When I moved to Stamford in 2013, I knew absolutely no one. My youngest son had gone to college in August of ‘12 and I moved in January of ’13. It was perfect timing in that I didn’t have to disrupt my children’s lives to relocate. I moved to Connecticut to start an East Coast office for our company. Initially, I was the only East Coast employee so I worked from a home office. I had a fabulous apartment on the 20th floor of a brand new building that had an unobstructed view of the New York City skyline across the Long Island Sound. I was the first person to live in that apartment. Actually, I was the first person on the whole floor, so it was very quiet until other neighbors moved in over the spring. But I was ALONE. No family. No friends. I didn’t even have a pet. Plus, if we are going make this pity party complete, I will point out that it was January. It was cold and the sun set at 4:30 pm so the nights went for-eh-vurr.
After years of raising three sons, I thought I would enjoy the peace and quiet and I did…for about a week. Then, I began to crave human interaction. (I talked to my work colleagues on the phone and met with our client, but that wasn’t the same). I began going to an upscale restaurant/bar in my neighborhood for dinner a few times a week. I would eat at the bar and talk to the bartender and other patrons. It fulfilled some of my social needs and made the nights go by a bit faster. Side bar: In the past, I had always thought that people who were “regulars” at bars were losers. You know those guys who sit on the same bar stool every night at the neighborhood pub? Mentally, I visualized a giant “L”, on their foreheads. Then one evening, I walked into my new neighborhood bar and people exclaimed, “Hey! Michele’s here!” I wondered, “Am I a loser?” I didn’t think so…. It gave me empathy for the people I had been so quick to judge in the past.
When you’re a regular at a neighborhood bar, who becomes your friends? Other regulars! In this case, it was other middle-aged single women who were primarily looking for husbands. More specifically: rich husbands. Over time, I began to think of them as the “Desperate Divorcees”. Later in the spring, as the weather warmed, I accepted their invitations to go to various happy hours. They were very strategic in choosing the locations in their quest to find rich husbands, i.e. “You don’t want to go to Darien or New Canaan. Those guys are all married.” Or “You don’t want to go to the Beer Garden. They’re all too young.” And “You don’t want to go to Port Chester. They don’t have any money.” (That seems harsh.)
A few times we went to an upscale restaurant/bar near the Greenwich train station known to be frequented by rich men who worked in the City. That totally backfired. The men our age were NOT interested in women our age. They wanted the 20- and 30-somethings, and there were plenty of them looking for rich older men. It made me feel old.
We went to another bar in Greenwich that supposedly catered to “an older crowd”. As we sat at the bar, I squinted at the menu. The bartender put a container of “readers” in front of me. I thought, “This really IS an older crowd!” A man who looked to be at least 80 repeatedly asked for my phone number. I wouldn’t give it to him. He kept going on and on about how rich he is and repeated, “I could change your life! I could change your life!” I thought, “This is where the rich guys from that other bar go after the young women lose interest in them.”
However, the ultimate story about these women’s quest for a rich husband had to do with a man’s “jewelry”. Three of us were sitting in a booth in a bar for happy hour. Two on one side and one on the other. A man stumbled over and sat down with us. The other women obviously knew him. The guy proceeded to put his leg up on the table, displaying an ankle monitor, and declared that he had just been released from prison.
What was the offense of this drunken man? Too many DUIs. I was stunned! I told him that I had never seen one of those before! I asked if I could take a picture of it and asked how it worked. “Does it shock you? How do they track you?” He slurred, “They only track me between 10 pm and 6 am so I can get as drunk as I want as long as I’m home by 10.” How depressing. Eventually, he got up and stumbled back towards the bar. As he walked away, one of the women commented, “That guy is loaded.” I replied, “I KNOW! He is so drunk!” She shook her head, then rubbed her fingers together indicating money and said, “No. I mean he is LOADED.” She raised her eyebrows and nodded her head like, “What a catch.” That is just wrong on so many levels.
Over the summer, the shallowness of some of these women really started to get to me. The final straw happened on a Saturday evening in September. I was back at “my” original bar and was introduced to a middle-aged woman that I had not met before. She looked kind of like a Barbie doll. Giant boobs. Skin tight clothes over a well-toned body. Long flowing highlighted hair, false eyelashes and lots of make-up. I was standing there talking to her when I noticed her eyes looking me up and down. When she finished her visual evaluation, she commented, “You’re pretty…….in a wholesome way…..we should hang out.” I was so ticked off! Basically, she was declaring that I am attractive enough to be in her presence, but not attractive enough to be a threat to her and her spectacular Barbie-ness. I wouldn’t be “competition”. Ugh.
Right then and there, I decided, “I need new friends!” The next day, I went to church and joined a small group. I had been attending Trinity for several months but had been reluctant to get involved. It seems like every time I join a group, I end up in charge of something. I signed up for a social group called, “Dining Around”, and within weeks, I had formed a new circle of friends. These were men and women who had a bit more depth. The circle continued to grow as I became more involved (And yes, I ended up in charge of various things. That’s what I do…)
Once, while telling someone about that summer with the Desperate Divorcees, I said that I had felt like “Mary Ann” hanging out with a bunch of “Gingers”. However, as the apostle Peter said in his first book, “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” – 1 Peter 3:3-4 (As I age, I’m really focusing on that “inner beauty” stuff!)
I still stay in touch with a few women from that summer. Joanne in particular. She was not a “Desperate Divorcee”. Just as Peter described, Joanne’s outward beauty becomes even more beautiful as her inner beauty shines through. And the new friendships that I have formed and maintained are with people who are similar. A true friend is someone who builds you up vs. tearing you down. “As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend.” – Proverbs 27:17
I would encourage you examine the company that you keep. If they make you feel in any way, “less than”, do what I did and get new friends! “Walk with the wise, and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harm.” – Proverbs 13:20
Cheers!