Pity Me Pink

While I was home a couple weeks ago, we stopped by an elderly friend of the family's home. He was terribly ill and my mom, being the living saint that she is, wanted to stop and visit and bring him some fresh cut flowers. I hadn't seen him in years and years, and it was nice to see him once again - such a sweet man. As we were getting ready to leave, he said, "Rachel, how old are you now? And are you unmarried?"

When I told him, he looked confused and said, "What is wrong with you women these days? Why aren't any of you married? I have a 25-year-old granddaughter and she isn't married either! Pfft."

I bantered back with a light-hearted, "Because, Cal, there aren't any men left out there worth marrying any more!"

He laughed, but, still looked confused (I'm going with confused here with hopes that it wasn't a look of utter disgust). And as I hugged him goodbye, he whispered through his nose tube, "Honey, go find yourself a husband." Argh.

Unfortunately, Cal passed away a few days ago and will be missed terribly.

My mom informed me of his passing and wanted me to understand that he had one final wish- apparently, Cal took it upon himself in his dying days to come up with an easy, cupidesque solution to my spinsterism. He requested that my mother make sure that I met his grandson, a twenty-something "golf course landscaper who went to college" who lives in Erie, Pennsylvania. Yup - three timezones away. Oh ok, I'll get right on that.

Great. A dying man had nothing more pressing to think about than my lovelife (or in his eyes, lack thereof).

Now, with initial flattery aside (I am proud to know that Cal thought of me in his final days), let's focus on one thing - old people don't get it. They don't get that the days of pinning, going steady, poodle skirts and white picket fences are over. They have since been replaced with the complexities of technology, careers, $2,600 rent for studio apartments, casual sex and Manolo Blahniks (had to throw something awesome in there).

I'm not saying that "happily ever after" is over, but, it sure is a hell of a lot harder to find (in your 20s) than before.

What I wish I had time to explain to Cal (and oldies around the world who harass the crap out of their grandchildren) is that the weeding-out process of "selecting" a partner has been severely delayed for a large number of people (such as I) due to all of modern life's intricacies - particularly in major cities (although his "old fart" grandson is striking out in Erie, PA too). Women, and men alike, strive for more than the '67 Chevy and the 2.5 rugrats. In 2002, women made up over 55% of the college population - that's 55% fewer women in their mid and late 20s at home making Rice Krispy Treats and ironing pleats in their husbands' polyester pants (yay!). In turn, we, as a collective society, smack our marriage snooze alarms.

Hey - I didn't make the rules - I just live them.

I just wonder, at what age will we start (if ever) harassing our children and grandchildren to get married? If 40 is the new 20 as they say, this whole rite of passage may just become extinct - and if that's the case - what will I think about on my deathbed? Oh. Manolos. Ahhhhhh.

Rest in peace, Cal.