I came of age smack dab in the middle of the 1950s-60s, the single most tumultuous time of the 20th Century for a free-spirited, independent young girl. Caught between "old fashioned Italian family values" and a whole new world of self-rule, I wasn't about to miss out on anything that marriage would have precluded.
Not that I wasn't asked, more times than I can count. But something about waking up to the same face for the rest of my life irked the shit out of me, and I just couldn't do it, regardless of the consequences (and there were many.)
Was it tough? Yeah, financially, it was a bitch on wheels; still is, but I refuse to let go of what little freedom there is to be found in this thing called life. Did it leave me in a precarious position within my so-called family, old-school neighborhood, circle of friends? Sure did, but I couldn't care less, then and now. So what if I wore an invisible scarlet letter branded on my forehead from the time when I was expected to be "keeping company" up until I no longer gave a damn what anyone thought? I remained true to myself, and that's all that ever really mattered to me.
I never wanted children, annoying little no-necks that they are, so Reason #1 for marriage went straight out the window early on. Reason #2, Prince Charming was MIA, and I wasn't about to settle for anything less. And I was smart enough to hold down some pretty impressive jobs in one lifetime...not a lot of money, but enough to stay single and be happy about it. And Reason #3, being married to please others just didn't cut it for me.
Which leads me to wonder just how many women settled for something less, as long as a) they had their "family" and b) a steady source of income/security even if they had to swim through miles (and years) of someone else's crap? I have come to discover far more than care to admit. Not for me. I was never one to climb on someone else's bank account to further my position in the world. And if Marriage #1 didn't work out, would there be Marriage #2, Marriage #3, ad infinitum, until I got it 'right'? I don't THINK so.
And when I did, at age 48, finally "settle down," it took all of seven weeks to pack it in and leave it all behind, with a heart-stopping shudder. I waited 48 years for THAT??
Ironically, the only song that ever had my name in it was a proposal: "Hey, hey Paula, I want to marry you..." I always cut them off with a resounding NO.
A dear friend once wrote me, when I was still in my 30s, that if I didn't make a decision soon, I'd wind up a "wrinkled old lady, alone in the world." So what?
My dearest Arturo, wherever you may be in the universe, that time has arrived and it ain't so bad, after all.
