Three out of four Saturdays, I am either entertaining a guest, traveling, or collapsed in a heap on the sectional sofa. But, on that fourth Saturday night, I partake in the pastime that consumes much of the world on Saturday nights—going to dinner and a movie.
I used to resist this activity, thinking that it smacked of single woman showing the world that she, too, could have a life. And, so I tended to just hang out at home, cooking and watching a movie. But, then, it occurred to me that the reason that the dinner/movie is such a popular combination is because it is fun and easy. So, why should I be deprived of such a wonderful way to decompress?
I learned the tricks of making this a delightful process. First, about Thursday, I say to myself, “Self, would you like to go out to dinner and to a movie on Saturday?” You will be relieved to hear that I do not carry on a dialogue with myself in two different voices because that might indicate that I am crazy and we know that is not the case. Instead, I start looking online to see what is opening and what appeals. For the dining part of the evening, it is important to select a restaurant that is good, but not great. There is no need to savor every mouthful because I need to head for the movie. But, it is important to go to a place that serves a variety of nice dishes as well as an acceptable wine list. I don’t want to go to one of my places where I am considered part of the dining family like Jaguar or Houston’s because then I have to spend my dinner talking with everyone and I don’t really get to relax. There are a few places in the Grove, South Miami, and Miami Beach that are the perfect places for these casual, yet charming, dinners and so I go through my list and decide what is most appealing.
There is definitely an art to selecting the correct movie. I don’t want to select a blockbuster or event movie because there will be crowds with shoving and pushing to get to the seats and that is not fun at all. I don’t want to select anything that has the potential to traumatize or cause nightmares because this needs to be a relaxing experience and not require six Lunestas. I find that there are usually a couple of choices and I use the critical thinking skills espoused in the many textbooks to which I have access to determine the best choice.
Last night was a very pleasant evening. I decided to go to a relatively new Italian restaurant on the fringe of Coconut Grove called Calamari. The food is good, the service is lovely, and there is a very nice ambience. After dinner, I would see Taking Woodstock, a movie which fit all of the above specifications.
Meandering through the Grove along the brick sidewalks and under the lush greenery is always a pleasant experience. On this particular evening, I did become a bit warm as the temperature hovered at a humid 94 degrees. I was greeted by the shrill harmonica of Bob Dylan as I approached the hostess stand, so we made the decision that I should sit inside with my favorite waiter who calls me his lucky charm. I was in a room overlooking Main Highway, a lovely road awash with the aforementioned greenery. Next to me, there was a table set up for 40, but I assumed that I would be long gone before this banquet got underway. The only other people on my side of the restaurant were a couple.
I ordered simply—a glass of Pinot Grigio and a veal piccata accompanied by pasta and some wonderful crusty bread. On my Saturday dinner/movie nights, I usually don’t read because I read so much the rest of the time. I just sit and sometimes I will give myself an agenda like—how many dresses should I buy this fall? or how many nights should I spend in Barcelona? And, of course, I love observing what is going on around me.
It only took a minute or two to establish that the couple close to me was on a semblance of a date. The man with a modest combover did not stop talking about blogs that he is quoted in on Washington politics as well as the current state of Florida politics. He never asked the woman anything. I established that this was a date by leaping up when he went to the men’s room and asking the woman if she was on a date or married. When she looked at me quizzically, I told her that the level of their discourse was so interesting and that, if they were married, they had one of the most intellectual partnerships I could imagine. She said. “well, he’s a friend, but it’s not a date, but I am hoping it becomes a date”. From this I surmised that it was an Internet date, set up on one of the many online dating sites. I came to this conclusion because they obviously did not know each other, but she appeared to have high hopes for this meeting.
I have to report that online dating was a complete disaster for me. When I say disaster, I mean a disaster akin to never being able to eat fried oysters again. Of course, I feel that I might have shot my online dating wad, so to speak, because I met G through a dating service, the precursor to Internet dating sites. We have stayed connected for almost twenty years, so I do understand that these types of services can be beneficial and I understand that many of you have had good experiences. With that said, I am overjoyed that I never have to go on another horrible Internet date and, as I listened to his continued prattlings and her shy efforts to add something to the conversation and watched as the man walked in front of the woman, never looking back at her as they made their way to his car, I shook my head and wondered if chivalry is really dead or only taking a small vacation.
Now the folks are starting to drift in for the party. It’s a good-natured crowd with a variety of ages, but most folks seem to be in their 30s and there are a few kids around 10 or 12. It is always so interesting to me how quickly these groups become segregated with the men and women in different groups. And, of course, a group of about four women formed the dreaded Surround at my table—backs to me, but completely blocking my table so that I cannot stand up. And, of course, my only view is of their backsides.
This irritates me to no end, especially when I am not fortunate enough to be getting ready to leave. I do not understand why people think that because one person is sitting at the table, that person is not entitled to the right to breathe, see the other patrons, and not have someone’s rear end in her food.
I stood up and said sharply, “excuse me” and gave them each a baleful stare which is not a pleasant experience for them or me. They just kept chatting, exchanging their scintillating stories. I said, again very sharply, “please get out of my way so that I might exit the restaurant”. They barely moved and kept chatting with each other. So, I looked over at their husbands and smiled my most ingratiating smile and rolled my eyes in amusement at their silly wives. The husbands were waving and saying, “have a great evening” and “you have had so much fun over there by yourself’. You better believe the women let me through and they were as quiet as little sheep. The husbands were still waving.
Well, this little encounter did raise my blood pressure just a little because I am not a fan of groups of women behaving so badly.
But, I was determined to stroll down the brick sidewalk to the Cocowalk theaters in a placid and calm manner. I continued on to the movie which had just the right amount of people (about 30% full) so that I felt comfortable, but not overwhelmed and, even though the movie did not have much of a story, I enjoyed the excellent set details that Ang Lee provided and it was all very pleasant. Which is just what I wanted.
Then I strolled home under a beautiful Miami moon and thanked myself for the lovely evening.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Family of One-Introduction
I spend a lot of time alone. I mean, a LOT.
I live alone, I work from a home office, and I live in a city where I have many lovely acquaintances, but no close friends. I have no spouse, no children, no siblings. My parents and my aunt live 800 miles away; they are 87, 90, and 93 and, while they are in reasonably good shape, they do not form what could be called a support network.
I used to dread seeing the look that would cross the faces of folks that I met on a plane or a business meal or at church when they heard that I had no spouse, no children, no siblings, elderly parents. I used to dread the invitations to “bring your family” to the Doodad Festival and “make sure to bring enough food for your family to share”. I won’t even give you the list of epithets that escaped my lips when I heard about couples-only and family-only events. And, the thought of a weekend alone with no plans would always remind me to focus on the fact that, one day, there would be someone with whom to share everything.
A few years ago, I was consumed with the thought of becoming an orphan. I fretted endlessly about what would become of me when I no longer had my parents .I had recently gone through a break-up with my boyfriend of nine years and, shortly thereafter, I lost my job which had been my primary form of self-identification for 20 years.
Then, things got even worse.
I have since read that all of us go through a period usually in our 40s/50s called “the rapids”when we are coping with a great amount of loss/changes in a short time and that the tumult can be almost overwhelming. Demons are unleashed, problems appear unsolvable, and hope is in very short supply. I thought long and hard about what was the point of any of what we call our lives.
As horrible as that time was, I learned a lot about leaning on yourself, knowing whom to trust, and savoring the serendipitous moments that lead you back into the light.
I realized that I had been living in a state of suspended longing, thinking that I would not always be saying that I was alone. And, then, I realized what a wonderful gift it truly is to have this freedom. I started looking on those empty weekends as wonderful opportunities to read or sleep or cook or watch 50s sitcoms, all of the things we say that we will do one day. I realized that even if something did happen to my parents, it would be OK if I happened to be strolling down the Via Giuliana and I began traveling to, well, pretty much wherever I felt like going. I started saying “no” when the church called me to prepare a dish for—you know---a family.
It dawned on me that I was a family---a Family of One. It made a lot of sense and I was shocked that I had not thought about it sooner. I had actually gone down the road of joining “groups” and becoming part of “communities”. But, if you have ever been around me in a group of more than about six or seven, you will realize that I sometimes seem distracted. This is because my brain is doing this kind of exploding thing trying to take everything in. I had always thought that I might have some kind of unusual mental disability that could be found in the DSM III.
Of course, upon thinking it through, I realized being alone was a pretty natural state for me—after all, I had spent my formative years alone as an only child with only a visit from a cousin every couple of years; the first nine years of my career on the road, driving, eating, hanging out alone; and lived most of my life on my own. Why it was a miracle that I was even walking around!
So, being comfortable alone made perfect sense and I stopped all of that nonsense about trying to make myself happy in a large group of people. I finally understood that I was happy to go out by myself and talk with interesting people that I met and observe the human condition while having a wonderful meal or strolling through a museum.
Before you start thinking I am getting all Lifetime Movie on you, just think about the people you know who are single and, if you are single yourself, think of how much fun (and support) we can have talking about ourselves in such an optimistic way.
Every week or so, I’ll write a piece about—mostly—the joys of being a Family of One—my favorite experiences. But, of course, I’ll have to let you know some of the irritations and pensive moments as well.
Upcoming Posts—(suggestions welcome)—include----
Family of One Goes to Eleven Madison Park (latest four-star restaurant in NYC)
Family of One Attends a New Church
Family of One Sends Scathing Looks to Miscreants at the Biltmore Gym
Family of One Sees Ponyo
Family of One Plans a 60th Anniversary Celebration for the Parental Units
I live alone, I work from a home office, and I live in a city where I have many lovely acquaintances, but no close friends. I have no spouse, no children, no siblings. My parents and my aunt live 800 miles away; they are 87, 90, and 93 and, while they are in reasonably good shape, they do not form what could be called a support network.
I used to dread seeing the look that would cross the faces of folks that I met on a plane or a business meal or at church when they heard that I had no spouse, no children, no siblings, elderly parents. I used to dread the invitations to “bring your family” to the Doodad Festival and “make sure to bring enough food for your family to share”. I won’t even give you the list of epithets that escaped my lips when I heard about couples-only and family-only events. And, the thought of a weekend alone with no plans would always remind me to focus on the fact that, one day, there would be someone with whom to share everything.
A few years ago, I was consumed with the thought of becoming an orphan. I fretted endlessly about what would become of me when I no longer had my parents .I had recently gone through a break-up with my boyfriend of nine years and, shortly thereafter, I lost my job which had been my primary form of self-identification for 20 years.
Then, things got even worse.
I have since read that all of us go through a period usually in our 40s/50s called “the rapids”when we are coping with a great amount of loss/changes in a short time and that the tumult can be almost overwhelming. Demons are unleashed, problems appear unsolvable, and hope is in very short supply. I thought long and hard about what was the point of any of what we call our lives.
As horrible as that time was, I learned a lot about leaning on yourself, knowing whom to trust, and savoring the serendipitous moments that lead you back into the light.
I realized that I had been living in a state of suspended longing, thinking that I would not always be saying that I was alone. And, then, I realized what a wonderful gift it truly is to have this freedom. I started looking on those empty weekends as wonderful opportunities to read or sleep or cook or watch 50s sitcoms, all of the things we say that we will do one day. I realized that even if something did happen to my parents, it would be OK if I happened to be strolling down the Via Giuliana and I began traveling to, well, pretty much wherever I felt like going. I started saying “no” when the church called me to prepare a dish for—you know---a family.
It dawned on me that I was a family---a Family of One. It made a lot of sense and I was shocked that I had not thought about it sooner. I had actually gone down the road of joining “groups” and becoming part of “communities”. But, if you have ever been around me in a group of more than about six or seven, you will realize that I sometimes seem distracted. This is because my brain is doing this kind of exploding thing trying to take everything in. I had always thought that I might have some kind of unusual mental disability that could be found in the DSM III.
Of course, upon thinking it through, I realized being alone was a pretty natural state for me—after all, I had spent my formative years alone as an only child with only a visit from a cousin every couple of years; the first nine years of my career on the road, driving, eating, hanging out alone; and lived most of my life on my own. Why it was a miracle that I was even walking around!
So, being comfortable alone made perfect sense and I stopped all of that nonsense about trying to make myself happy in a large group of people. I finally understood that I was happy to go out by myself and talk with interesting people that I met and observe the human condition while having a wonderful meal or strolling through a museum.
Before you start thinking I am getting all Lifetime Movie on you, just think about the people you know who are single and, if you are single yourself, think of how much fun (and support) we can have talking about ourselves in such an optimistic way.
Every week or so, I’ll write a piece about—mostly—the joys of being a Family of One—my favorite experiences. But, of course, I’ll have to let you know some of the irritations and pensive moments as well.
Upcoming Posts—(suggestions welcome)—include----
Family of One Goes to Eleven Madison Park (latest four-star restaurant in NYC)
Family of One Attends a New Church
Family of One Sends Scathing Looks to Miscreants at the Biltmore Gym
Family of One Sees Ponyo
Family of One Plans a 60th Anniversary Celebration for the Parental Units
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