Knit Sisters

Since you brought it up, Sarah, yes, plans are in the works for the lovely handspun sock yarn you gave me. I am considering Lorinda’s interesting suggestion about a Fibonacci sequence and also taking inspiration from Sensational Knitted Socks, a book my sister and I both heartily endorse. Stayed tuned…

Wedding plans consumed part of our weekend, which is not unusual these days. As I’m sure anyone who has had a wedding knows, these are events which, though joyous, are both time consuming and expensive.

Wedding gown with chapel train: $950
Elbow length veil purchased in a fit of enthusiasm and cheerful hypocrisy: $149.99
Initial deposit on wedding site: $400
Deposit on reception site: $1000
Finding the right man:

Priceless

Never having to date again: Also priceless

Because now that I’ve kind of settled into the reality of being engaged, I’ve realized in a deep and full and gleeful way that I never have to go on any more dates. I don’t have to do Match.com ever again. I don’t have to suffer the various insults and disappointments that—ladies, let’s be frank—men will deal out if you spend any time dating.

Except for a very wrong “starter” marriage that lasted barely three years, I was single and dating until I was 35 years old. There were times when I was involved with someone for six months, or a year, or a year and a half, but there were also many, many moons during which I was dating. Hard core, soul-sucking dating.

Let me be clear: there were many wonderful things about being a single woman living, for most of those years, in NYC. I loved having my own space, time to read and think, time to train my dog, the companionship of wonderful friends, the whole big, energetic, uncompromising city to explore on my own terms. But I did not love dating.

The experience of being single well into your adulthood is one for which our culture does not prepare you well. As the years wear on without finding your mate, you find yourself sometimes hopeful, sometimes in despair, sometimes indifferent, but always walking a tightrope. On one side is your big, rich, terrific life with friends, and work, and knitting, and a beloved dog, and a marvelous sister and parents. On the other (if you are a person who would prefer ideally to be part of a couple) is a big yawning gap where your mate is supposed to be. Sometimes you barely notice the gap. Sometimes you put a significant amount of energy into filling that gap. Maybe finally you decide that the gap will always be there so you may as well jump down off the rope and into your big, rich life and just forget all about what life might be like if you weren’t on your own.

But the rope is still there. The longing for a soulmate does not disappear even when you turn your head away from it.

No one likes to talk about this because we’re told that we have to be happy in ourselves before we can be with someone else, that we need to be self-sufficient, and these things are to a great degree true. But the reality is that very few people are prepared to go through life alone and do it completely happily. And I am here to tell you that even the single person who has, like I did, a terrific, busy life and is mostly cheerful and upbeat and optimistic has moments of complete despair during which she thinks she is going to be alone forever. It isn’t pretty, but it is real.

It’s a little crazy-making, this living in the full, present reality of your life alone, but also keeping your ear to the ground and a finger in the wind for signs of your mate. Even if you do yoga, that’s a tough pose to hold. It takes a lot of energy.

And sometimes the men you meet really don’t help.

One thing my years of dating gave me was a treasure-trove of stories. How about the guy from Match.com who, thirty minutes into our first and only phone conversation, said, “So…you look really cute and athletic in your photos on your profile. Exactly how much do your weigh?”

In retrospect, the correct response would have been, “You seemed reasonably intelligent in your profile. Exactly what is your IQ?”

Or the guy who, after three dates, announced at the end of dinner that he didn’t think that we wanted “the same things in life.” I said, “Oh, yes, well, since you barely know me, what would those be?”

He responded, “Well, when I’m involved with a woman I want her to be mostly focused on me, on my interests, and on what I want to do. I don’t think you are that kind of woman.”

Fair enough. He saved me a lot of time right there. Now, interestingly, he had spent a goodly amount of time during our second date telling me about “the nightmare” he had just lived through with his previous “crazy” girlfriend, with whom he had shared an apartment. He said she was so clingy that in order to break up with her, he had to sneak out of their apartment with only those personal effects that he could fit into a suitcase while she was at work and move into the YMCA until she lost his trail.

You gets what you pays for, Mr. Center-of-the-Universe.

And the stories go on and on. While you are going through all this—all this enervating meeting and spending time with men who do not treasure you, do not value who you are, and do not find you attractive—people offer advice and commentary in an attempt to be helpful: “You have to look for a husband like it is a second job.” “You are too picky.” “You’ll never find anyone because you are too romantic. You have to be more realistic.” “Have you tried online dating?”

The frustrating thing is, there isn’t any formula for how I got from 35 and alone with no likely prospects for a husband to 38 and happily engaged to a man so perfect for me that I could hardly have done better if I had invented him myself. None. I could tell you how it happened, but all I would be telling you is how I lived my life and how my luck finally turned. Not exactly generalizable. I can tell you this, though: in spite of all that well-meant advice, I didn’t find him by lowering my standards, becoming less romantic, or by looking for him “like a second job.”

For some of us, finding the right person requires a longer journey than for others. We just have to take all we can from the travelling and trust our instincts.

No matter where we are in our lives though, knitting, books, friends, family, and dogs make everything just a little bit better, a little bit more vivid. Here’s Rogue with her growing hood, cosying up to Sensational Knitted Socks:

From the side:

And her close-up:

On Wednesday, expect a little discussion of Rogue’s sleeves…and the challenge they pose.

This entry was posted on Monday, July 17th, 2006 at 8:15 am and is filed under Bridezilla. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.