A while back, I got a desk-top calendar at Talin Market in Albuquerque. It's called, "It's All About Me, All Year Long." It's got room for a daily self-portrait, the "Me-Me-Me" mantra, and a way to track each day's degree of self-involvement. I'm glad I bought it, because it makes me laugh every day. And that's good, because I need it.
Now, it pretty much goes without saying that I am egotistical-- one has to be to consistently post story after story about things of little consequence, right? I try to temper that bad quality by being kind in real life, and I honestly think I do alright on that score. I mean, at the end of the day, I never have trouble with the "What have you done for someone else today?" personal evaluation. But I'm no saint, and as much as I think of others, I spend plenty of time thinking about myself.
A couple of things have floated around the nonsense lobe of my brain recently-- that place where my thoughts go when I'm not thinking about anything in particular. The thoughts there are not necessarily nonsensical, just usually vain, prideful, etc. It should be nonsense, but this mental resort keeps me sane. Anyhow, here are some notes:
* A few weeks ago, Lou and I were at FHE, noticing some of the couples and the would-be-matches. Lou commented on people being most successfully paired with those at or about-at their level of attractiveness. Makes sense. It's a shame we all want to trade up a bit, but from our observations, I concluded a) men tend to expect to trade up, while women are more willing to trade down in the looks department and b) it is entirely possible that part of my singleness stems from being man-ish and not being willing to spend my time with ugly dudes. It's like this-- have you ever seen a photograph of yourself or caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and thought, "Oh no! That's not what I really look like! I'm so much hotter in my head!" It's a terrible feeling, but I take comfort in knowing that even ugly boys don't tend to like me, therefor I feel safe from blame.
* Forgive me if I've mentioned this before, but once upon a time, I was introduced to the Albuquerque Journal's former society reporter, Charlotte Balcomb-Lane. She was elegant and gracious, and a beautiful woman herself. She gave this then-cub-reporter one of the best tips of society reporting. She said to get the interview with the most powerful man in the room, look for the most beautiful woman. Inevitably, she'll be his date, and she can facilitate the introduction, as well as provide an attractive picture to accompany one's story. Golden advice, I assure you! However useful this information has been to me in reporting and networking, though, I must admit it's led to a much more poignant question-- one I've yet to find the answer to: Who is the most powerful woman's date? Now please bear with my delusions of grandeur for a moment, but I will say this-- from my limited experience, it is the powerful women who are often left alone.
Before I proceed, it is necessary of course, to qualify the above-statement. 1) Just because a woman is married does not make her less powerful-- on the contrary, it is a beautiful thing to see a noble woman matched to a noble man, whose joint influence bring great things to pass (we all know countless examples of such men and women, and I am infinitely grateful to have myriad such couples in my circle of friends and associations). 2) Just because a woman isn't married doesn't make her powerful. She might just be a victim of circumstance, or her would-be suitors are possibly turned-off because she is a shrew or something. It is scientifically preposterous to assume all single women are powerful. This is certainly not the case.
But for the sake of my own situation, I must admit I have often wondered just what my place in this world is. I'm clearly no potentate. I'm not Queen Elizabeth I, in such a position that love could not conquer, and marriage would compromise my position and station in life. While not without suitors, and at the risk of sounding picky (oh! the dreaded p-word or single people everywhere), my heart beats regularly, and hasn't skipped in a long time. Fawning admiration does not turn my head, nor am I impressed with macho tokens of love like overstuffed animals won at a State Fair midway. A degree of thoughtlessness can be tolerated if my beloved is engaged in a greater good, so long as it is not consistent. Many thanks to an early boyfriend who never treated me like a convenience-- he may have spoiled me, but I've come to expect it. Though battle-scarred, I am not wounded. I still maintain hope and happiness, but I now go with my gut in the matters of the heart, and if the man smells funny to me, I don't feel obligated to give him a chance.
For all you Debbie-Downers and Negative Nancys out there, let me stop you before you call me bitter and jaded. I am not. I believe in love, because I know it exists. I know it exists because I give it out (and probably more than this self-involved post would lead you to believe). I walk confidently because I'm aware God has a plan for me. I am far from forsaken. My life is rich, and I am powerful, and this month, as all others, I celebrate the love in my life. Please join me in increasing your own power by giving love out-- married, coupled or single. It's grand.
