First Person Singular by Wendy Braitman

A Barometer for Marriage

"Dame (Jean) Iris Murdoch" by Gisèle Freund, 1959

“Writing is like getting married. One should never commit oneself until one is amazed at one’s luck.”

This quote is from the prolific author, Iris Murdoch, who would have turned 90 today. She wrote 26 novels, amassed many literary honors, became a Dame of the British Empire. For 43 years, she was married to the critic and novelist, John Bayley, who was deeply in love with her, almost from his first sighting, when she bicycled by his window at Oxford in a frayed tweed skirt. Bayley’s 1999 memoir, Elegy for Iris, documents in grim and heroic detail, his caring for Murdoch as she struggled with Alzheimer’s, during the last years of her life.

I’ve been thinking about the quote all day, and it strikes me as particularly apropos of my recent post, Are We Too Picky? I’m supposing that Murdoch who married Bayley in her mid-thirties, would answer with a resounding, no.

Are We Too Picky?

How many times have you heard from well-intentioned loved ones (yes, Mom, I mean you!) that the reason you aren’t married is, “you’re too picky.” Remember all those potential spouses you’ve said no to?  No to the friend of a friend’s friend (none of whom knew your taste, but why turn down a blind date?) who is politically conservative and certain, even though he can’t provide evidence to the contrary, that Michelle Obama is angry and overbearing; no to the aggressive fellow who has gained so many pounds through the years that his neck has disappeared into his shoulders and doesn’t listen to a word you’re saying, and when he goes in for a sloppy kiss at the end of dinner, you think, “if it’s a choice between having sex with him, or never having sex again, I choose the latter”; no to the spartan composer in his late forties living in a cramped, studio apartment with a single bed, in spacious L.A., and at 6’4” his feet dangle over the edge, and when women spend the night, they have to camp out on the floor. Yes, I’ve said my share of no’s. But I am no more picky than my married friends. I am certain that Mr. Right or even Mr. Right enough to settle down and make a decent life together, has NOT slipped through the cracks.   Continue reading »

The Supreme Justice

I can hardly wait for the inspiring Judge Sonia Sotomayor to be confirmed as the long overdue other woman on the Supreme Court.

The Security of Dry Goods

What is it about stowing a massive amount of toilet paper in the pantry that gives me a sense of calm? Perhaps it makes me feel close to my mother, although calm is not how I’d describe her, or any facet of our relationship, but I do have a sweet memory of her loading up basement shelves with more than enough toilet paper and containers of Campbell soup to get the family through any emergency.

When I’m looking for massive amounts of almost anything, I go to Costco, with whom I have a love/hate relationship. I love the well-priced hunk of Parmigiano-Reggiano, the jugs of Vodka, the mammoth bags of chicken tenders and dog biscuits. The downside is putting up with a jammed parking lot, a back-breaking amount of square footage to cover, and the tubs of ranch dressing that make you wonder, how big is your family that you could actually consume this?

When I’m at Costco, I want to get in and out quickly, so I rarely flirt with the impulse buy. (I do admit to a weakness for small kitchen appliances and Tupperware-like storage containers.) Today, in the “dental” corridor, I eyed the electric toothbrush selection, as mine no longer holds its charge. There was no selection really, a lone model with dual handles, as in, spouses sharing a bathroom, and an electric toothbrush base.

I glanced at the 30 jumbo rolls of toilet paper in my cart, and was glad to have something to soften the blow.

No Boyfriend? How about Boyfriend Jeans

Going to my dentist can be a dangerous experience. There’s the sting of the Novocain shot and the piercing drill. But that’s not the risky part. My dentist’s office is across the street from one of L.A.’s high-end department stores, where as long as I validate my ticket, I can park for free. That is, if I don’t get tempted to shop. For my last dental appointment, traffic was light, and I arrived with thirty minutes to spare. In a sense, I was forced to browse. Inside the store, I strolled by a table of handbags on sale, wondering if any woman still breathing could pass a collection of marked-down designer purses, without diving in. I stroked them all quickly and walked away.

I did end up with Current Elliott “boyfriend,” jeans, named as such, because they’re big enough to belong to your boyfriend (assuming you have one). According to an article in US Daily News, the trend started a year ago when Katie Holmes, who liked to borrow her husband’s jeans, was photographed wearing a pair. My new jeans are roomy and the denim is soft. I cinch them tight with a thick belt. They’re not exactly a man-magnet, but they have become my go-to pants of the spring and summer. If you figure in cost per wear, I’ve already gotten my money’s worth (especially considering all the cash I’ve saved on parking). I packed them for a recent getaway to Stinson Beach, where, to my surprise, I had a flirtatious weekend with an attractive man. I’m sure the jeans had nothing to do with it. But who knows?

Shoes AND Art. What could be better?!

Yes, I want those shoes. But there are other reasons to appreciate this painting by Kimiko Yoshida, a Japanese artist currently living in France. “Minotaur of Picasso” is a photograph printed on canvas, and is part of an ongoing series of Yoshida’s self portraits. To see her upcoming shows, you’ll have to travel to Europe. I say, it’s worth it.

The Temptation of Technology

I’m not sure why Sandra Tsing Loh’s spiky and poignant piece about the busting up of her marriage, Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off, is making me sad. Her disenchantment with the institution at the seasoned age of 47 shouldn’t surprise me, an expert at being disappointed by the notion of happy ever after.

I’ve got the blues, for sure, from the five excruciating hours I’ve now spent on the Apple-tech support line following a visit to the “Genius Bar” at the Mac store on Sunday, resulting in two days (and counting) of a technological meltdown on my computer and iPhone.

I’m a full-fledged geek, in love with my electronics. I can’t imagine life without them. And when they fail me, I get shaky and can’t concentrate. My neck is in total lock down right now. I still can’t get email. That should teach me not to grow too dependent.

A Badge of Courage?

Ever since I started my site, I’ve received comments from virtual strangers and loved ones about my bravery. After a recent piece, How I Grabbed the Best Bedroom, appeared in The Huffington Post, a friend wrote to me in an email, “ Wow, girl. You have balls.”

I find this curious. Does it take bravery to admit out loud in public that you’re single?

Happy Independent Day

Today I celebrate the joy and freedom of being single!

Photo: Henri Cartier-Bresson/ Magnum Photos
Watching fireworks in Massachusetts on July 4, 1947

How I Grabbed the Best Bedroom in the Guest House

(Now published in the Huffington Post)

I grabbed the best bedroom at the beach house for you, vacationing single women and men everywhere, who have been relegated to the bunk bed, the twin bed, the princess bed, the bed shaped like an airplane, the Spiderman-sheeted bed, the blow-up mattress that slowly leaks, so by morning there is only deflated polyurethane between you and the hardwood floor, or worse, the love seat in the living room, where you’re kept awake at both ends of your sleep cycle, by chatty revelers who drink all night, and chirpy early risers who brew the first pot of coffee. I grabbed the best bedroom at the beach house, because I was tired of being penalized for not having a mate and because I arrived there first, or in other words, because I COULD. Did I mention my boudoir had its own bathroom?   Continue reading »