Spinster

I wasn’t going to write about this on my blog, but after talking to a couple of friends today, I decided that it would be nice to put what I’m feeling into words.

A couple of weeks ago, I met a very nice guy at a bar. Usually, I don’t meet people at bars (or I end up drunkenly hitting on whoever is standing next to me); either way, I generally don’t put much stock in using drinking establishments as a place to collect dates. However, things happen as they will, and I’m not one to complain when they do.

So, I met this guy and we went out on a few dates. Immediately, I was attracted to his open-mindedness, his impeccable manners, his conscientiousness and regard for the people and the world around him, and damn, he was a good kisser to boot. He is an actual adult–he knows what he wants to do with his life and is doing it. He called when he said he would call and seemed to genuinely want to spend time with me. I have dated enough guys to know that this is rare. Even though I consider myself to be a relatively attractive and interesting person, worthy of spending time with, I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been disappointed when something that I thought would work out, hoped would work out, didn’t. With this guy, I didn’t feel the need to play games, or stress about whether or not he was playing games–I knew that I didn’t and he wasn’t.

Last Wednesday was Dave’s birthday and myself and a group of friends went out to celebrate. We were sitting around a table, having drinks, when the guy turned to me and started asking me about my degree and what kind of jobs/careers it will lead to. Somehow, the conversation turned to his career. He’s in marketing and loves it. He is business oriented and would like to one day be CEO of a company. This may sound insane, but those things set off major alarm bells. I’m not what one would call ambitious. Sure, I want a career and if I happen to make a decent living, great. However, I am not at all interested in making my career my life. I am not at all interested in becoming wealthy. When I expressed those views on Wednesday night, the guy told me that he would really like to know what it feels like to drop tons of cash on a car, and if he has his job and squash (the game, not the gourd), then life is good.

That killed me.

Manners? Check. Attractive? Check. Intelligent? Check. Awesome kisser? Check. Interested in me? Check.

But oh God, despite him having all of those lovely qualities, I cannot be with someone who values material objects that highly, and I can’t be with someone who doesn’t put people first. I am sure that I’m prejudiced against rich people and prejudices are bad blah blah blah, but growing up in a wealthy suburb, I saw the bad side of wealth too many times to desire it for my own life. I firmly believe that, as long as your quality of life is comfortable and decent, your passions and the people in your life should be your priorities.

And that sucks. SUCKS. I wish that I could ignore the drive, the desire for the stereotypical status symbol, and just be content that I met someone who is wonderful in so many ways, but I can’t.

So, what makes a connection? It used to be enough, in high school, to go out with someone cause you thought they were cute. I always thought it would get easier as I got older, as I figured out more about who I am and what I want, but it’s so much harder cause now fewer and fewer people fit into my self-determined standards. Sometimes I can’t believe that anyone, anywhere, ever meets someone they connect with, let alone dates that person, let alone falls in love with and marries that person. So many ingredients have to be right for that particular recipe to come together; leave one out, or try to substitute it for something similar, and you have on your hands a disaster in the making.

I guess the only thing to do is to know yourself–really know yourself, know who you are and what you want, what you’ll compromise on and what you won’t–and just trust that, while there are so many people who will come this close, there is no point in forcing something that isn’t meant to be.

Sometimes when I post on this blog, I try hard to think of a good title. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. Today I gave it about five seconds and then said, to hell with it. You can’t be clever all the time.

Anyway, the new issue of Knitty is up and I’m disappointed once again. Why is the entire issue nothing but socks and hats, two things I rarely knit? I am firmly entrenched in sweater land and have no desire to knit socks (no one ever sees them) or hats (I look like a 12-year-old in them). I understand that summer is not the time for sweaters, but at least throw me a tank top.
And angel wings do not count.
Sigh. God, I was so going to leave it at that, but why be shy? Angel wings? Are. You. Freakin. Kidding?? Why, just because it can be knit, do people assume that it should? The designer is obviously a creative young woman and I guess that if she wants to knit angel wings there’s nothing stopping her, but I would love to see her put her talents toward something that doesn’t scream “church bazaar.”

And, I’m back.

Despite a lack of decent patterns, I discovered that all is not lost at Knitty. I jumped over to the articles section of the magazine. Lo and behold, I found a treasure trove of information. Knitty may not be taking as much of an, ahem, editorial role in pattern selection as perhaps they should be, but they sure are doing something right with their featured articles. I learned about new ways of binding off and cool knitting podcasts, found some good resources on color theory as it pertains to knitting and finally, got all revved up to go to fiber festivals this fall.