Sex & the Single Woman: Are You an Older Single Woman?
My parents split up when I was in my pre-teens, and my mother didn’t remarry until I was 27. So for a long time, she was a single mom, and one with a busy high-powered career at that. I know it wasn’t easy for her to tackle raising three kids (my dad had us once a week and every other weekend) along with a hectic job, and still find time to date. And as kids, we weren’t the most supportive cheerleaders.
I remember sobbing once that my mom was hanging out with one boyfriend—the father of my sister’s best friend, which came in handy when the two of them broke curfew—too much. It was unfair to her, and pretty immature of me—I was in high school at the time!
When my mom was in her mid-40s, and I was in my senior year, she started dating a man who had won the lottery. The first time I met this guy, he gave me $20—just because. I immediately liked him…and his big house, and the pool and hot tub in the backyard. My little brother, the baby and resident momma’s boy, wasn’t convinced. Fondling the $20 in my pocket, I gave him a stern lecture about tolerating mom’s boyfriends, and wanting me—I mean, HER—to be happy. Eventually my mom got transferred to another town, and she, my brother, and her now-fiance moved while my sister and I got to finish out the school year in his huge house all by ourselves. It was a dream come true—until we realized that this guy was, in fact, kinda loony, overly fond of his liquor, and a major drag. We weren’t sorry to see the back of him…
…until the next guy came along. This guy looked like Alexander Gudunov, only scarier (and for anyone who’s seen “Die Hard,” that’s saying a lot). He will, however, forever remain part of our family lore, for two reasons: 1) He parked his car ON OUR LAWN, and 2) my sister swears she saw him kick her dog during Thanksgiving dinner. Next!
I thought my mom might never meet a quality guy who understood the value of a driveway. Maybe dating in your 40s and 50s was just too hard.
I was wrong. Lo and behold, she met my stepfather when he came over to clean our pool; he owned the pool cleaning company and was filling in for an employee. He’s a few years younger, too, so we like to tease my mom that she married the pool boy. A couple years later, they said their vows in Montego Boy, Jamaica as the assorted kids (her three, his two) looked on. Every night he comes home, gives her a big smooch (ignoring the grossed-out looks on our faces) and makes her a Cuba Libre before settling in for a night of DVR’d “American Idol” or “Dancing with the Stars.” From their baby talk on the phone to their cuddling on the couch, they are by and large the most nauseatingly, lovey-dovey couple I know.
And I couldn’t be happier.