Another species

I don't understand other women.
Clarification: I have some deep and abiding friendships with specific women. But, in general, I feel that I don't understand most women.

I was at an event this evening: a dinner with army men and their wives. "J" invited me. He didn't clarify to anyone at the gig that we weren't a couple so I figured this was one of the reasons for my invitation: he wanted someone with makeup and coiffed hair to sit next to him and keep him from looking divorced and alone.

There were three women, apart from me. One was a lawyer with experience working in the White House. The remaining two women seemed to affiliate themselves exclusively with their husband's careers, so it was difficult to know if they had identities of their own. One was a lovely pregnant person, and the other looked to be vying for the position of trophy wife (TW).

TW clearly had some work done (at least the boobs. Probably more). She was blonde with lean legs and short-short-you-can-see-my-butt-cleavage-shorts. Early forties, I guessed. Both her shorts and the silk blouse with the plunging neckline were white. Funny, when you consider that this was a "eat boiled shrimp and sausage with your hands" dinner with plenty of Old Bay to go around. I wonder what her plan was...

They were nice. All of them. But I really think I would have shot myself if I'd been trapped in a room with them by myself for more than a couple of hours. We all have vaginas and breasts, but I think that this is where the similarities end. I really don't think we are the same species. The things that they talked about; the things that they valued; the things that they wanted; they were in no way related to me.

Because they assumed I was with "J", there was some twittery conversation about single women that I found fascinating. There was a general sense of self-satisfaction that they had already snagged their husbands, and pity for those women who hadn't. TW had a male friend who was 41 and single. He'd been dating a 36-year-old chick, but wasn't sure he was going to marry her. TW advised him to move on - for her sake. She viewed it as cruelty if you led a 36-year-old woman on. The other army wife agreed that this was very sound advice.

Of course, the irony of the age she named was not lost on me. I am also 36 years old. It occurred to me that there was an unspoken agreement that it was awful and pitiful and worrying if you were alone at 36 - and that you'd better find a guy to marry. Fast. Both of them talked about all of the really talented and beautiful women in their thirties who were single. As though it was some sort of contagious disease! Then it occurred to me that I wasn't panicked about being alone. I think it's a likely scenario for me. And, frankly, it kicks the ass of being with someone you don't adore. I would have fucking loved being married to Sjors because I loved everything about him and he was my match. But any of the other men I've tried to date since? Naw. Not so keen on that idea. I wonder: is this agreed-upon-panic even reasonable, or is it imposed on us by some other rule-maker? It certainly doesn't seem to bother men too much if they're alone at 36-years-old.

So, here's what I think: women are told to worry about these things because if they're worrying about superficial markers and status symbols, they don't spend their time thinking about things that really matter. They don't become big problem solvers and deep thinkers. They don't value themselves and their contribution to the world, because they're told that their value is to support their husband's contribution. And, because they don't value themselves, they will not demand equal pay for equal work, and they will feel catty and judgmental about other women. They will be competitors with other women for the attention of men. They will not be sisters.

Sometimes I think about that moment when the HR lady, Pearl, tried to manipulate me by telling me that my work was appreciated by other people and I responded, unemotionally, that this was because I was a "damned good analyst."

I think it's bad that I don't relate to these women. I think I have to do this at some point: get into their head space and do what I can to make them sisters. Because, even though they follow the social rules, I can't believe that the paradigm is one that they invented.  And people shouldn't be trapped by paradigms.