The Single Rider

We ended yesterday’s post with:

My first installment of insight from K is advice designed to enable me to judge a person’s character. I should first observe how a person treats service people like drivers and waiters, even if they are not nice to him. Two, I should observe what the person says about people who are not present. Third, and I need to quote this because he put it so succinctly – “money or time, which is more important? Would you rather have the gift of company, or just a gift?”

Now, the first two things are just common sense things that I already do. I am all about observing behavior to determine what makes someone tick. But number three, this gives a girl pause. With number three, we not only observe, but we measure too. Number three is all about the scientific method, all about believing in that which is observable and measurable.

Women are socialized to value the showering of gifts. We learn this from other women – our mothers, sisters, friends – and we start doing it basically from the moment we start dating. It becomes important to us because it is important to them; that is to say, I don’t think we’re born this way, I think we’re socialized this way. Everyone is judged by the value of the gifts. We judge the man by the gifts he gives us for our birthdays, Valentine’s Day, or “just because”. We judge each other by how good the gifts from men are. Remember the girls in HS who wore ankle bracelets on chains around their necks? Remember how much the other girls envied them? There were also girls who had “his ring” on a chain around their necks (I was one of those briefly, but not in high school). Or the girls who wore the guy’s letter jacket, how about those? Oh, I have another good one, from later in life – the parade of flowers in the office on Valentine’s Day. The women who don’t get any are envious and curse the sight of all those 1-800-FLOWERS vans parked outside the building.

So, the jewelry, the flowers, the branding of her with his letterman jacket – these are all outward signs of his esteem for her, which in turn contributes to her own self-esteem. It also elevates her status among her peers, which is another boost to her self-esteem. Later on it’s engagement rings, cars, houses, vacations… things, always things.

You know what, I think this is a throwback to the times of dowries. A dowry is money, goods/property that a woman’s father would provide so she could establish her marriage household with her new husband. The more “stuff” that was associated with her, the more valuable it was to marry her. See, it wasn’t the woman herself that was valued – it was the stuff. No stuff, no value!

In some cultures, there was even a tradition of the groom settling a monetary gift on the bride the morning after the wedding night. This gift would help to ensure her future should something happen to him, and it was also an indication that she’d proven satisfactory and that he intended to keep her.

A woman’s worth to herself and to others has probably been all tied up in the tangible, the material, basically since the invention of patriarchy. Some man – either her lover or her father – was always either giving or receiving STUFF in connection with her. To this day,we women still seem to be measuring ourselves and each other by the baubles he brings. I want to make it clear that, although I think without a doubt that patriarchy was initially responsible for this, it’s we women today in 2009 that are perpetuating it, foisting it upon ourselves and each other. We need to cut this shit out, and start walking the talk of self-worth.

For many women, having a man – ANY man – is the ultimate proof of their own worth. It’s proof to themselves as well as to the world at large. On a certain level, I get how seductive this is. I’ve been single a long time, and I know that there have been situations whereby my lack of a man – ANY man – has made me seem “less than” in the eyes of those around me. It’s worth so much to some women, they have actually expressed sympathy for my “plight”. Some of those times, I’ve wished fleetingly that I had a man – ANY man – to make me seem “more than” in their eyes, to wipe that smug, pseudo-sympathetic look off their faces. I get over this feeling pretty quickly. It gets replaced with the desire to kick their asses for making me feel that way – even fleetingly.

Well, it IS lonely sometimes. But you know, lonliness is not THEIR reason for not wanting to be manless. Many women, some of the very ones who have pitied me – these women are sometimes the ones that see a man as a means to an end, not as the end itself. They want the THINGS, the candy and flowers and jewelry, so they can feel like they are worth something, and they believe this is the ONLY way they can feel like they are worth something. Stuff, things – these are tangible proof of his esteem for her, and therefore of her worth.

I make a good living and I can buy STUFF for myself. Those who have known me for a while know that this is true – I deny myself basically nothing. Veni, Vidi, Visa I don’t need a man to give me things. His gifts will, of course, make me feel good, but my self-worth comes from different places. It comes from accomplishments. It comes from going back to school and getting another degree while in my 40s, and from having a successful career on Wall Street. It grew from all those operas I memorized and performed in foreign languages, and all the applause and praise that resulted. My self-esteem comes from knowing that my friends and family think the world of me, and from knowing when I’ve done the right thing.

Now mind you, I would not turn down the gifts; I would appreciate him a lot for gifting me with them, but really, that’s not what I would need him for. ‘Way back then, when I was a teenager, and even into my thirties – yes, I wanted the ankle bracelet and the esteem that went with it. But now? Yeah, it’s the gift of company. Here and now, in 2009, that’s what I want. And it can’t be just ANY man, either – but I think this is long enough, and that’s a post for another day.

© 2009, The Single Rider. All rights reserved.

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