I was talking on the phone with my friend --- let’s call her Penelope. She and I met on the Upper East Side of New York City at one of the various clubs and bars we all frequented back then. I was always dating a guy she just broke up with or vice versa. Needless to say, we had a lot to talk about! And she was often my consult, in the ladies room, when I was unsure whether to give one of them my real phone number or the number I had concocted starting with the Jersey City area code. Manhattan boys never, not ever, crossed rivers. She met her husband, Jake when she worked in retail at Bloomingdale’s. Yes, back then retail was another great way to meet a guy. Main floor accessories brought a plethora of prospects your way for birthdays and Valentine’s Day gifts. I even heard that guys made believe they had girlfriends in order to meet sales associates, but that might be urban myth. Anyway…
“I feel so shallow” I whined into the phone. “I look at the pictures, trying to imagine them as the young, sexy studs they might have been then but only conger up dry heaves!” “What happened to all those guys I didn’t get to date? You know the one’s that liked straight-haired blondes with breasts. Now that I have those things, where are they, huh? Huh? Are they all still married? Dead? Gay?”
“Look Samantha”, somehow Penelope sounded exasperated already and we had just begun this conversation, “You’re living in a fantasy. With Kevin dead and you surrounded by pictures of the young, dashing and dangerous man he once was, you’ve forgotten the old man you lived with the last years of his life”. She had a point, when I thought about Kevin I rarely saw him as he had been at the end, when an aide at the hospital asked if I was his daughter. I always saw him as he was in his 30s or 40s.
“Look at Jake”, Penelope’s voice forced its way to my attention. “Remember that gorgeous head of blond hair – now – what hair? And that cute butt of his when he wore those 501 button-flys? Well what with his prostate problems, he’s taken to wearing elastic sweatpants so there’s no risk of an accident…”
Oh, boy, I had gotten her started and if past experience was any guide, she would drone on about the tiniest of Jake’s imperfections without needing me to utter a yep, I know, or an oh really … and like a Gregorian chanter she was off.
And so I drifted. I began thinking about accepting reality. After all, I wasn’t the woman I once was either. Sure I worked at keeping my body in shape, never allowed my grey roots to expose themselves and was careful to accentuate my best features be it with clothes or make-up. But the truth was I was 60 and try as I may, the lines, lumps and sags were evident to me and of course, to them too. We all do the best we can. Or do we? This brings me to a couple of pet peeves I do have about older men (not necessarily older than me – but certainly older than they ever thought they would be). So listen up guys if you are reading this. This is important!
Every man should think, think, think about what they are wearing in their profile pictures. Shorts with clunky white sneakers and white socks are NOT appealing. Black shirts with light ties and shark skin suits were even out when “The Soprano's” was on TV. And no more unstructured jackets like Don Johnson wore in Miami Vice - honey that was the 80's! Remember Frank Zappa's Brown Shoes Don't Make It? Well, polyester suits, ill-fitting jeans and white pants with a webbed belt don't make it either. Think back to what you would not have been caught dead wearing, then look down and if you are wearing it - take it off immediately!
“...then did I tell you that his carpal tunnel is back and he can’t write a check...” Penelope’s voice came back into focus. “...and he told me his osteopath wants him to stop bending over ...” then drifted out again.
So guys, item number two: what’s this hair thing? Almost every man over the age of 55 has facial hair. It is either a mustache or beard or in many cases, both. Now I don't mind the ones that are well trimmed and even look kinda cool -like the "5 o'clock" shadow" or "3 day old growth" look. But then there is the handle-bar mustache or the long scraggly beard that meets up with ear hair, obscures lips and has not been trimmed in months. Listen guys, ladies don't want to kiss hair! They don't want to have to think about what you ate that might still be in that hair and they don't want to get poked in the eye by a waxed mustache. And don't get me started on the sideburns...are you Ricardo Montalban? “De Plane, De Plane!”
Penelope’s voice pierced my thoughts “...and his sinus infection is back, he's snoring again and sleeping with his mouth open, drooling on my Frette linens…”
Finally guys, if you are tightened – you know, surgically nipped and tucked - please, please do not do the tanning bed thing or worse yet the Coppertone yellow tint thing. It emphasizes the tiny scars, makes your skin look shiny and waxy and worse than that makes you look like you need to have your kidney’s checked.
I tuned back into Penelope’s chant “…so the pocket rocket’s batteries died and we spent the rest of the hour looking for an AA cell, but by the time we found one the hockey game had started and I went to wash the dishes. Samantha, are you listening to me?”
“Of course" I quickly responded,“You know Penelope, you are so lucky you still have Jake in your life.”
“I know” she sighed, her voice getting soft and wispy, “I love that man.”
See you next time.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Sex and the 60 - A Mountain House Valentine - circa 1985
It is fitting that the first serious snow that we received in many years was on February 10….what would have been my 3rd wedding anniversary. I watched the flakes accumulate slowly at first than with a fury…bringing back so many snowy winters that seemed so uneventful, so normal, so humdrum, but now I realize they were the irreplaceable days of our life together - priceless times the loss of which has dug a deep, deep hole in my heart. Times that cannot be replaced, and the hole never filled, but times that can so clearly be recalled.
When Kevin was a boy, his mother used to take him to a large old hotel in upstate New York – once a year – always in the winter. There she and her girlfriends would spend the week writing stories and acting them out – all aspiring actresses they. And Kevin would be free to explore the then 7000 acres of property along the crest of the Shawangunk Mountains, building ice boats with bed sheets and pieces of plywood to sail the frozen lake and climbing the scrambles and sheer cliffs of the labyrinth. He fell in love with the place and went back often throughout his life. It was and still is one of the most romantic and beautiful places on earth. It is Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz New York the location of one spectacular Valentine’s week Kevin and I spent together - A memory at the same time impossible to forget and most difficult to remember.
Now, the current Mohonk Mountain House is very different than the one I remember. The original house was built in 1869 and in 1985 it was not the popular and expensive year round resort it is today – no spa, no conference center, no swimming pools and no ice skating rink. It was at that time run by members of the Smiley Family – descendents of the founders. They were not venture capitalists, or marketers or people who had hotelier experience outside of Mohonk. They lived at the hotel, treated the staff and guests as family and did not seem to care that on that week - a week that nowadays would see the current 265 fully renovated rooms completely booked - only 11 guests registered at the hotel.
They greeted us at the portico with hot chocolate and music and our luggage was brought up to our room. It, not renovated as the rooms are now, had a private bath - not many did back then – with an original deep claw foot tub and large pedestal sink. There were 2 twin beds in the room which we quickly moved together right in front of the fireplace already stocked with wood and kindling. They refilled your wood pile each morning and if you wanted more – you paid an additional $2 per load – we ordered more – lots more!). The view from the room was of the lake and off to the right was a small doorway leading out to a tiny balcony set with 2 rocking chairs. Not a radio, television, telephone, computer terminal or any other electronic device present at all. If you suspended belief you would know you were Lara in Dr. Zhivago.
And so began that glorious week – it was Kevin and I alone, with nothing but time – time to explore the lake - a brisk walk every morning in the snow before breakfast, a hike with crampons on our boots up to the Tower – dual headphones plugged into the Walkman listening to Phil Collins singing “In the Air Tonight” (far out!), a frozen rear end from tubing, breathlessly hiking to the top of the hill just to fling ourselves down again. A magnificent sleigh ride courtesy of one of the staff – just the two of us covered with heavy blankets, the flying snow stinging our cheeks and freezing immediately on our wool hats, and coat shoulders, with the sound of the jingling bells, the horse’s hoofs muffled on the snow and the white and green landscape rushing by as we were taken on trails deep in the woods. And, of course, time to explore each other ---- yes, it was Valentine’s week and the exploration went on continuously – at waking, after lunch, before dinner and then after lighting the fire…both of us all dressed in our “dinner finery”. A slow and sweet seduction….every time, one more time….
Happy Valentine’s Day to you all….May today bring you this kind of memory for your tomorrow.
When Kevin was a boy, his mother used to take him to a large old hotel in upstate New York – once a year – always in the winter. There she and her girlfriends would spend the week writing stories and acting them out – all aspiring actresses they. And Kevin would be free to explore the then 7000 acres of property along the crest of the Shawangunk Mountains, building ice boats with bed sheets and pieces of plywood to sail the frozen lake and climbing the scrambles and sheer cliffs of the labyrinth. He fell in love with the place and went back often throughout his life. It was and still is one of the most romantic and beautiful places on earth. It is Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz New York the location of one spectacular Valentine’s week Kevin and I spent together - A memory at the same time impossible to forget and most difficult to remember. 
It was 1985 and by then Kevin and I had been together (again and again, if you remember) for just over 4 years - still learning about each other and still very much unable to keep our hands off each other (boy that never did change!) He had taken me to Mohonk on several day-hiking trips in the spring and fall, but we never stayed at the hotel and therefore never drove up to the House, as all day trippers’ cars had to remain down below. I remember it had snowed lightly all the way up the NYS Thruway and the Wallkill River in New Paltz was completely frozen. As we headed up the mountain, the snow cover deepened and a mist began to close in around the car. Kevin excitedly began to prepare me for the sight of the House as we rounded a bend. Only those that have had the House revealed this way understand the wondrous sight. As we made the last turn and the mist cleared it came into view. It was like entering a Victorian novel. The jumble of architecture of the gigantic house which in its many wings once held over 400 individual rooms was introduced by a snow covered front garden that flowed down to the frozen lake deep in a basin of sheer cliffs and dense forest. Dotting the landscape were roughly built gazebos some connected by wooden walkways and far up above the cliff, a lookout Tower – a challenge to get up there clearly calling.
They greeted us at the portico with hot chocolate and music and our luggage was brought up to our room. It, not renovated as the rooms are now, had a private bath - not many did back then – with an original deep claw foot tub and large pedestal sink. There were 2 twin beds in the room which we quickly moved together right in front of the fireplace already stocked with wood and kindling. They refilled your wood pile each morning and if you wanted more – you paid an additional $2 per load – we ordered more – lots more!). The view from the room was of the lake and off to the right was a small doorway leading out to a tiny balcony set with 2 rocking chairs. Not a radio, television, telephone, computer terminal or any other electronic device present at all. If you suspended belief you would know you were Lara in Dr. Zhivago.
Redressed for the weather, we went down to the lobby and looked at the bulletin board which had a list of all guests and their room numbers (try that today), an index card with the weather forecast – snow showers, snow showers and snow showers for the foreseeable future along with an activities schedule – weather permitting – tubing down the hill, cross country skiing, ice skating on the lake, a movie (to be announced) screened in a small dayroom on a 30” television set, the greenhouse – paper whites on sale, tea served daily at 4 pm. in the Lake Room, horse drawn sleigh rides, a concert by the Elis, the Yale acapella choir. But for those less energetic a myriad of large and inviting club chairs set around well tended fires throughout the house and 3 delicious meals a day served in the small Dining Room (no bar – bring your own and drink in your room) could fill your days. Oh, yes, dressing for dinner – mandatory – men in jackets, ladies in skirts!
And so began that glorious week – it was Kevin and I alone, with nothing but time – time to explore the lake - a brisk walk every morning in the snow before breakfast, a hike with crampons on our boots up to the Tower – dual headphones plugged into the Walkman listening to Phil Collins singing “In the Air Tonight” (far out!), a frozen rear end from tubing, breathlessly hiking to the top of the hill just to fling ourselves down again. A magnificent sleigh ride courtesy of one of the staff – just the two of us covered with heavy blankets, the flying snow stinging our cheeks and freezing immediately on our wool hats, and coat shoulders, with the sound of the jingling bells, the horse’s hoofs muffled on the snow and the white and green landscape rushing by as we were taken on trails deep in the woods. And, of course, time to explore each other ---- yes, it was Valentine’s week and the exploration went on continuously – at waking, after lunch, before dinner and then after lighting the fire…both of us all dressed in our “dinner finery”. A slow and sweet seduction….every time, one more time….
Like everything, that week came to an end, and work deadlines, supermarkets, traffic, bills, sickness and eventually chemotherapy, radiation, helplessness and hopelessness took its place. But, if there is a heaven, that is where I will go…I hope Kevin is there laying the fire and wearing that suede blazer, his white shirt, carefully ironed jeans and Gucci loafers, pouring me a Vodka on the rocks with plenty of olives and ready for an eternity of that……
Happy Valentine’s Day to you all….May today bring you this kind of memory for your tomorrow.Saturday, February 6, 2010
Sex and the 60 – The Petite Case of the Munchkin
I had a marriage proposal this week. Yes – 3 dates and 1 proposal. I think that qualifies as a busy week. Actually I think it kicked me back into the swing of things. You know how depressing things have been for the last few weeks….but now, fresh chum for the dating waters. I’m back swimming with purpose.
So, let me tell you about this marriage proposal. You know in the old days you had to get pregnant to get them to marry you. Boy are these the same guys we chased when we were in our 20’s and 30’s? What happened to them? Were they eradiated and lost their “single” gene? Or did we women do such a great job of taking care of them that they are finally admitting that they can’t live without us? It is a little weird. And speaking of little, that is a great segue into this week’s marriage proposal – the Petite Case of the Munchkin.
It started with a simple email telling me that he wanted to make me laugh uncontrollably. Many prospects write about their ability to make me laugh because in my profile I say that there is nothing sexier than a funny man. Hmmm, perhaps it needs a rewrite. I would like to laugh with someone, not at them (Oh, she is so superior!!!). But, I need to be open and willing to review all opportunities – at least that is what the Tarot cards say. So I read his profile and found a bit of humor, some serious background – a retired state government worker, a few marriages and a few kids, nothing unpleasant here. Pictures show an average guy, not scary (and believe me there are many scary pictures out there). And so, having a slow couple of weeks and always looking for blog inspiration I plunged ahead. A voice conversation proved to be a bit boring, but he offered up one of my favorite restaurants for a dinner date – Villa Barone in Robbinsville, NJ http://www.villabaronerestaurant.com/home.html, so what the hey. Only then did I remember to look at his height.
Well, as Roseanne Roseannadanna used to say “it’s always something”. He listed himself at 5’7”. We know what that means – more likely 5’5” and under those circumstances I would wear a pair of 2 ½” heels (making me nearly 5’9”). Let’s see what kind of man he is – can he take it? As I pulled up to the restaurant I spied the Munchkin - short, fat and balding – think Danny Devito, but without the hilarious personality. Like an Amazon I strode toward him, tempted to kiss him on the head but at the last minute shook his hand instead. Once seated and engaged in dinner I found him to be a nice, mildly amusing guy who knew what he looked like but had the confidence of a man with a full head of hair and a strapping and toned 6’ 2” physique.
It was over coffee that he began his pitch. He started slow. First the compliments – I was beautiful, smart, and funny and probably could get any guy I wanted. (Hear that Chris Noth? John Corbett?). With me softened up he quietly explained that he had three ex-wives all of whom had borne him children - read: age has not decreased my prowess. He spoke of his pension and how none of the wives had yet to win a dime of it. Now that sounded like a challenge to me and I began to take note and quickly asked if he had any food allergies that I should be “concerned” about. Then he came in for the kill --- Health Insurance. He said he had a full portfolio of insurance – health, dental, vision with low deductibles and prescription drug coverage! His voice began to have a magnetic effect…like a Cobra charmer. He lilted on about the lack of a maximum lifetime payout, the low out-of-pocket, the 250 day mental health and substance abuse treatment, and a unique surgical package that might allow for cosmetic surgery. I found myself spellbound, leaning in towards him, staring into his eyes and considering whether to have my eyes done when I had my neck done… and what about perking things up a little – you know what gravity has ravaged….Hey, wait a minute. I snapped out of it. “You know”, I said, “You are a state of New Jersey retiree and my taxes are paying for that insurance for you!” “Yes”, he replied, “but marrying me entitles you to a REBATE.” I shut up. He made a lot of sense.
He settled the tab and self-assuredly stood on his tip toes to help me into my coat. Taking hold of my shoulders he whispered into my ear breathlessly, “Think about it beautiful”. “I can take care of you. Be my number four.”
It took all day to break the spell.
President Obama, get that health care reform done pronto or it will be your fault I rush into a loveless marriage, destined for divorce court and the battle of the ages for that damn pension payout! But wait, I will definitely come out of it looking like a younger Sophia Loren….Hmmmmm – Almond shaped eyes…yes, no, yes, no yes?…
So, let me tell you about this marriage proposal. You know in the old days you had to get pregnant to get them to marry you. Boy are these the same guys we chased when we were in our 20’s and 30’s? What happened to them? Were they eradiated and lost their “single” gene? Or did we women do such a great job of taking care of them that they are finally admitting that they can’t live without us? It is a little weird. And speaking of little, that is a great segue into this week’s marriage proposal – the Petite Case of the Munchkin.
It started with a simple email telling me that he wanted to make me laugh uncontrollably. Many prospects write about their ability to make me laugh because in my profile I say that there is nothing sexier than a funny man. Hmmm, perhaps it needs a rewrite. I would like to laugh with someone, not at them (Oh, she is so superior!!!). But, I need to be open and willing to review all opportunities – at least that is what the Tarot cards say. So I read his profile and found a bit of humor, some serious background – a retired state government worker, a few marriages and a few kids, nothing unpleasant here. Pictures show an average guy, not scary (and believe me there are many scary pictures out there). And so, having a slow couple of weeks and always looking for blog inspiration I plunged ahead. A voice conversation proved to be a bit boring, but he offered up one of my favorite restaurants for a dinner date – Villa Barone in Robbinsville, NJ http://www.villabaronerestaurant.com/home.html, so what the hey. Only then did I remember to look at his height.
Well, as Roseanne Roseannadanna used to say “it’s always something”. He listed himself at 5’7”. We know what that means – more likely 5’5” and under those circumstances I would wear a pair of 2 ½” heels (making me nearly 5’9”). Let’s see what kind of man he is – can he take it? As I pulled up to the restaurant I spied the Munchkin - short, fat and balding – think Danny Devito, but without the hilarious personality. Like an Amazon I strode toward him, tempted to kiss him on the head but at the last minute shook his hand instead. Once seated and engaged in dinner I found him to be a nice, mildly amusing guy who knew what he looked like but had the confidence of a man with a full head of hair and a strapping and toned 6’ 2” physique.
It was over coffee that he began his pitch. He started slow. First the compliments – I was beautiful, smart, and funny and probably could get any guy I wanted. (Hear that Chris Noth? John Corbett?). With me softened up he quietly explained that he had three ex-wives all of whom had borne him children - read: age has not decreased my prowess. He spoke of his pension and how none of the wives had yet to win a dime of it. Now that sounded like a challenge to me and I began to take note and quickly asked if he had any food allergies that I should be “concerned” about. Then he came in for the kill --- Health Insurance. He said he had a full portfolio of insurance – health, dental, vision with low deductibles and prescription drug coverage! His voice began to have a magnetic effect…like a Cobra charmer. He lilted on about the lack of a maximum lifetime payout, the low out-of-pocket, the 250 day mental health and substance abuse treatment, and a unique surgical package that might allow for cosmetic surgery. I found myself spellbound, leaning in towards him, staring into his eyes and considering whether to have my eyes done when I had my neck done… and what about perking things up a little – you know what gravity has ravaged….Hey, wait a minute. I snapped out of it. “You know”, I said, “You are a state of New Jersey retiree and my taxes are paying for that insurance for you!” “Yes”, he replied, “but marrying me entitles you to a REBATE.” I shut up. He made a lot of sense.
He settled the tab and self-assuredly stood on his tip toes to help me into my coat. Taking hold of my shoulders he whispered into my ear breathlessly, “Think about it beautiful”. “I can take care of you. Be my number four.”
It took all day to break the spell.
President Obama, get that health care reform done pronto or it will be your fault I rush into a loveless marriage, destined for divorce court and the battle of the ages for that damn pension payout! But wait, I will definitely come out of it looking like a younger Sophia Loren….Hmmmmm – Almond shaped eyes…yes, no, yes, no yes?…
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