Stability

A letter in the Smithsonian written by the great writer Zora Neale Hurston. What is she writing about? Boys.

I’m suddenly five-feet of hot commodity.

In what is further proof the universe is indeed a mysterious place – after a three-year dating drought, I am juggling two educated, smart, funny, age-appropriate bachelors that I met on a dating Website.

Online is apparently my venue.

I may be ignored in public, at bars, and anywhere else I can be seen in the flesh – but men flock like pigeons to my photograph and artfully crafted bio.

I had to weed out the usual:  bondage enthusiasts, marrieds, meanies and youngsters. There was also the guy who sent me the full-length naked picture. (I ain’t complainin’ honey. He was built like a brick house. But not exactly what I’m looking for in the boundary department.)

After a few weeks of witty e-mails and then subsequent meetings for coffee -- I’m now at a place where I’m regularly seeing Boy A and Boy B. I like them. They like me. All is well, if a bit hectic, in Spinsta-land.

This, I thought, was progress. This was effort. This was the dawn of a new day.

And then I got a call from my friend Anita – and was reminded why I started avoiding relationships in the first place.

I’m often asked why I’m still single – usually by the men I used to love. And the answer, to me, is simple. It’s easier. I disagree with the common belief that marriage equals stability.  There’s nothing more stable than being single. I know what my motives are. I know if I’m going to call. I know whether I’ve paid the bills.  It is rare, when you are single, that the sudden influx of new information will change your entire world.

That’s what I was thinking as I spoke to Anita.

Anita has lived with her husband 10 years, and been married to him for five. He is her first and only boyfriend. They have a baby girl. Anita has never paid a bill, called out for pizza, or gone to the post office.  We joke that if her husband were ever hit by a bus, she would survive, maybe, a week. I have been envious of her – wondering what it would be like for someone to take such good care of me.  

She called to say she feels conned – that her life, as she knew it, is a lie. She said her husband has been juggling multiple addictions for at least four years -- including drugs, gambling and porn. She said she wants a divorce – but feels she must try to save her marriage for the baby. She’s devastated and angry. Her life has taken a drastic turn – and not because of any choice she made. (Although it could be argued she elected to ignore warning signs. But who the hell wouldn’t?)

I listen, because I don’t know what else to do. I tell her what I think – which is that her husband, despite the lies, loves her. I tell her it’s worth the effort to try and save her marriage. I disagree when she calls him a psychopath.

After an hour and a half, we hang up the phone. She is taking her baby to story time at the library. I sit stunned for a long time.

I just told my friend it’s worth the effort – but is it?

I look at the two new numbers in my phone and weigh the witty banter, dinner dates and candlelight with the fact that I have never seen a long term relationship meander its way through the decades without some serious, significant, and devastating pitfalls. I turn this knowledge over in my head like I might a coin in my hand.

And then for reasons that make no sense to me, I do not delete the numbers – I let them live.