Dear single women over 40
By Raymi Topaz
On an uncharacteristically chilly spring day in New York, I sit with X in a diner near Times Square. She speedily cuts into her purple and green bed of leaves. Soft lines crease her forehead and the sides of her eyes. She has straightened brown hair and brown eyes that sparkle with each phrase that quickly tumbles out of her mouth. She is on her lunch hour and she still has a lot of errands to run.
X is a successful lady, having worked at high-profile companies her entire career. She has managed multi-million dollar accounts across the entire United States, trained groups of people at each company to be better at their jobs and grown programs at said companies from scratch. People call on her to do a good job. In short, she’s awesome, and I hope to have a career like hers one day.
But to her, this is second nature already. She has probably worked tirelessly to get good job after good job and do well at each of them. For the past however many years this has been her focus; it’s what she knows. So it is jarring to me when she jokes, “See? This is what you have to look forward to when you’re 44 and not married.”
Quite the sarcastic myself, I know there’s truth behind every joke. Despite all of X’s successes, she still finds herself unsuccessful, searching on the streets, in country clubs, on dating websites for a husband. As writer Jen Doll wrote in her Village Voice article “Dear Single Women of NYC: It’s Not Them, It’s You,” both men and women come to this city because they have ambition to have something better, most of the time a career. And people focus on their careers for so long that one day they wake up and they realize they don’t have someone sleeping next to them. But then they begin to define themselves by that absence and that absence only, when in reality their achievements are so much greater than just a spouse.
My dear friend Gaby Dunn, whose 100 Interviews project is now six months in and going strong, recently wrote up an interview with Kimberley Kennedy, a well-known Atlanta news anchor who was left at the altar some years ago. Despite the tremendous pain it caused her at the time, Kennedy knows that everything happened for the best. She says that a common mistake women make is “(defining) ourselves by our relationships. Unless a man loves us we feel we’re not worthy. We’re defined by if a man — or a woman, if you’re gay — loves us.” Kennedy wrote a book called Left at the Altar to help women ease their heartbreak, but also to “to show women their value independent from a romantic partner.”
I have never, ever sought to define myself by another person’s love, romantic or otherwise, nor do I hope to in the future. I am not more or less of a person because I am or am not seeing someone, a fact that I have made clear to my parents’ friends who, despite any other accomplishments or stories I may have, only ever care to ask about my dating life.
“So, are you seeing anyone?” my godfather’s new bride asked me across the table at Thanksgiving.
“No,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you?”
I hate that for X the situation may bear even more pressure, like Bridget Jones in that scene where she’s the only singleton at that all-couples dinner party. Bridget feels annoyed and alone when everyone else in front of her (literally and figuratively) has paired off. It’s not only that, but Bridget is getting older. She worries if there will come a time when she is no longer seen as desirable—that “old maid”/spinster stereotype that so many women fear. Because as we get older, we aren’t seen as swinging bachelorettes or grown-up versions of the sex kittens we were in our youth. We’re seen as pathetic, lonely old women. Nobody wants to be seen that way.
What I want is for X to see, perhaps in defiance of everything we’re taught or shown by popular culture, that she is a significant unit on her own. I wish all women could do this, could see themselves for the interesting, successful, beautiful people they are.
Instead, I sit across from her in the diner and my eyes wilt a little bit on top of my feigned smile when she makes that crack about being 44 and unmarried. “WHO CARES?!?!?” I want to say. I want to tell her no, you’re wrong, how can you say that, look at you! You’re beautiful, smart, ambitious, successful—you’re a powerful lady at the top of your game! Anyone who thinks you’re anything other than awesome is out of touch with modern times. Don’t you remember that song, “Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves” by Aretha Franklin and the Eurhythmics? “Standin’ on their own two feet and ringin’ on their own bells.” How women in their 40s are “supposed” to live or be or act has changed significantly. Your success matters.
But the words get lodged in my throat and they refuse to come out. This is partly because this woman is my employer and I don’t want to insult her, drudge up bad memories from past relationships or, worst of all, have her refuse to pay me. It is also partly because I know what I will hear in return: There will be a kind of knowledgeable “ha” sound followed by a “You’re still young. How old are you? 22? Wait ‘til you’re my age, you’ll be singing a different tune.”
Yes, perhaps I am 22 and full of self-righteous idealism, feminism and narcissism. But I still know there’s so much value in you that I wish you could see for yourself. Like me, you came to New York full of piss and vinegar, ready to take on the world and get that career you always dreamed of. And you did it! You are sitting across from me in this diner munching on that spring mix a successful lady. You are a living example for me and my ambitious sisters, who come to New York every day hoping to have a career like yours. You are a role model.
