Happy Valentine’s Day!
I know, I’m a late. I’m always late. My mother used to say, “Pamela, all I do is wait for you. You’ll be late to your own funeral!” Of course my response was, “I certainly hope so!”
Valentine’s Day! What do you do when you don’t have a love interest with whom to celebrate it? I do things that make me happy. One year I sat in front of the fireplace with a book and a tea service for one. Another year I spent the day shopping at the Westfield Topanga mall in LA, one of my favorites. I went home dog tired and spent the evening knitting and watching old black-and-white movies. What a luxury!
That particular Valentine’s Day my sister went shopping with me and proceeded to tell me she felt sorry for me because I dated so many men and couldn’t get one of them to marry me. I explained that I didn’t care to remarry; I enjoyed dating different men and loved living alone. She told me I was pathetic. My mother said my sister was jealous, but then my mother’s answer to any problem I confronted with another human being was that they were jealous.
When a friend of mine was considering marriage, her mother’s advice to her was that there is no need for marriage unless it improves your financial situation. Unwittingly, my sister and a few of my friends followed this advice, marrying men with, shall we say, healthy bank accounts, but then they complained incessantly about the demands put on them by their husbands. Not to mention that they were what one would call trophy wives, so they were expected to look marvelous at all times. No lazy Sunday afternoons on the couch dressed in sweats with a mug of tea and a box of chocolates—or in my case, a glass of Chardonnay and a bowl of chips—reading a bodice ripper or a nice cozy mystery. These women’s lives were consumed with personal trainers, dieticians, and nips and tucks. Their complaints made me grateful that, as hard as I worked, I didn’t have to be “on” 24/7 to please someone else.
Now, having to look perfect at all times requires a lot of shopping. I happen to adore retail therapy; shopping is my favorite hobby. Sometimes I purchase nothing at all, which is more akin to wandering through a museum. Other times I arrive home loaded down with shopping bags and have to make several trips from the car to the house. On that Valentine’s shopping day with my sister, I noticed she was tucking her shopping bags in the trunk of the car and covering them up with her golf equipment. I thought that was rather odd, so I asked her about it. Her response was, “Don’t mention my shopping to Argyle. I don’t want him to know how much money I spent.” I was shocked to learn that this is called “the trunk trick” and I’d never heard of it before. I suggested she take her packages in the house and show her husband her purchases. He might enjoy sharing her enthusiasm for shopping. She responded that her husband would not understand the necessity of having three pairs of golf shoes in assorted colors to match her outfits. “Oh” was all I could muster.
A friend, who’d married into an upscale lifestyle, once called me, crying that her husband wanted to go to Uruguay to live for three years and she wouldn’t be able to take her dog. Always the helpful friend, I suggested she assist her husband in packing his bag and drive him to the airport. She responded, “Oh, no! You don’t understand, I’d follow my husband anywhere. He always makes the best decisions for us.” “Really?” was the only response I could conjure up. I can’t imagine turning my life over to someone else. I’ve made a number of bad decisions in my life, but they’ve been mine.
Marrying up the money chain is something that Addie’s sister, Missy, does in the Court Reporter Mystery Series, but we all know this does not speak to most relationships. Nearly all the couples I know are very happy together after 40 and 50 years of marriage. My ex-husband and I are best friends. In my opinion, men are quite interesting creatures as long as one doesn’t live with them; thus, my partner lives part-time with me and travels for business the rest of the time. I know some couples who maintain separate residences, which sounds equally delightful.
Though I adore my home in Ashland and this quaint village, at times when I’m feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, I want to go home, alone, to my beloved Santa Monica, California, and my childhood residence where Addie currently resides in my books. Don’t we all have those moments? Relationships and living arrangements can be complicated. They’re also private and sensitive subjects, but if you’d like to weigh in, I’d love to hear from you. After all, women of a certain age have been around the block a few times—I think we’ve earned the right to be opinionated.