kid – make Nick buy you another drink." He patted my cheek and then walked towards the door.
I raised an eyebrow at Nick, and tried not to laugh. "I think you hurt him."
Nick shook his head, "Are you kidding? His skull's about as sensitive as concrete!" He pulled out his wallet and threw a bunch of bills on the bar – enough to cover all their drinks, and then some, and slung an arm about my shoulder. "Come on then. Let's hit the casino – there's nothing like losing some money to cheer a person up."
I had to laugh, and let him lead me from the bar out into the casino. We found a couple of seats at a blackjack table and Nick passed the dealer a few hundreds to start, splitting his chips with me. Oh – did I mention Nick's a dealmaker at Rawlings – and that he makes a lot of money? I mean a LOT? That's why I didn't feel too guilty gambling on his dime.
