I own a string of failed relationships. The truth is, I'll never be one of those columnists who give advice to the lovelorn. But I do know how to live alone, and how to craft a beautiful and interesting life. It isn't always easy, but I've managed to maintain friendships with most of the men I've loved and who have loved me. Am I too difficult? Too independent? Too needy? Too whatever? Of course, and so were they. That's why it didn't work out. But if nothing else, I'm a good friend. This last break-up was especially tough. I'm 62. I gave away my last 5 years to someone who liked having me around on occasion, but did not want to create a partnership with me. I was pleasant, and he knew I loved him. He had more money than me, so he afforded me travel and an Upper East Side - Hamptons slice of life that I never would have experienced on my own. I considered those years my last pretty years. I figured that, once we settled in together, I would become an attractive, beloved, older woman. Well, now those years are gone and so is he, and I have to begin again from scratch as an unattached, older woman. Let's hope there's something still attractive left. After all, it takes years to develop a relationship into something that could become permanent. At least, that's what I believed until now. But, like I said earlier, I'm not an expert on romantic relationships. I simply know that time is running out, and the availability of men I might find attractive has dwindled, making it difficult for the romantic scenario to run its course. I'm in this life-game for joy, not suffering or settling. So... I'm off and running on Going It Solo. My income isn't exactly conducive to a life of high living and exotic travel. On the other hand, I love my work and wouldn't cash in the hours of my life for high-paying drudgery. Life. Is. Short. You've heard it thousands of times, but pay attention! Wasting a year of my life on grief for a man who didn't want me is so profoundly absurd, that I can only shrug and say, "What the fuck? I worry about losing time, and then I give it away to moping and crying? Get a life, woman. It didn't work out the way you wanted. So what. Grow from the experience, and move on." But, in a way, this grief has done me an immense favor. I've had a long stretch of time to think about the next and what, at best, will be my final 40 years.
My motto used to be: Craft a beautiful and interesting life. As of today, it's a little more fundamental: Make each day feel good. I've had a damned interesting life, and I appreciate the beauty in sights and sounds that stir my heart to the point of bursting. It's been a good run, and the peak moments I've enjoyed will continue to leave me gasping in wonder, but they also left gaping holes in the unremarkable calendar on either end. The daily pleasure I seek now is the steady kind that warms one's soul, and lies closer to home than foreign landmarks. It isn't a skip from one grand adventure to another. I want to embrace the intimacy that comes from sharing private thoughts, the warmth of mutual admiration, and the feel of a loving touch on one's arm... in short, friendship. For reasons unknown, romantic love has eluded me. It's okay. Today, I wave the white flag over my dreams of partnership, and hoist the colors of freedom. Alone, I am surrounded by loving souls who have their partners standing beside them, but still care about me. I will continue to love, unabashedly, the men upon whom I once lavished what I thought would be my life, but I take that life back now, holding firmly onto my selfhood, my singular accomplishments, and my sometimes inexplicable optimism. I will take advantage of my ongoing passion for extraordinary experiences, but I make this promise to myself: Each day, I wholeheartedly welcome the beauty, love and joy in whatever comes my way. The purpose of each and every day is to feel good.
~ Colleen
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