Pat Taub
GUEST POST by MICHAEL STEINMAN
At the Malt Shoppe, circa 1950, the couple has two straws in the tall glass. Delicious. But what if you want your very own malted? Is that the end of the dream?
When I began online dating (2005), I had old-fashioned goals. I’d escaped an abusive marriage and dreamed of a rewarding one while I could still get my own jeans off easily, and
I met someone whom I thought was the One and Only. We talked of moving somewhere new. That long romance eroded: the O&O realized she couldn’t live with another person. Later, I tried being invaluable to one or two O&Os, buying dinner and groceries, picking up prescriptions, but without success. My servant’s uniform was always too tight. And yes, there is a residue of bitterness.
I can’t say that my stories are typical, and the O&O’s have their own versions. But as we get older, we what know what we Want and Do Not Want and are more able to say so.
Independent people know they don’t need a partner: jar openers and landscapers work just fine. Alone in the pandemic, I can date myself, but dinner’s eaten in silence. The quest for love gets harder, even with increased self-awareness. We read about sweethearts over 90, who beam at each other: good copy because they are so rare.
Failed relationships are so disheartening, and the resulting assumptions are harsh. A few years ago, a woman I’d met for the first time told me over the vindaloo that older men “only want a nurse or a purse,” which stung. (There was no second date.) Men in my decade say vile things about Those Women. Is the only defense against hurt to be alone?
Vindaloo, a favorite date dish of the author’s
A single woman friend says, “I want a relationship but I value being left alone when I choose.” My long-married sister and husband toured Turkey, and the tour guide said, “When the Turkish husband goes to work, the wife closes the door behind him and kisses it.” Is it impossible to imagine an ideal companion, friend, lover, who balances love and psychic space? A dream: two eccentrics who don’t drive each other mad, except with desire.
The answer is separate residences and shared weekends. He makes space in the closet and kitchen cupboards for her stuff; she does the same. It is much more than Friends With Benefits: two aware people balancing intimacy and freedom. Perhaps separate adjacent apartments: “Knock twice on the wall and I’ll be right over.” Pray that the relationship lasts and they don’t glare at each other in the laundry room until someone moves.
This idea also takes care of Compulsory Common Interests imposed on a partner. He wants to go to a spiritual workshop on Thursday, but she won’t miss her favorite band. They head off in separate directions. When they get home, they talk about what happened, and go to bed happy about their own pleasure and their partner’s.
But each one knows without saying it too frequently, “I love you to bits, but it’s so quiet when you go home.” Or “Your apartment is beautiful, but your chairs kill my back.” It’s Sunday night, they kiss goodbye, one Heads Home. Propinquity in sweet measured doses. Imagine the reunions! (You can only miss someone if they have the good grace to go away.)
A famous British literary couple who have lived in separate residences for decades
Consider this model: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FyCCy9_UwE. He’s broadcasting; she’s receiving; they’re thrilled. (Josephine Garrison with a Bennie Moten small group, Count Basie on piano, 1932).
Can it happen? Why not? I’ll have an egg cream.
Michael Steinman is a writer and retired English professor, who thinks his real work is his jazz blog (JAZZ LIVES), where, through videos of live performances worldwide, he “sends out love in a swinging 4 / 4.”
