Fabulous Females

That's what this site is for: a place to gather all of the ideas and observations of real women living out the drama of single life in a world of "hooking up" and "putting out." If you'd like to become a poster, just give us your email address in a comment so we can invite you in! This is a non-discriminatory place to air out your feelings, so please be constructive! We also welcome men to post insight, comments, and advice on today's culture between males and females.

Friday, October 27, 2006

At Last, a Step out of the Rut; or, Why I Love My Boss

The job is going splendidly overall -- there's a vast array of Things I Have to Know, which makes for some bad days when I either never knew or forgot them, but on the whole, it's great. All the more so because of my boss.

In the days before his marriage and taking the bar, he was a priest, and that priestly concern for others' wellbeing still permeates his character. It was his insight which convinced and freed me, finally, to rid myself of the Millstone in late August. He speaks his mind, speaks the truth, never hedges, and has excellent insight into the natures of other people.

We've had discussions in the past about the state of marriage (or non-marriage) in our society today, and why it's the way it is, and we've generally concluded that one of the reasons why people of our generation are marrying less and less and cohabiting more and more is that most of us have seen our parents screw it up in one way or another and instead of determing to do it better, have rejected the idea altogether.

Further discussions along those lines this morning led me to express my own frustration with and cynicism toward marriage, since my own propensity is to fall for guys who are, in my boss's words, losers. Particularly losers who need a great deal of mothering. Some tendency in myself, fostered as I grew up by both the model of my parents' marriage and the expectations laid on me as a kid to take care of the emotional wellbeing of everyone around me, inclines me to want to take care of guys, when that's the last thing I should do, since the guys who need the most care are the worst ones for me, and being with them leads me to exhaustion and emotional exploitation.

So I was talking with my boss about solutions to the problem. He said that that "spark" which attracts me to guys will most naturally flare up toward the losers, but that there is hope, and that while I should not choose a guy out of purely rational motivation (which would probably lead to a cold marriage), I should rationally decide what kind of guy I want, and begin to socialize with guys of that caliber. The more I associate with them, the more chance of a spark flaring up somewhere -- and, while it might need a little more fanning on my part for it to burst into flame, it will still truly be there. Meanwhile, the sparks that flare up on their own I should probably distrust and douse with a lakeful of cold water.

He then said, as he's been after me for awhile to catch a young lawyer, "Do you want a lawyer?"

I said, "Well, there are pros and cons. The pros being that they're generally intelligent, well-read, articulate, self-motivated, hardworking, attentive to detail, and ambitious. The cons being long work weeks and a lot of time away from home..."

"And they're very aggressive," he said.

"Well, I've thought for awhile that part of marriage is being able to fight well," I said. "And I'm no passive daisy myself; and I don't want a man who will fold up and back down just because I'm mad."

"Which losers would," he said. "All right. I think I need to give you some research projects in the Notre Dame Law Library. I understand that if you're not a law student, you have to have a special reason to be there. So let's give you a few."

And with that, he pulled out a legal pad and scrawled a few topics onto it and handed the paper to me.

"I need this information like I need a hole in the head, you understand," he said, "so if it takes you a few months to complete the research, that's fine."

I clasped the proffered paper and grinned at him.

"Sometimes you can float around peacefully waiting for God to cast you the worm on the hook," he said, "but a lot of times you need to be the hunter and decide what you're looking for, and determine where to find it."

And this is one of the reasons why I love my boss. Now I need to go sharpen my arrowheads (a/k/a plan out my outfits, put on makeup, look friendly and studious and utterly fabulous, and wander into the law student lounge asking promising young lawyers where to find information on Judicial Estoppel in Michigan and Indiana).

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Virtually Homeless

I have a confession to make that I’m having a difficult time even admitting to myself. Although the title of this forum is ‘Fabulous Females’ I feel about the farthest away from that denotation that one can get.
Last week I had quite the shake-up at work. I was told I was being "promoted" (suspiciously with no pay-raise and crappier hours)... when in reality, it’s a demotion. I will not go into elaborate detail at the moment, but I’m still in a state of numbness and shock, embarrassment, bitterness. The change has little to do with me or my performance, and that grandly sucks. All in all, a pretty tough blow to handle right now. This is the only job I’ve known since graduation. A gig I changed around my entire life for... in faith that it would pay off in the long run. Every day for more than two years, I’ve put way too much of myself into this endeavor. Now, looking through the rear view mirror I wonder what the heck I have to show for it. I’m thousands of miles away from family and friends, don’t have much of a spiritual or social network of people my own age, have not been in a romantic relationship in five years, and am in a state of utter confusion at the moment.
I’m positive this is God’s way of telling me to pick myself up, brush myself off, and press on. Much easier said than done. The past week has been a blur of disbelief and funkiness. Why me? I’ve worked my arse off to get where I am. I have no idea what the heck I’m doing here.
What I want is a map and a compass to tell me what the next step is. Unfortunately, I don’t think those are going to magically appear. It seems like every few years there’s some sort of shake-up in my life. My parents divorcing, moving from high school to college, moving across the country to a place I’ve barely even heard of, is that’s what’s on the horizon? As much as I crave adventure, I haven’t had much stability – ever. And strangely, I feel I really need that right now. It’s something I’ve never had. What I wouldn’t give to have it. Even if it was just for a moment.
Most everyone has a place they consider home. Whether it be a childhood residence, hometown, or a network of people they know they can cling to. It’s a haven, a constant, a safety net. Well, I have never had the privilege of knowing that, of feeling like I was truly ‘home.’ This worries me for a number of reasons. Maybe I’m too guarded of a person and can’t fully commit to people and relationships? Perhaps I’m just ‘different’ and very few people will ever understand me? Either way, whether I like it or not, changes are on the way and I need to be a big girl about it. I can’t change my situation, but I do wish there was another factor that helped to bend my decision one way or another. Right now, I’m working on making options available for myself come December 31st, which is when I am free to work on my own terms again. Your prayers would be welcome and I thank all of you for constantly listening and providing support. This blog has been a lifeline to me over the past year. =)

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

multi-facets

I've been thinking about being single. Big deal, you say; I think about that a lot. True. But I've been thinking along slightly different lines than usual.

Normally I'm venting my frustrations about my single status, wondering what is wrong with all the men, crying out to heaven that surely I don't deserve this; fuming with impatience at a situation in which I can do pretty much nothing.

But I forget the good things, the side benefits. They range from full control of the remote and music selections, to full control of the refrigerator contents, to full control of waking and bed times. I don't have to share the shower, or any of the bathroom space; my bottles of shampoo, shaving cream, baby oil, conditioner, body washes and soaps can blossom wherever they wish. I don't have to wrangle shower times, or waking up times, or meal times, or any times at all. If I want to come home and flop into the armchair and do nothing all night but watch TV or Veronica Mars and eat popcorn for dinner, I can do exactly that. I have no one else's needs to attend, except for the minimal needs of my cat.

I don't have to spend money on anyone else, or take other people's food preferences into consideration when I go grocery shopping. I don't have to be home in time for the kids to get home from school. I can have friends over whenever I want. I can come and go as I please. In short, I don't have to compromise with anyone on anything.

When the time comes, it's going to be good, and good for me, to learn to compromise with my family, to orchestrate the miracle of individual lives lived out in sync with one another. But for now, when I don't have that opportunity, I can enjoy my independence to the utmost. Because I don't particularly enjoy conflicts or compromises. And right now I don't have to worry about it. I don't want to reach a point in my life where I look back on my single days and think, "Man, I should have enjoyed that more." So I can make the most of it now.

This is also a time when the single gal or guy can be fully dedicated to a hobby, a cause, or a ministry -- and ministry in particular is a particularly commendable use of time for the single person, who can be single-minded (as per the apostle Paul). I need to grow in this area, but MP does her ministry with eight-year-old girls every week at her church. Jen volunteers at her church's youth group. This time is unique in that we can choose how we spend it; we have no other demands on our spare time, and the things about which we're really passionate can take the forefront. I'm beginning to dedicate much more time and energy to my writing.

But one of the best aspects of this time in my life is the opportunity really to know myself solidly, to grow as an independent adult, and to mature in the different areas of my life that I would normally leave to someone else -- paying the bills, budgeting, getting the oil changed or the registration renewed on the car, calling about repairs for broken windows, fixing the dial on the stove, hanging picture, shelves, pots and pans, buying air conditioners, killing spiders, and moving heavy furniture.

The network of friends is important as well. In lieu of an immediate and nearby family, I have people with whom I hang out on a regular basis, people who meet all sorts of different needs I may not have even realized I had. And not being able to do a few things physically (such as lift the huge air conditioner down the stairs, or moving in new furniture, or dragging a Christmas tree into my apartment), drives me to swallow my pride once in awhile and ask someone for help. And hating eating alone all of the time goads me to seek out dinner pals, so that the fellowship of other people isn't lost just because I'm single -- is furthermore enriched by our common experiences and interests.

And when God tells me to do something, I don't have to worry about its effect on anyone else; I can simply do it.

So the single life isn't just about dating and marriage, isn't only about the absence of a man. It's also about the presence and process of the self, and God's work therein -- and not just in a small and rather selfish everything's-so-convenient-right-now way; but in a way that causes the self to seek outside company, to grow in weaker areas, to listen more and more closely to God, and to become a full, well-rounded, self-knowing, responsible, adjusted, Christlike, and joyful human being.

It's a multifaceted thing.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

home improvements

Well, it's autumn. The trees are turning, leaves are piling up in yards and on sidewalks and streets, apples are crisp and fresh, and the weather is cool and sometimes sunny.

'Tis the season for nesting.

Toward the end of every summer I begin itching to improve my apartment. This time around I went a little bit nuts and bought three enormous new pieces of furniture, necessitating eight hours of arduous rearrangement which featured me dragging three six-foot bookshelves back and forth through every room to situate them just so, then changing my mind and dragging them back. Well, not even dragging so much as wiggling. Negotiating among the various corners of the bookcase base until it moved. I also purchased a DVD rack to accomodate my movie collection, a down comforter (first new comforter since my senior year of high school) with a lovely duvet, a few silk pillows (mmmmm), new sheets, towels, and dishcloths, and delicious red square-cornered dishes. I acquired three new houseplants to replace the ones I killed over the Summer of Depression through forgetting or refusing to water them.

And the feng shui is beautiful. It's consistently looking less and less like a transient place to rest a busy twenty-something head, and more and more like a settled home.

This weekend I added a few more touches to make it cozy. Over the week I spent some time poking around in an antique/junk store down the street from where I work. I wound up buying a lovely (though refinished) 1920s dresser for thirty-four dollars. I also came home with a weathered wooden drawer which I saw fit to convert into a spice rack, a weathered wooden beer crate which I turned into a shoe rack, and a cast iron skillet (I am in love with cast iron skillets). So today my friend Joan allowed me to make use of her minivan and chauferred me to the shop to pick up the dresser. I then came home with an old-fashioned spice rack with eighteen empty glass spice bottles (which I needed because I also spent the week stocking up on Indian and Asian spices, which all tend to come in plastic bags).

So I spent the afternoon drilling holes in wood and screwing things into drywall and studs. I hung both the new spice racks, rehung my kitchen pictures, and put a bunch of heavy hooks into one wall from which to hang my pots and pans and free my under-the-sink space.

The effect? Delightful. The usefulness? Astonishing. The sensation of having done it all solo? Immensely satisfying.

I've noticed MP and I continuing down a half-unconscious road over the past two years. Instead of using this time as singles to go out to as many clubs as possible to meet men, instead of cultivating our flirtatious demeanors and coquettish mannerisms, we've gone completely domestic. She knits and bakes, we both cook, I drill, and now we're taking on canning. I plan to learn knitting for myself this winter, and we've been talking about quilting.

This is not to say that we have no social life. Quite the contrary; usually our calendars are so full we forget what our living rooms look like. Yet in our spare time we're cultivating the old-time womanly skills which new factions of feminism are reintroducing to popular society, and which, with simple touches of homemade beauty and artfulness, render four walls a home.

Sometimes I think we're crazy. What guy our age is going to be out looking for a woman like us, when it's so much easier to coax a barfly home on a Saturday night? Or what guy our age isn't going to find our blossoming domestic goddesses as somehow adding to the terror induced by our bluestocking learning and wit?

But today I don't care. Yes, I drilled fifteen holes into my walls this afternoon by myself, to fix things to them. And it felt great.

Do I still want a man around? You bet. It's so nice to have someone to talk to when you wake up in the morning. And who else is going to kill spiders for me, or take out the air conditioners? But as for the smaller things, the rearranging, the hanging racks and lining the nest, I'm content to do that on my own. Because when I walk into my apartment I can call it home, and know that, minus the sweat of some wonderful friends of both sexes who helped carry all the heavy stuff upstairs, I made it that way.