The Golden Years Look Pretty Golden

A wonderful couple I've known for thirty years just celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary. Wow. Fifty years. That seems amazing to me. In this day and age, it is amazing. Marriages don't tend to last "til death do us part." It's more like til the marriage dies for one or both parties.

Ironically enough, I left the Bridal Barn to go work at a law office. The attorney I'm temporarily assisting happens to specialize in "Marriage Dissolution." Oh, how my life takes a turn on a dime. I'm sure there is some lesson here. Can you just imagine me answering the phone one day "Good afternoon, Divorce Attorneys R Us," and it's one of my brides on the other end of the line. Okay, that's morbid, I know. Besides, given the fact that both jobs were/are so temporary, it's highly unlikely.

Some stats:

43% of first time marriages end within 15 years. I signed my divorce papers just one and a half months before our 15th anniversary. This wasn't planned. I did not have this information on hand when choosing to divorce. It's not as if I was thinking, "hmmm...our 15 year limit is about up, better get those papers filed in time."

The average lifespan of a marriage is eight years. Okay, so you get to the seven year itch and then it takes another year to get everything in order?

75% of all divorced people remarry, usually within three years. I'm on the seventh year with no future prospects in place. But I might be an unusual case study. In any case, I'm perfectly happy not being married. However, a partner would be cool, eventually.

Considering how difficult it is to find a partner at age forty-$!&, maybe finding one and getting married at age 18 like my friends and then sticking it out through thick and thin (and I'm pretty sure there were plenty of thick and thin times within that 50 years) isn't such a bad idea. I'm sure it wasn't a 50 year honeymoon. No one is perfect. Today these two are (at least seem to be) happier than ever. And from what I hear from the grapevine (their information sharing daughter) they are having sex like rabbits. OK, besides thinking "Ick, I don't need to know this," I'm both envious and inspired. Maybe my current "lean" years are setting me up for an active later phase that's sure to come.

Regardless of the stats about divorce rates, I feel confident that those family and friends in my life today will be celebrating their Golden Anniversaries as well. I don't know why I feel that way. My pretend-to-be-jaded self aside (I've been accused of being a romantic even), I do believe they will survive til death do them part. For one thing, I'm certainly looking forward to all the upcoming parties. Especially if they are as fun as my friends' party which included a live backyard band and dancing all afternoon on the grass dance floor!

Congratulations Janice and Wayne!

In Response

I just want to clarify in response to all the comments regarding my recent post "Urban Girl, Suburban Boys," I'm not actually opposed to dating men from the suburbs. THEY seem to have difficulty coming into the city. I am limited by my own lack of transportation. If Federal Way boy from the airplane ever actually called me, I'd be all too thrilled to date him. I thought we were having a connection. When, in fact, we were just having a conversation 35,000 ft above sea level.

Obviously, I was light headed. sigh.

My Life Not Lost

You may notice I've changed the title of my blog from "Lost in Transition" to "My Life in Transition." I decided after almost 3 years the word "Lost" has a bit of a negative connotation. After delving into such books as "The Law of Attraction," "The Secret", and "The Alchemist," as well being a believer that we attract what we dwell upon, I decided being "lost" isn't what I wanted to dwell upon or create for myself.

In reality, I'm not actually lost at all. I'm simply transitioning, and, while going through the process of discovering my next career has become somewhat of a career in and of itself, I do think I am on the right path. I've got a basic, although fuzzy, outline of where I'm headed. With each little side step or diversion along the way, I learn something new, gain an additional skill, meet interesting a valuable people, and have an experience (usually good, sometimes questionable).

My sales consultant career at the 'Bridal Barn' has come to a close. Weirdly enough I actually enjoyed working there the past five months. What could be more fun than dressing excited girls up like princesses all day? Hell, there are days I wouldn't mind dressing up in some ridiculously expensive frock and doing a runway walk. It's been three weeks and I sort of miss my brides, as well as my co-workers. Ah well, on to the next adventure. Currently I'm working in a law firm downtown for a few months, thanks to my wonderful sister-in-law who is always looking out for me. Another play, another cast of characters. The work isn't nearly as fun as the bridal shop, but fun, as well all know, rarely pays as well.

While describing my latest temp job to a friend her immediate response was "Wow, that's great! This could go somewhere. You might decide you want to get into paralegal work or something. This is good for your resume. You never know where this could lead."

I must have been looking at her sideways, because she was quickly snapped back to the reality of who she was talking about.

"Oh, that's not you is it?"

Although that is not my ultimate career goal, she is right about one thing. You never know what one thing might lead to. I honestly enjoy trying out different types of work and switching it up every few months. For seventeen years I worked in the insurance industry and while definitely more lucrative, I became bored and frustrated to tears (literally some days).

So no, "lost" I am not. I am on the exact path I'm suppose to be on, although it may not be a path others can appreciate or even see from their own maps. I'm certain that I'll arrive in the right place at the right time.

Urban Girl and Suburban Boys

My friend "S" keeps lamenting about getting online pursuits from men who live in the least desirably geographically located towns (or just undesirable in general. It's all subjective.), i.e. Sequim, Duvall, Sedro Woolley. She is no more a country bumpkin than Eva Gabor from Green Acres. Seems I, too, am the attraction for "out of towners". However, mine are more suburban in nature.

One such suitor began “IMing” (another improper verb, by the way) while I was online. I checked out his profile which stated he lived in Seattle. He wanted to meet me, but upon further investigation I learned he actually lives in Woodinville. Woodinville is NOT Seattle. If your address isn’t Seattle, you don’t post that you live in Seattle. If you’re traveling abroad, you could say you live ‘near Seattle.’ You could also say you live 45 minutes outside of Seattle or you live in the ‘greater Seattle area.’ By no means are you a "Seattelite."

At first he says Seattle isn’t all that far, yet quickly the conversation takes a turn and he begins to fret about parking downtown. Okay, HE pursued ME. My profile states that I actually live in Seattle and I don’t own a car. Read: YOU are driving to ME. We never met.

Such alarming suburban comments regarding parking, traffic and favorite restaurants that include Applebee’s and Macaroni Grill are clear signs that these men are not for me.

The next guy who wanted to meet me was from Everett. He did make the trek to my Queen Anne neighborhood for Thai food without complaint (a plus), but there was absolutely no love connection so I sent him back to the North Pole.

A couple of weeks ago, a fella drove in from Bothell. He called to tell me he was running late as he was sitting in I-5 Friday afternoon traffic and once he gets to our meeting area it might take him some time to find parking for his very large truck. Oiy Vey.

On my recent trip to San Diego, I met an interesting character who seemed quite engaged during our flight. Okay, so he was occupying the window seat and pretty much pinned in forced to listen to my tales and anecdotes. Turns out he was headed back to San Diego to pack his bags and move to Seattle and start a new job. This was sounding promising. After six hours of lively conversation and banter (my version of how this went), I offered to give him my contact info so I could show him around his new city once he arrived.

While he was entering my number into his Blackberry, I asked what neighborhood he would be living in. I was holding my breath listening for neighborhoods like Belltown, Queen Anne or Capitol Hill. Actually, any Seattle neighborhood would have been suitable. His answer: Federal Way.

I think I turned blue waiting for a more appealing answer. Needless to say, he hasn’t called.