there is a short story, “look at her”, that i read once, in a group of short stories by neil labute, one of the few i enjoyed in that book. about a young man, at a hollywood party, surrounded by a bevy of beautiful hollywood girls, young, firm, standard for the time and place, his attention is captured by the wife of the host, clad in a black dress and her own sense of who she is in life. “look at her” he states. she’s the one he focuses on, and follows into the kitchen, because you never know what will happen.
most men go after those young wombs, the lithe limbs, the high breasts (real or not) of the twenty year old, not knowing how they scoff in the bathrooms of these men, laughing, calling them names, or speculating how they will take advantage of the wealth or position. i always smile over the conversations, watching them adjust their dresses, apply the lipstick, eye themselves; predators stalking the predators. then, i go out to the man who has the rare good sense to date a woman his age, finding interest in a woman who can talk to him, as well as be a companion in all places. our sex life is as stimulating as theirs, i will wager. afterwards, we move on to a variety of other things, including more sex–interspaced with laughter, conversation and the knowledge we are well matched in life experience.
this makes for a comfortable relationship on both sides. we are lovers, friends, companions. i do not worry about a number of issues with him, nor does he concern himself with various things with me; we are at ease. there is no push to procreate, no hustle to marry, no pressure to meet parents–we are both orphans by now in life’s plan. we both are financially secure, so there is nothing to worry about there, either.
look at me. i am fortysomething, attractive, intelligent, droll, respected in my field, and, comfortable with who i am. this entire blog thing is a part of the journey.
annomoninity has it’s advantages.
look at her 