For me, 40 seems so final. Where it was acceptable, expected even at 20, to flirt, pick up sailors during fleet week, find that doe-eyed honey at a rave, slip the coffee-slinging-cutie your number and where it was a little more awkward but still in the rulebook (cougar) during my 30s. Now? It’s officially over. The age when it is now unseemly, ugly and inappropriate to flirt has been reached. And from here on out, as a married 40, is the sex I will be having for the remainder of my lifetime. 😐
I love Brett. I mean really, love Brett. He is the foundation from which my independence is enabled. But save a handful of occasions in 12 years, I find myself wondering what to do with the 30 or so years in front of me. (When, really, will I be completely disinterested in sex? 60? Hard to imagine one makes it to 70?) What is unseemly for my 40s is the stuff of romantic comedies in my 60s and 70s.
I realize the last decade was a long, slow grieving process. Mourning the loss of the only identity I knew – the boy crazy little girl looking for her father figure. (Thank you Freud). But that little girl got me far. She found some wonderful, wonderful men (First Rudi, then Darren, Ian, Jonathan…) and of course found me my husband. Though now that I write that I’m not sure she was at play for Brett. I think my little flirt was much more grown up at that time. She wasn’t so intimidated by the idea of hanging on to a quality man. When she met Brett she was ready to be a professional. She talked about inventing things and technology. She stood independent from any one job, beholden to a bookstore, not a corporate entity. She was on her own that night, holding her own. Not even her friends with her, she was bold by herself. She chose Brett… from a line of men in front of 111 Minna on a Wednesday night. Valentines Day. She took him in and chose him.
Did I think of Brett as the one for whom I was “good enough”? Is it wrong if I did? Does it change anything? I recognized him as real. I think that was the point. I recognized him then as the man who stands in front of me now; in his old climbing shorts, faded layered tee shirts (one long sleeve one short) from years ago, morning hair striking out in all directions from his head. Brett always seemed like a real person to me. I do sometimes wonder what would have happened if Jonathan had seemed real. At the time, I thought I could never have him. It was a clear cut case of self sabotage. Looking back, I know now that he loved me and would have married me if I’d been listening to him. But I was not capable of hearing that. I was not capable of understanding that I was worth loving (by a man??), until quite recently.
Crazy to think that it’s taken 40 years for me to understand.