The question of men is coming up for me quite a bit recently. I mostly accept my life as a single woman, I enjoy the freedom I have to go my own way. But that’s a whole area of life that is not easily denied altogether, and so it rises up to bite me every so often.
Once is the issue I’m having at my group, discussed in my previous post, that is kind of weird and anxiety provoking. Then today, I went out with some friends I met at a social group I used to go to. We had a nice time, saw a really good movie (an Argentinian film, The Secret in their Eyes) and went for cappucino after. Everything was great. So we start talking about movies we might see, and the attractive grey-eyed young man on my right says, I’d love to see Toy Story 3. Oh, I’d see that, I say without thinking. So his eyes kind of glaze over and he says oh? in this dismissive voice.
Now I wasn’t looking for a date. I turned to the young woman on my other side, started talking to her, and we decided we might see Toy Story 3 together. So this young man pops in and says, oh, count me in.
I guess I felt kind of offended. As if he thought I was trying to go out with him when I said I’d go see that movie. Which I wasn’t. I would assume others were going also. One, he’s too young. Two, I know how I look, and it’s nothing special on a good day. Which is OK, we can’t all have every gift…. Though hey, I’m not fat. I have breasts even. But beauty, well, not so much.
But can’t he get over himself?
I guess the kicker is, we get on quite well. He’s interesting when he’s not being arrogant. Doesn’t mean this middle aged woman is after his body and he needs to defend himself.
I just feel these things wouldn’t happen to me if I had a man in the background everyone knew about. Or if I was gay. Or something. Or if I was fabulously beautiful, or amazingly rich, or had wonderful taste in clothes. Or if I was simply someone else altogether.
Art: William James Glackens, Woman with Poodle