Romance for Real Women

My Mother, the original Miss Moonbeam from the sixties, declined to marry any of the fathers of her children. Marriage is bourgeois, an insignificant, meaningless piece of paper, an institution designed to oppress women, all according to Mom.

But real women, of which she is one, love romance-even if it involves an exchange of vows before a priest in a church and comes with all the trimmings.

We just can’t help ourselves. And, it’s fun to see her in full wedding planning mode as her sister’s grandchild gets married.

The kids are just starting out, a couple of years out of college, so the original concept was that it was to be a small, intimate wedding in my aunt’s backyard as befitting the couple’s age and current economic status.

That of course was before Mom and Auntie drew up the guest list and realized there were fully 200 people that must be, had to be invited. Leaving one, even one, off the list would result in deeply hurt, never to be mended feelings

The church had already been reserved and it can easily accommodate the anticipated rally. But it didn’t take these two matriarchs long to figure out that the backyard just wouldn’t do.

So with Mom leading the charge, a country club has been rented for the reception.

The original plan had been for the bride to wear a sweet summer dress with perhaps a floppy hat. (That was Miss Moonbeam’s suggestion.) Now the search is on for an appropriate pattern and a thoroughly vetted dress maker.

An even more vigorous search is on for a veil purportedly worn by my great grandmother which has somehow disappeared. I won’t say these two perfectly charming women are pointing fingers at each other, but…

Currently, the telephones, landlines and cells, are burning up over issues involving flowers for the church, food for the reception and the merits of a morning coat versus a tuxedo.

I honestly don’t know how much input the poor bride is having into these weighty issues, but I assume everything is fine since I’ve heard nothing to the contrary. And I would have because I’m being brought up to date every night, although my opinion is never sought.

My sisters and I were raised on the aforementioned philosophy subscribed to by Miss Moonbeam. So, we are thoroughly enjoying her absorption in every detail of her great nephew’s upcoming nuptials. Unable to help myself, I went so far as to ask Mom why she was so involved since she didn’t believe in the institution.

She gave me the thousand yard stare she reserves for really stupid questions from her children.

“Bunny,” she said using her nickname for me, “you really don’t understand?”

“No, Mom, I don’t.” No chance of letting her off the hook on this one.

“They need my help,” she said before taking a call from her sister.

Oh, of course. Right.

I have sometimes criticized relationship gurus and no doubt I’ll have other criticisms as new so-called experts pop up with boneheaded advice for gullible young men and women. But real women know good advice when they see it and the advice quoted by Maureen Dowd in Sunday’s New York Times is the best I’ve ever seen.

Prompted by news articles about Christie Brickley’s notorious divorce from Peter Cook, Maureen Dowd found a 79-year-old Catholic priest, a Father Pat Connor, who gives marvelously refreshing, common sense advice on what to look for in a husband.

I won’t quote the entire column. You can look it up easily. But I do want to emphasize one important point.

Father Connor suggests you never marry a man with no friends. That this indicates intimacy problems.

I’d go a lot further.

Talk to your friends when you’re contemplating marriage or a relationship. Then really listen. Their advice is even more important than any you may get from your parents or siblings.

Friends, unless you’re running with a totally evil group, don’t have agendas. They actually want you to be happy and want you to be happy on your own terms.

Parents, however, well meaning, can’t always see beyond their own perceptions of what’s good for you. For example, you’re a doctor. He’s a carpenter. They see the socio/economic difference without understanding the stability issue is more important to you than the economic one. Your friends will get it.

Another piece of advice. Think long and hard before you ally yourself with someone from another, vastly different culture than your own. I did not say skin color here, please note. I said culture.

The female relatives of the gorgeous Muslim man you met in college wear burkas. But he’s Americanized, you say, he doesn’t believe in burkas, the headdress worn by Muslim women.

Sorry, my child, it’s not going to work. The world is growing closer together all the time, but not that close. You’ll be in for a world of hurt.

So, listen to your friends and carefully consider his background. Throw in Father Connor’s advice about intimacy, money management, humor, ability to disagree and more and you have an excellent starting point for evaluating your relationship.

If I do say so myself.

            If you’ve read much of this blog, you’ve probably guessed that we don’t celebrate Father’s Day in my house. 

I have two darling children who seldom see their father.  That’s his choice, not ours.  Rather, it’s not theirs.  I would like nothing more than to firmly close the book on what I regard as the sorriest chapter in my life.

I suspect I’m not alone in being deeply ambivalent about my children’s involvement with a father who walked out on them.

On the one hand, I want them to know, really know, in their bones and in their hearts that everyone who has a close connection to them loves them. This is the basic security children deserve and I’ve told them for years that Daddy loved them. 

But Daddy rarely surfaces.  And, when he does, generally, it’s all about him.  He’s got a spare day.  He has an appointment nearby. He’s got a little time to kill.

Long ago, the kids became used to his casual disregard.  But being used to it, doesn’t take away the pain or the yearning.

I am the one who sees their wistful expressions when holidays like Father’s Day come and go without a word from him.

I am the one who copes with the disappointment when Daddy doesn’t acknowledge a birthday or an achievement.

And I am the one who is trying to raise children who understand the precious gift they are so that they in turn will pass on this fundamental sense of self to their own children.  Every child should have bone deep awareness of being special to their parents.  Every single child.

So, Father’s Day came and went in our house.  I know the kids bought something for him although they didn’t discuss it with me.

Their bright, expectant faces changed during the day to hurt and disappointment by bedtime when it was clear he wasn’t going to call.

And, oh, I’m so angry. I’d like nothing better than to sever all ties. I’d enjoy seeing see his name on the phone and not answering it.  I’d take pleasure in ignoring his occasional e-mails.  I’d love to slam the goddamn door in his selfish face. 

But I won’t.  I know that the next time he calls or drops by…whenever that may be…and announces he wants to see the children, I’ll let him.

Depending on who you listen to, divorce rates in the U.S. are between forty and fifty percent. And relationship breakdowns appear to be just as dismal in Europe. Recently, The Institute for Family Planning, a European family policy think tank released a report asserting there is a divorce in Europe every thirty seconds. (Its solution, by the way, is for European couples to have more children, a discussion we can get into another time.)

But, there is no doubt that these are disheartening statistics, especially if you believe in happy endings. I’ve gone through a divorce. My sister, Mary, whom I’ve mentioned has gone through several. They’re not pretty.

Nevertheless, the solution I stumbled early this week, suggested by columnist Lucy Kellaway seems preposterous. In fact, when I first read it, I thought it was farce, lame, but still farce.

Her brainchild is to establish an online date rating agency to collect information from former lovers about former lovers. She suggests “Date Rate” would be a cross between Ebay and Wikipedia. Information would include “fidelity, sexual appetite, generosity, dedication to watching football on television, tendency to leave dirty sock strewn around and so on.” Biographical information would be included.

Can you blame me for thinking this was supposed to be funny?

I naturally don’t expect anyone to take her proposal seriously. But I wouldn’t have anticipated anyone seriously asserting that having more children is an appropriate prescription for divorce so no doubt Lucy has potential bankers lining up to invest, assuming there are any bankers anywhere with any capital.

We are so out in left field here.

Marriage, partnership, dating, friends, children, family. All significant relationships involve some degree of risk.

When evaluating a potential partner, insist on meeting his family. That’ll tell you a lot. Meet his friends. That’ll tell you more. Watch how he reacts to small and large things. That’ll tell you something.

If you’re still not certain about your own judgment, run a D&B on him. Hire a detective. There are plenty of services out there that are more than happy to invade his privacy. Better yet, if you’re unsure about him, just run and save your money.

The last person you want to talk to is a former lover, especially a disgruntled former lover. Yeah, that’s information you can trust.

Dating, marriage, committed relationships…rough stuff and hard work. But no database of biased information from aggrieved ex’s is going to make it any easier or less risky.

In the absence of a worldwide database providing information on your quirks as well as quirks of former lovers to anyone who logs in, I’d suggest using a little commonsense when deciding whether to date someone. Better yet, listen to your heart.

You can view the article at www.ft.com