Being a modern woman is hard, but I don’t complain. I can multi-task with the best of them. My skills at ordering clothes from the GAP online while sipping a nice Pinot are tremendous. I can plan a day of errands that will take me in a loop, with all destinations on the right side of the road, no back tracking, finishing with food shopping for the perishables last, no left turns. Sometimes I even have enough gas to complete my mission. Yes, I can understand that my superior OCD skills can really work for me here. What I find however is that the running of my life sometimes is just too much. The tasks of putting food in the house, doing the laundry, cooking, cleaning, making appoints for teeth, doctors, car repair along with follow ups to insurance companies, handy men for fix its, accountants, lawyers, and bookies is over whelming. I am not even addressing the up-keep of any number of beauty professionals a woman might need to see for things like haircuts, colorist, then you may have extensions, weaves, perms etc… Then we have manicures, pedicures, bonsai for the nether region, facials, eye bow shaping, tanning, etc. Sometimes it is too difficult to have a job and fit in the rest of my life.
An example of this is dry cleaning. I rarely buy anything that needs to be dry cleaned as it can be a 3 month process for me. After wearing my outfit which now needs to be dry cleaned I drape it over a chair in my bedroom. A week later it moves to a chair in my dining room near my purse so I remember to move it to the car. It stays in the dining room for approximately 2 weeks. It then migrates to the car where it has a stay anywhere of 2 days to 2 weeks depending on the routing of errands and dry cleaner placement. The garment finally makes it into the dry cleaner. Unfortunately this is a type of prison for my clothes. I hate paying the money to get them sprung. So in addition to routing my way there on any given errand day, I have to be willing to part with the cash that could otherwise go towards a burrito for dinner. Sometimes I just drive by and wave so they know I am thinking about them. Lastly comes the release day which is generally 2 to 3 months after the gala event I attended where I dropped cocktail sauce on myself. As a side note cocktail sauce can be the familiar horseradish and ketchup shrimp type or a vodka martini… a euphemism by any other name, it’s all tricky.
When you are wealthy you can solve these problems by hiring a personal assistant to manage the day-to-day chores of your life. When you are a man, you get married. However, when you are a modern woman you are screwed. What I realized is I needed to get married. But I don’t want any stinking modern woman, I need is a 1950’s housewife. I want Donna Reed, June Cleaver, hell Maude would do and be pretty butch to boot. I want dinner waiting for me, a clean house, and a cold martini on a tray. Someone to call the insurance company to make inquiries and be available when the cable or repair man leaves me a window of 72 hours. I am a single straight girl who longs for the days I saw on TV growing up. I don’t want a modern wife, I am that, I need someone who can vacuum in pearls, makes bread from scratch, and will sleep in a separate bed like on the I Love Lucy show.
Even if I were a lesbian I wouldn’t hold out hope of finding a 1950’s housewife. I was given that opportunity some years ago while living inAustin. I was out with some friends for drinks after returning from a business trip. Two of my friends, Tony and Gale had had a particularly bad week while I was gone so I made what I called “life kits” for them. In the bags were chocolates, bubbles, incense, bath salts, just small things that would make them smile. They laughed and joked as they opened each little gift in the bag. Gales ex girlfriend was there visiting and was blown away with my gesture. On the way out of the restaurant the ex-girlfriend, who’s name I can’t remember, but should, came up to me and said how thoughtful that was and how great I was.
She then said, “Will you marry me?”
I was shocked and flattered, being the smart ass I am told her “Come back with a ring and we’ll talk”.
A second later Gail grabbed her ex by the arm and dragged her away. The ex then approached me looking somewhat embarrassed as we got closer to the cars and said.
“I am so sorry; I didn’t realize you were straight. I hope I didn’t offend you, or make you uncomfortable”.
“You didn’t, and what I said still goes come back with a ring and we’ll talk”
My last comment drew laughter from everyone in the group within earshot. How could I have been offended that someone found me delightful? Hell, I find me delightful. When someone asks for your hand in marriage, flirts, does anything along these lines it is a compliment no matter how you cut it. Just because we didn’t play on the same team didn’t negate the fact I am a catch! But the best I could have hoped for in that union was to become a 1950’s housewife though my aversion to cleaning, and penchant for melting the knobs on my stove when cooking did not bode well for that being a successful endeavor. Plus I don’t think she would have gone for the separate beds.
So, I seem to be stuck taking care of me, a modern woman. When I notice my house is dirty and I don’t have the time or energy to clean it, I use candle light. When I make something so inedible even I can’t choke it down, I dial Lugi’s Pizzeria and make sure there are lots of veggies on it. When I have a list of chores a mile long I look at them with a critical eye, making sure there are at least 1 or 2 fun ones sprinkled in the day. I doubt that on my deathbed I will be worried that I left my silk skirt in the big house.