First Person Singular by Wendy Braitman

Monday Morning Recap of a Blind Date

As a policy, I don’t post running commentary on the men I’m dating. (Details leading up to a first encounter, on the other hand, are fair game.) But what about the men I’m not dating?

Case in point. Over the weekend, I was “fixed up,” and it seemed to go surprisingly well. As soon as he walked in, I felt relaxed, like I knew I could be myself. The evening was filled with lively conversation, which came easily; we had many shared interests (important ones like food, movies and art) and hours passed by as if they were minutes. Plus, I thought he was cute.

When I phoned the “matchmaker” this morning asking for the scoop, there was an awkward silence on the other end. “We didn’t really talk about it,” my friend answered hesitantly. “That couldn’t be true. I mean, I know you’re two guys,” I blurted out. “But he said nothing about me?!” “Well,” my friend replied, almost in a mumble, “I’m not sure it’s going anywhere. He thinks you’re too smart for him.” Oh, no, not that again. I hustled myself off the phone.  The thing is, I’m not too smart for him. So it’s code. But for what?

(The illustration above is of a real notepad, part of a line of products from Smart Women)

Blind Date Wardrobe Countdown

When it comes to what I’ll be wearing for my quasi blind date tomorrow night, it was impossible to follow the advice given to me three days ago by my married girlfriend: “Don’t over think it.” But since then, I’ve surveyed so many people and gotten enough conflicting information that I’ve actually worn myself out. Jeans, skirt, jeans, skirt. Ahhhhhhhhhh! Last night, I went so far as to test run a few outfits. I can only hope the man I’m going to meet tomorrow has not googled me, discovered this site, and is now reading these words in horror.

I know. Relax.

Who is Your Safety Net?

There’s that stark moment at the doctor’s office, when you’re asked to write down your “in case of emergency” contact. Are you sure, right away, how to answer, or do you shift in your chair and have to think about it?

Topping my list of things that I’ve missed out on as a single woman, is the security of knowing, without hesitation, who my safety net is. I don’t mean financially, although that sounds luxurious, too. But sometimes I ache for the security of a go-to partner, who will be there for me, no matter what. It seemed that my father was like that for my mother, and my brother appears that way for his wife. Deep down, I’m hoping that my safety net fantasy is one of those marriage myths, and that couples have their existential moments of feeling alone in the world, just like single people do.

For now, my solution is a diversified portfolio, as I look to a community of friends to count on. Who knows? Maybe it’s a smarter strategy. Maybe I’m the lucky one.

Chicken Soup and the Common Cold

At the first sign of a runny nose, I throw together a pot of chicken soup. I say throw, because this is not a delicate dish. I cut big hunks of carrots, onion and celery and add them to the pot with a whole chicken that’s been covered with cold water. It takes only 5 minutes to prep, although for a rich chicken soup, you should simmer the ingredients for at least 2 hours. As the soup is coming to a boil, I hang around the stove to skim the impurities from the top. But I usually get bored doing this, and give up quickly. Today I had some leftover leeks in the fridge, so I tossed them in, along with fresh parsley from the garden.

Making chicken soup is a great way to nurture, and it reminds me of the care I got from my mother and grandmother when I was under the weather. Colds have to run their course, and there’s not much evidence that anything speeds up the healing process. But I swear by chicken soup. Don’t just take my word for it. The Mayo Clinic agrees. Recipe from the Second Avenue Deli in New York follows.

Continue reading »

What To Wear on a Blind Date?

To clarify. An acquaintance (okay, an old fling) is certain he knows the perfect man for me, and to that end, he has arranged an upcoming evening for the three of us to meet and greet. Art gallery opening, followed by dinner and drinks. But what to wear? Pencil skirt with high black boots? Boyfriend jeans with a fitted t-shirt? I consulted my best girlfriend, who also happens to be a world-class clothing designer. Her response: “Don’t over think it.” Spoken like a married woman who hasn’t been on a date for years.

I’m taking suggestions.

When Can We Trust Love at First Sight?

Here’s my one incident of genuine love at first sight. Genuine in the sense that decades after the first moment when our eyes locked, which was accompanied by an abiding sense of calm, we still feel the same way about each other.

Alas. My story is not about romantic love, but even so, there was an unusual certainty when I met William (my dearest friend who happens to be gay). One look and an exchange of hellos, and we were bonded for life.

Since then, I’ve locked eyes with many men, and breathlessly wondered (most recently in June), is this my true love at first sight? But not one has stood the test of time. Not one except William. And I’ve decided that it counts.

Do you still believe in it?

How a Mouse Saved My Week

This was NOT a case of shopping therapy. I really needed it. Not want. Need. The last few months, the only way I could keep my old mouse functioning was to wipe the scroll bar clean EVERY day. I hate cleaning. I finally called it quits last week, and went to my neighborhood Apple Store, money in hand. A sales clerk told me to hang in there, and come back next week for delivery of the new MAGIC MOUSE. I’m a gadget girl, so I was thrilled to think of owning visionary touch screen technology for under $70. Since I’m not good at hanging in there, I went directly home and ordered the Magic Mouse online, just to know it would soon be in my hands.

I’d been having a tough week. You know how that goes. Nothing was going my way. When the box arrived today, I ripped it open, as if it were a pair of Christian Louboutin shoes. Apple products are so elegantly designed, and this one does not disappoint. The entire curved “body” of the mouse is sensitive to touch. You can scroll up, down, sideways, zoom in, with just the lightest movement of your fingers. I know. I’m gushing. But my new toy put me on a happier track going into the weekend. And then, a friend called about an interesting guy he wants me to meet. Life is looking up.

Pros and Cons of Sleeping Alone

It could be said that yesterday’s post was evidence of my being a little defensive. I’d HATE to be thought of as a cat lady. Yet you can find me most nights before heading off to sleep, searching under cars in my neighborhood to lure Lily (the cat) into bed. I’ve gotten used to the peacefulness of sleeping alone. No snoring, plenty of room side to side, covers to yourself, the uncompromising control of the lighting. But sometimes it gets lonely and boring. And that’s where Lily fits in. Quite cozily, I might add, right underneath my elbow.

This 1949 photograph, Girl in Bed, is by the incomparable Irving Penn, who died three weeks ago at the ripe, old, age of 92.

The Trope of the Crazy Cat Lady

Here’s my disclaimer. I have NOT seen the Canadian documentary, Cat Ladies, only this trailer. I read about the film over the summer and contacted the producer, who emailed that she will be sending me a copy for review. I hope, as their promotional materials indicate, the film shatters the stereotype of the cat lady, rather than plays into it. The preview does not make me hopeful.

For the record, I LOVE my cat.

Where Do We Fit In?

The media was abuzz last week with The Shriver Report (as in Maria Shriver), about the social transformation happening in the U.S., now that women account for 50 percent of our workforce. Sounds promising, right? As I read through the Executive Summary (which was about as much as I could commit to), I got more and more aggravated. The Report focuses primarily on married women with children, and I found myself asking a familiar question, “Where do I fit it?

That’s why I depend on Bella DePaulo. Please read her comprehensive, and as always, thoughtful analysis of what’s wrong (and right) with the Shriver Report.

(Image: Maye Webb, the New York Times)