I Choose "Me"

Julie Newmar as Cat Woman

There is a wonderful line, in Sex in the City, where the enigmatic Samantha, faces Richard, and says, “I love you, but I love me more.” She, in that moment, embodies all that I hope I have taught my daughter and now understand, myself.

I am, for the first time since I was 19, alone…no man. None. Nada. Zip. And…I am happy, joyful, feeling like I did when I was a child. Oh, I suppose it’s not the same, as I had Mom, who loved me up, down and all around. She believed in me when I did not believe in myself. She gave me the most precious gift of all…she called me “unique and wonderful.” She treated me with care, consistency and laughed at my “stuff.”

I thought men would do that too. They didn’t. But I kept coming back for more. So, here I am at age 63, closing in on 64, and it’s “me.” Yesterday, I bought a pair of round, Rose colored sunglasses very reminicent of Janice Joplin. I love them! I used to have a pair of rose colored glasses, but the man I was “with” told me they “looked like children’s glasses” so I stopped wearing them. I was 24.

Yesterday, I sat in a chair on my front porch, black, dark roast coffee (uncovered-one man couldn’t stand the smell of my coffee so I always had to cover it), with the rain pouring. It was sublime. My window boxes (which are actually “railing boxes”-so cool) stuffed with geraniums framed my view. The temptation was to ask myself, “Why have I never done this?” Well, for starters, I haven’t lived in a house with a covered front porch since my family lived in a gorgeous Victorian in 1967. And secondly, no one man wanted to sit in the rain with me.

My daughter sat with me, and we had a grand time…hours went by. No one saying, “What’s for dinner?” “Did you do the laundry?” No TV blaring in the background. Just the sounds of nature interspersed with the enchanting voices of others on their porches, and the distant sound of the train. (Okay, the train is not that distant, it’s two streets away, but I happen to love the clickty clack and the train whistle, so for me, it is like something out of a 1960’s children’s story.)

I choose me. My daughter is my favorite person in the world, so living with her helps to expand me, keeps me questioning life, buying books (we are obsessed with reading), and also remembering to be “me.” Okay, okay, I can easily go into Hermit Mode and she reminds me to leave this wonderful home to see other things. I am thankful for that.

They say (whoever “they” are) that married men live longer, than single men, but I’ve never read anywhere that married women live longer than single women. I have a dear friend, who shared recently that he has friends who are married, but live in separate houses. They get along better than when they lived together. Truly, this sounds sublime. You are connected and you get to be “you.” None of the shit that goes with the “work” of relationships…dirty socks, dinner “on time,” TV on, and the whole list of things I hate.

Now, do I wish I had come to these revelations sooner? Oh, hell yeah! But, I didn’t. I have a fellow writing friend (we’ve never met in person) who recently wrote a fabulous substack about cat men. (Men who love cats). I have been in relationships with dog men.(Well…my first love was a keeper, but we were both too young) I am…a cat woman. I choose “me.”

Thank you for reading my piece today. And you…are you a cat woman/man?