Thank you, Grace Kelly, for making a night of erotic indulgences seem ladylike. I don’t have a Mark Cross bag in which to secret overnight essentials like Lisa Carol Fremont did in Rear Window, but a boxy Ferragamo works just as well. And, for those times when you don’t plan ahead, run like hell. Don’t do a walk of shame – rather, run to the nearest subway, bus, or train stop. Not out of actual shame, but because your makeup is half-eaten-off, and you really don’t need the entire worshiping congregation of the Baptist church near your latest conquest’s home to see you ambling crookedly down the street in four-inch heels, with bedhead and ripped stockings to boot.
After a very sexually-deprived marriage (how do you not have sex on your honeymoon?), and a subsequent clinical depression and various addictions to numb the pain of the void, it really was time to jump back into the dating game. And it is a game; don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. When you’re 35 +, all those familiar dating rituals and crane dances are nonexistent. What you have at your disposal are other divorcĂ©es with baggage, young men, and very strange characters that don’t fit into any tidy category. I’ve run into all of them during the past few years. More »