I love my mother desperately- I owe her my life, quite literally- but I also know that her insistence that I marry a doctor or lawyer- had me convinced that to do otherwise would be sacrilege. In fact as soon as I turned 18 she began dropping comments- not so discreetly, like; when was I going to get married, who I should marry, etc. Although I went to college- the goal was not to find my passion and a career – if I could find a stable job in the interim that would be lovely-but the trajectory of the adult phase of my life was to get married . And preferably to a doctor.
Don’t get me wrong I rebelled; went through a period where I didn’t speak to my parents- quit college, decided to go to acting school and got a job acting but the guilt of not pleasing my parents was more than I could bear. I so needed their approval- and so I went back to school and did the sensible thing- graduated with a degree in communications and started hardcore dating, nice Jewish doctors. I know the IRONY here is simply astounding. I probably dated every single specialist in NYC and end up marrying the one Nephrologist/Internist who decides he can no longer practice medicine. But I digress.
So why didn’t I date guys closer to my age… why date a man 15 years older than me? Did I set out to marry a sugar daddy?! No. Although I definitely had a bit of a Daddy complex and actively sought out older men to date. I guess I was looking for security, someone grounded, established in their career– ready to start a family. Ya see, once again the IRONY is TRAGIC. Because now I’m married to a 52-year-old unemployed guy who is anything but established.
The moral is reinvention in middle age is a bitch; and we are taking it day by day.