Moms.
I took my boy to playgroup this morning. Only one other mom there. It was fine. We're in a new neighborhood so still meeting people around.
It got me thinking, though. Here's the profile of the women I know: white, late thirties, upper middle-class. They work both in and out of the home, volunteer for their schools, drive mini-vans. They garden and read.
Where are the artists and the writers? Where are the weirdos? Where are the less conventional moms? I really think this city isn't affordable to anyone who isn't affluent.
As an adult, it gets harder to meet friends. Add to that the fact that I'm shuttled into the least interesting category of all: Mom.
We're a group over-consumed with diapers and feeding habits, too sleep deprived to think straight. When we have cocktail parties, the women wind up in the kitchen talking about kids. Except me. I spend all day focused about my son; why would I want to talk about him when I can finally have adult time? I hang out with the men.
Don't get me wrong, I like my friends. But I also need diversity. I'm going on a safari. I'll find the cool moms and flush them out. Make them like me.
4 Comments:
Wrygirl,
The mass of men (and women?) lead lives of quiet desperation. Thoreau knew. I feel your frustration, and your loneliness. I love how you can write about sex so compellingly, but I also am inspired by how thoughtful and introspective you are. Clearly, you are a hand-full in more ways than one. You make us want to fuck you...and to know you. As for loss and grief, there is much we could talk about. Hold on to the good. Keep loving.
Day
I've got a playgroup like that. I'm kinda the weirdo because I don't go into raptures over the newest Hanna Andersen catalog. Eeek.
You're on a mission. I'll bet there are a lot of seemingly boring moms out there who would love to have you as their "cool girl" inspiration, but they need you to spark them . . . to release a little of the inner party girl . . . to show them that it's okay to feel alive . . . that it's okay to be more than a laundress, driver, cook, and nanny . . . that these are roles, not identities.
And wear something hot . . . they'll be jealous as hell.
XO
How funny...I'm a guy, and at cocktail parties I hang out with the women who aren't in the kitchen talking about kids, diapers, the little league team or school.
Probably it's because I find sports and hunting (what men talk about) tedious after awhile.
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