I know I've said this before

In fact, I know I've said it more than once.

Hell, I know I've been there more than once.

But I will never understand why some women simply cannot face being alone.

I have a dear friend, D, who has been traveling for the past few months. She unofficially left behind a dysfunctional relationship, so I know that the trip was a way for her to reconnect with herself. But now she keeps putting off her return.

Every couple of weeks, I get an over-the-top e-mail from her, squeeing about some perfect guy that she's met, one that's "different" than the rest, one that might be "the one." Then a couple of weeks later, she'll send an over-the-top e-mail of frustration about how the whatevership has flatlined and that she can't figure out men.

Now, as a traveling kind of gal myself, I certainly understand the romanticized world of travel, how everyone you meet is new and exciting and how because you're removed from reality, you give yourself permission to act like a naive teenager again.

I get that.

But in this case, what I really think is going on is that my friend is afraid to come home. She's afraid to face her not-officially-over relationship, afraid that without a new lover stowed away in her carry-on, she'll fall back into a relationship she can't bear to let go of if she's alone. Maybe more travel is best; maybe it will eventually lead her to herself. But I can't help but fear that ultimately it is only leading her away from her self, leading her away from confronting the complexities, the good and the bad, of her reality.

Sunday Musings

Funny how few people understand the happiness a gal finds with being single. Funny how many of them worry about my being single as if I were dying of cancer or suffering from addiction. Their intentions are almost always good, so I don't get too irritated by their concerns; I just keep on living and seeing where that leads me.

But it continues.

For a couple of years now, C's boyfriend, F, has been auditioning (yes, that is the right word for it) potential dates at the neighborhood Peet's for me. F has very high standards for me. Too high. No man seems good enough. He's been talking about this one guy, Bachelor X, for several months now.

I keep asking, "When's F gonna deliver the goods?"

"Soon," C will say.

Now, apparently, F has some new potentials in mind. Let's call them Bachelors Y, Z, and AA. I said, "Why doesn't he just line them up in front of me, cattle-call style, and we'll get through them far more quickly?"

For all that I'm flattered by F's dedication, and even more flattered by his standards (far higher than the standards I had for myself in my 20s and early 30s, when men with pulses and high libidos were good enough for me) I feel like saying, "Yo, F! No man is perfect!"

But I must remember my patience. It's taken me 35 years and 11 months to figure that out. As F has only been looking for me for two years, I guess he's got some figuring out left for himself to do.

For the first time in the history of humankind

(Yes, it's been awhile; no, I haven't gone and gotten married!)

Friday night, C and I decided to do a little bar-hopping. We were at one of our favorite Mission bars, Dalva, when these two guys approached us. We were having a good time talking and flirting with them, when one of them suddenly says:

I moved to San Francisco two years ago, and pretty much all I've done is have casual sex. Now that I'm 32, I'm ready to find the woman of my dreams, settle down, and have babies with her.

I said to him, do you really want children? Or is it simply that you think that's what a 32-year-old man should do?

He said that he had never given it much thought before. At this point, he and his friend ordered fresh pints. Just as he was taking that first, satisfying swig, I said:

I find it interesting how many men make that decision so abruptly when they hit their early 30s, as it's just so foreign to me. Though you're sitting here with two women who have pretty much decided that they don't want children.

He puts down his beer and turns to his friend and says, "You about ready to go?" and then turns to us and says, "Bye." They immediately leave the bar, full beers abandoned on the counter.

Very strange, indeed.