Several of my female friends are in trouble because of their husbands. Two well in their sixties have been left for a younger woman. Two have trouble with husbands who have other ideas of where to live and who try to push their choice through. Rockcastle has been single for over 30 years and never found the right companion, Spooky is no longer interested in a relationship, and I have two wonderful dogs... At least they are not drinkers or depressed, don't lock you up in the house and like all my cooking.They are not intimidated by my writing or traveling... I apologize to my male friends but there is a lot of pain and eventually cynicism among women past menopause. Suddenly, one becomes invisible, is no longer wanted, uninteresting or so it seems. Yet, I have also noticed that two women in their seventies whom I know, found within a year a new companion after their respective husbands died. What is it I am missing in this pictures? Follows a poem written in a laundromat after listening to a lady.
I see the black blue eye
hear the nagging
and know the bruises of their soul
There is a war out there
Don’t wage that war on me
I lost my past and who I was
to find searching
a gentle caring sharing
need
But waves of anger
wash me to a breaking shore
Clowns from Amsterdam
11 years ago
It seems to me that there is a time in men's lives (usually between the ages of 40 through 80) when they need to find themselves. It doesn't matter who gets hurt or trampled. HE is the one that matters. Been there, done that. Now I live very happily, thank you, with my four pups and three kitties. At least their love is unconditional. Of course, I have many good friends, but I'll take puppy love over another human male version of love any time.
ReplyDeleteI collect men like bubblegum cards. I shuffle them, stick them in my pocket, trade them off, watch them make fools of themselves while younger women drain their wallets, and a few other things. Then, I roast a soy dog and sip a little wine when I see the younger women toss them to the cliffs below wearing a tiny cheap parachute.....when the men ask for a bite of my soydog (after the long climb back up) I mutter "I have to think about it, bub." j
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