So, Mrs Edge and a bunch of her friends were going out to some local production of “Le Wicked Miz Cats” or something that I didn’t have much interest in seeing. She invited them over for dinner and drinks beforehand, with the suggestion that if I cleaned the kitchen afterwards, then it might bode well for me getting some kind of treat later on. And it worked out pretty well for both of us, actually.
But I’m sure that nobody is really interested in that kind of thing. Besides, that’s not the point of this post.
So, I joined them for dinner; partly because I was hungry, and partly because it was actually in the dining room. Yes, the dining room. When the aliens land and start looking at middle-class American homes, they are going to wonder about the shrine that many people have which only is used for religious feasts several times a year. “The inhabitants of this house must have been particularly devout practitioners; several of the younger inhabitants appeared to have shared a room, although there was plenty of space at the other end of the house which appeared to be reserved for the household temple of feasts.”
Anyway, her friends — all 50+ year old women who are no longer married — were talking about dating, and several of them complained that “It’s like men are only after one thing.” I tried to just smile and nod, hoping to get out of this alive, when one of them started talking about her plan to make any potential suitor wait at least 3 months before she’d get into bed with him. To my surprise, several other women agreed enthusiastically with her.
This caused an involuntary reaction, and I began coughing up some linguini. Eyes turned toward me. Too late, I was going to have to join the conversation.
“So, Tom; you’re a sensible kind of guy. What do you think of that idea?”
I started saying that I had known several of these women since we were in our twenties, and there’s no way in hell that any of them would have waited three weeks, let alone three months. I added, “Besides, you’re all fifty-plus years old, and the guys that you’re going to meet are other fifty year old guys who are most likely starved for affection. What do you think that you have to offer that’s worth waiting for?”
The sudden sharp connection between my shin and Mrs Edge’s pump reminded me that I was now crossing out of “sensible” into “too blunt” territory, so I quickly got up to fetch more wine. When I got back, they were complaining that they were tired of the men who only seemed to be after one thing, and how they were going to be much more careful in who they dated.
It’s worth noting that out of these women, all of them were recently divorced, and have had at least two marriages in the previous fifteen years – except for one who was newly into her third, or possibly fourth marriage. Interestingly, all of them agreed that making the guy wait some (in my opinion) inordinately long amount of time was the appropriate strategy.
I’ve since asked several other older friends about this, and I have to admit that I’m a bit startled to find that most of them agreed with this approach. Maybe I’m just thinking about it wrong, but I can’t help but imagine that if I were 50+ and single, I wouldn’t want to waste a quarter of a year just to see if a potential partner was sexually compatible with me; although to be fair, I’m pretty certain that most of the women in my social circle would not make the rankings (and wouldn’t come close to Mrs Edge, anyway).
So, since we have a number of more mature readers here, can any of you give me some insight as to this mindset? I mean, I can understand waiting when you’re 20. But after two or three children and a couple of husbands, what the heck are you holding out for? And guys? What do you think of this approach?
And thinking about something wicked …
… allows the incomparable Danica Collins to once again grace our pages.