Playful Peach #6
I was back where it all began and, although I never thought it possible, more lonely than I was before. It started and ended at the mountains.
Hitting the slopes alone is depressing at first. I couldn’t help but glance at the children struggling to make it down the mountain with patient parents right along side of them, or the groups of teenagers trying to show off, each boy jumping higher and almost, but not quite, hurting himself. It makes you feel lonely to realize that if you fall no one will be there to help you, or if you finally make it off the lift no one will cheer with you. But, I had gotten used to feeling alone being a single woman in your 30’s doesn’t welcome much company.
I had convinced myself in typical ‘Sex and the City’ fashion, that I was okay with being single. I had a great job as a lawyer, an apartment in Manhattan and a house in Vermont where I could go skiing whenever I wanted. Sure, it was lonely at times going away for the weekend by yourself, and I don’t think I will ever get my mother to stop nagging me to find a husband, but my ship had sailed. My dark hair now had streaks of gray and my face had deep smile lines from too many years of trying to be pleasant. So my life wasn’t perfect, no ones is, but at least I was content.
It was on one of those lonely mountain trips that things changed and at the time, I thought it was for the better. Riding the ski lift up after what I felt was a particularly good run I saw a man sitting at the top of the lift and I thought he might be waiting for me. Then I thought I was being delusional because this man looked attractive and normal which meant that he obviously wasn’t waiting for me. When I did get attention from men they were usually a little crazy and balding. This man appeared to be sane and have a full head of hair so he couldn’t have been waiting for me. But he was.
“Hi there,” he said as he waved me towards him.
I of course fell as soon as I got off the lift, (awesome) and he rushed over to help me up.
“Are you okay?” he asked looking concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said while blushing as red as a rose. He gracefully allowed me to recover looking away as I shook the snow off my butt. He then asked me if I wanted to take a break and get some coffee. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me; a normal, attractive man was talking to me. I was so shocked I stumbled over my words, but finally accepted.
What happened next was a blur it happened so fast. I found out that he lived in New York and was a Corporate Attorney. He and I had grown up a few neighborhoods apart which in a normal place would have made the two people think it was odd that they hadn’t met, but we were from New York and knew full well that someone who lived two houses down you probably would never meet. After that meeting on the mountain we spent every second that we weren’t working (which for two lawyers isn’t that much time) together. After a month we were engaged and after two we were married.
My mother was thrilled of course, and I felt like people treated me differently now, no one gave me the re-assuring pat and head nod that said, “don’t worry, you probably won’t die alone.” It was nice to know that you had someone to go away with on the weekends and someone to share a Netflix queue with. It was all nice, at first.
But soon I found myself just as alone as I was before, except this time it was worse. I quickly realized the reason why Mark was 43 and single: he was a workaholic. And not just a little bit, a lot. I know we are both lawyers, but I wasn’t married to my work like he was. On the nights that he did come home it wasn’t until 11 or later. He had a bed at his office, so he usually slept there during the week. Once again I found myself back to convincing myself that it was okay to be alone or even that I preferred it. Now I had time to go to the gym I would reassuringly tell myself.
It was worse because now I longed for someone else. Before I would dream up what a man would be like but it was never tangible to me. Now I did have a man but I didn’t at the same time. He didn’t have time to come to Vermont with me or to hit the slopes with me or do anything with me. I was alone again.
And that was all I thought about as I looked at our snow covered backyard. I was back in Vermont, this time at our house. He didn’t come up, not that it would have mattered if he was here he would have shut himself up in the study to do his work anyway. The white powder glistened fresh and clean, perfectly untouched. I would never have kids to go back there and make forts or have snowball fights. Mark didn’t want to have kids and even if he did, we never had sex so it didn’t matter. As I looked out over the cold snow I wondered what I ever did to deserve to be so alone.
Hitting the slopes alone is depressing at first. I couldn’t help but glance at the children struggling to make it down the mountain with patient parents right along side of them, or the groups of teenagers trying to show off, each boy jumping higher and almost, but not quite, hurting himself. It makes you feel lonely to realize that if you fall no one will be there to help you, or if you finally make it off the lift no one will cheer with you. But, I had gotten used to feeling alone being a single woman in your 30’s doesn’t welcome much company.
I had convinced myself in typical ‘Sex and the City’ fashion, that I was okay with being single. I had a great job as a lawyer, an apartment in Manhattan and a house in Vermont where I could go skiing whenever I wanted. Sure, it was lonely at times going away for the weekend by yourself, and I don’t think I will ever get my mother to stop nagging me to find a husband, but my ship had sailed. My dark hair now had streaks of gray and my face had deep smile lines from too many years of trying to be pleasant. So my life wasn’t perfect, no ones is, but at least I was content.
It was on one of those lonely mountain trips that things changed and at the time, I thought it was for the better. Riding the ski lift up after what I felt was a particularly good run I saw a man sitting at the top of the lift and I thought he might be waiting for me. Then I thought I was being delusional because this man looked attractive and normal which meant that he obviously wasn’t waiting for me. When I did get attention from men they were usually a little crazy and balding. This man appeared to be sane and have a full head of hair so he couldn’t have been waiting for me. But he was.
“Hi there,” he said as he waved me towards him.
I of course fell as soon as I got off the lift, (awesome) and he rushed over to help me up.
“Are you okay?” he asked looking concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said while blushing as red as a rose. He gracefully allowed me to recover looking away as I shook the snow off my butt. He then asked me if I wanted to take a break and get some coffee. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me; a normal, attractive man was talking to me. I was so shocked I stumbled over my words, but finally accepted.
What happened next was a blur it happened so fast. I found out that he lived in New York and was a Corporate Attorney. He and I had grown up a few neighborhoods apart which in a normal place would have made the two people think it was odd that they hadn’t met, but we were from New York and knew full well that someone who lived two houses down you probably would never meet. After that meeting on the mountain we spent every second that we weren’t working (which for two lawyers isn’t that much time) together. After a month we were engaged and after two we were married.
My mother was thrilled of course, and I felt like people treated me differently now, no one gave me the re-assuring pat and head nod that said, “don’t worry, you probably won’t die alone.” It was nice to know that you had someone to go away with on the weekends and someone to share a Netflix queue with. It was all nice, at first.
But soon I found myself just as alone as I was before, except this time it was worse. I quickly realized the reason why Mark was 43 and single: he was a workaholic. And not just a little bit, a lot. I know we are both lawyers, but I wasn’t married to my work like he was. On the nights that he did come home it wasn’t until 11 or later. He had a bed at his office, so he usually slept there during the week. Once again I found myself back to convincing myself that it was okay to be alone or even that I preferred it. Now I had time to go to the gym I would reassuringly tell myself.
It was worse because now I longed for someone else. Before I would dream up what a man would be like but it was never tangible to me. Now I did have a man but I didn’t at the same time. He didn’t have time to come to Vermont with me or to hit the slopes with me or do anything with me. I was alone again.
And that was all I thought about as I looked at our snow covered backyard. I was back in Vermont, this time at our house. He didn’t come up, not that it would have mattered if he was here he would have shut himself up in the study to do his work anyway. The white powder glistened fresh and clean, perfectly untouched. I would never have kids to go back there and make forts or have snowball fights. Mark didn’t want to have kids and even if he did, we never had sex so it didn’t matter. As I looked out over the cold snow I wondered what I ever did to deserve to be so alone.
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