| I was proposed to a couple of months ago. There should be an exclamation point at the end of that sentence, I think. Shouldn’t a woman in her early 50’s be excited at the prospect of new love and starting a life with someone? I guess my issues run deeper than even I was able to admit – until now. I have a friend who started dating a man just about a month ago. She told me today that if he were to propose to her right now, this very minute, she’d say “yes”. It was almost impossible for me to comprehend her words. I know there are couples out there that met and instantly knew that they were meant for each other. I’ve never been one half of that type of couple. My steadfast rule is that you don’t really know a man (as a potential life partner) until you’ve known him for at least three years. In my experience that’s the exact amount of time necessary to see just about every aspect of another person. How he is with service staff; what he’s like when he’s sick; what he’s like when I’m sick; how he handles sleeping with dogs on the bed; what he’s like when he’s angry, or tired, or angry and tired; how he is with little children, teens, friends, aging parents, neighbors (both good and not-so-good); road rage; paper or plastic; tipping; speeding; drinking; other (younger and/or more beautiful) women, etc. These experiences don’t appear inside a month, or six. We’re all on our best behavior during that “honeymoon” phase of dating. Time is a luxury that no one seems to want to indulge in when it comes to love. Except me. The proposal came after only a few months of getting to know each other. It was offered during a one-week vacation in the English countryside. There were aspects of this man that I was sure I could never live with but, had I been offered time, I might have understood the behaviors better – I might have come to accept them, rather than stay awake nights wondering whether or not I was about to be pushed into making the biggest mistake of my life. I felt cornered. I needed time. But the offer was a limited one – it was now or never. No waiting. No more “dating”. We had to be engaged. The funny thing is that with only a few years difference in age, I saw what amounted to a full generation gap. This gentleman had the idea that his “wife” would be everything his mother was to his father – a good cook; a good housekeeper; a source of encouragement, inspiration, support. Having been on my own for so many years I wondered, is marriage in a woman’s 50’s a few steps backwards on the independence scale? Am I really looking for someone to care for? What happened to the idea of “partners”? In a decadent, self-indulgent way, I’m going to take all the time I need to mull that one over.
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