Before we get into introductions…I suppose, perhaps, we should delve into what drove two friends to start a blog ruminating on lessons from lives started half a century ago.
Both divorced, currently single, and are having a helluva time figuring out this whole how to be a strong, independent women who still want a man who makes us weak in the knees, but doesn’t mess up our shit in the process. Sounds simple, right?
WRONG: It seems damned near impossible at this stage of life.
Men seem to want a strong, independent woman, who is ‘as comfortable in heels as she is in jeans’, who is ‘up for a night on the town or a night at home watching Netflix’, who is ‘fit/comfortable with herself’…aye yay aye…..they want something strong, independent women don’t tend to have time for in terms of dichotomy. Do they have any fucking clue how hard it is to just be that?
I mean…we have jobs, we have kids/parents needing attention, we have shit to do…in addition to scheduling mani-pedis, fixing shit or finding people to fix our shit for us, trying to determine suitable fashions when you have a 30 year old mind in a 50ish body. (regardless of your level of fitness. Sorry, but Daisy Dukes and midi tops should NEVER happen at this age!)
Being what they perceive is ‘easy’ ain’t all that.
I’m quite certain the men don’t realize they are being unrealistic: Modern media thwarts our efforts to handle reality effectively. Modern Media makes it seem like all of the above is possible and that we can live a life that is some perfect combination of June Cleaver and Joan of Arc wrapped up in the inexplicably unaging body of Christy Brinkley. SPOILER ALERT: Not possible, guys. And girls. Because, let’s face it…if you’re a woman, you’re probably making yourself nuts trying to work some of that combo…so knock it off, sister. You do you, girl!
Dude…seriously…get a grip. SO not happening. Lolol. But it’s adorable you think so.
So, My partner (in the crime of being middle aged women) shares a fabulous sense of humor and disarming wit. One of us is stunningly gorgeous; the other girl-next-door-cute-when-the-effort-goes-in, and is ‘Jeopardy champ wicked smart, and both have mad cooking skillz to boot. We, in our different ways, should be considered ’catches’.
One could not determine this by the quality of men that enter our lives….and most leave rather quickly. (Generally by our adieu — but not always.) It’s a compli-fucking-cated mess out there, and we are trying to make sense of it.
We also realized that we couldn’t be the only ones wondering ‘WHA??????’ Also — we don’t want to lose our shit in the process and writing often helps. And is wayyyy cheaper than therapy.
So, we ended up here, and as we present our similar yet different perspectives on loving and leaving in Middle Age, we hope you’ll join us. We look forward to either entertaining you, enlightening you, or, at the very least, promising you that you aren’t in this alone.
Hi there. I still happen to like formalities, or at least the appearance of them. Kiki and I are two women who embraced each other in a world that tries to pit women as adversaries- even when a male is involved. Especially when a male is involved. We'll share the details of that encounter, but it's no surprise women are such survivors.
The short version is we were engaged to the same man. She got out before marrying him. I didn't. But in the divorce, I got to keep her and the other fabulous women brought into my life through that relationship. And, yes, it was my second trip (hmmm....) down the aisle.
She may have alluded to the fact that dating can be challenging as we've matured. I concur. But only in the same way that decorating cupcakes with sprinkles underwater would be challenging. And often with the same outcome. I presume.
And it might be fair to mention, I'm a little farther down the road from the most recent trainwreck, so I've had time to assess the damages and my role so my responses might be a bit less... raw.
But that's why we're here. We've gained some knowledge, have ridiculous amounts of experience and life keeps granting us more, we keep working on the lessons, and know that laughter seems to be the best medicine- along with a best girlfriend to commiserate with and a very generous pour of a great red.
We're truly just here to document some of our experiences and to let others know that life is weird and complicated and messy, and no one really has it all figured out, and that you're more than likely just as normal as we are, which I realize probably isn't much of a comfort, but (insert some lame cliche here about safety in numbers.)
We know we'll have detractors. They've got their stuff to work through to. We do not profess to be experts in anything other than our own lives, and we're not even that great at those at times, quite honestly. Let these sharings not serve so much as advice as perhaps as just a diversion- or even a warning.
Time to test the waters...
Thanks for the read.
We are storytellers. We appreciate the art of embellishment and irony. And our memories don't appear to be sharpening with time. So, the very essence of these retellings, the heart of the stories, is how we mostly recall them. But time softens the edges and gives us perspective, and we gain the ability to laugh at those lessons that keep finding their way to us. So while these events really transpired, we aren't naming names or pointing fingers. This is our space to share our stories, our loves, our lessons, our losses, and our laughs. And we always reserve the right to omit incriminating details to protect our supportive, trusting, watchful families.