When my grandmother was my age, she was already an old ball and chain (quite a hot one if you take a look at the black and white pics) with two kids and a few more on the way.
Here I am in my mid-twenties without even a shadow of a domestic life, or a male partner in crime.
Yes, I can throw down in the kitchen like Giada De Laurentiis, but that doesn't make me wife-ish. The point is that times have changed drastically since my grandmother' time, not even touching on the fact that she came up in India, in a very oppressive atmosphere. No one expects me to have a boyfriend or a husband, the same way no one expected to my grandma to have a career.
Which brings me back to last week and the topic of expectations, the things we hope for from ourselves and others. No matter what a woman says, no matter how liberated and how much of a "player" she is, she always lets her imagination get a little carried away from her on a great first date.
For example, a guy I went out with for the first time told me -- in the middle of a stimulating conversation and sparkling flirtation -- that he loves museums and wants me to take him on a tour of my very favorite Ancient Egyptian wing of the Brooklyn Museum.
That was a disarming and personalized pick-up line. Immediately, I couldn't help but envision us, gliding on air through the exhibits on a lazy Sunday afternoon, him complimenting me on my insider's knowledge of the Napoleon/Sphinx conspiracy. Oh please, we're all slightly narcissistic by nature.
Anyway, due to a plethora of assorted disconnects, this guy and I didn't even make it past the second date. My museum fantasy got flushed down the pooper before I could even plan an outfit. I was disappointed for about a day (it's summer, can't waste time crying over spilt milk when there's sexy gallons of 2% playing basketball in the courts right outside your apartment building).
Yes, Denise and I have had our eyes on the prize even if our summer fling contest has fizzled considerably. Is there such a thing as being too focused? Too positive about how smart/sweet/sexy a guy could possibly be? Some men are just duds. There, I said it.
I don't have a boyfriend goal but Lord knows I have some serious expectations. Ironically, Jon, the guy I really liked that moved away this summer is still on my mind. We still talk from time to time. I'm starting to realize that he's the bastard that's making me have these high expectations for men.
Summer is still in full flow, so I'm still in the game. Hey, I'll gladly sift through a few duds to get to the milk.