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The Cautionary Matrons

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October 20, 2009 | 7:20 p.m
Women with warnings: Wurtzel, Loh and Gottlieb.
Women with warnings: Wurtzel, Loh and Gottlieb.

I asked Caryne why she thought our mentors have taken to enjoining rather than encouraging us. She said she had to think about it and rang me a few days later.

“They are the first generation of women who were presented with choices,” she said. “I think they are in the process of reflecting on a half-century of existence and are realizing that ‘having it all’ was really a lie. Sometimes I think the idea of ‘having it all’ can almost be more disempowering than ‘having it all’ because one is never allowed enough time or energy to excel in one area of their life.”

When confronted with grim advice, some young women go on the offensive. Said Jenny of her Cautionary Matron: “I think there is an element of jealousy there. If she can go back and do it over again, she would. But she can’t and I’m here so …”

Ms. Gottlieb had a response to this: “I think it’s part denial and part arrogance. I get it because I used to be that way in my 20s. I wanted the fairy tale. I thought that I deserved to have it, that it was my inalienable right! So that’s the arrogance, and the denial is that they simply can’t acknowledge that they, too, could become these older regretful women who wished they knew what was important in love earlier on. We’re not envious—we’re wiser.”

Ms. Wurtzel echoes this sentiment, writing in her Elle piece: “Age is a terrible avenger. The lessons of life give you so much to work with, but by the time you’ve got all this great wisdom, you don’t get to be young anymore.” And later: “Oh, to be 25 again and get it right.”

When I contacted Ms. Wurtzel, hoping for an extra pearl or two about how I, as a 25-year-old, might learn from her mistakes and “get it right,” she emailed that she “didn’t have an audience in mind when I wrote it, but if anything I was thinking in terms of people who could relate to it, not so much people who could learn from it.” She also backpedaled a bit from her cautionary stance. “Of course, I’m 42 and I’m not married, but I don’t feel sorry for myself. … It’s not that I’m not sad sometimes, but I’m definitely not sorry.”

Perhaps. But then there’s this part in her piece about her love life today: “Dating this person for three months, that one for a few weeks, sometimes longer. They come, they go, someone is always coming as someone else is going; it’s not like there’s no one, but it’s all so lonely.”

When Jenny—already fearful about turning 32, thanks to her personal Cautionary Matron—read Ms. Wurtzel’s article, she emailed me the following: “Ugh. Now I am going to sit, coma-like, on the sofa and contemplate my impending decay. Great.”

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Post a Comment The Discussion

Sandra Tsing Loh

Great piece. I very much agree with the idea that there's no road map for women in their 20's...But, to avoid ending up like the "cautionary matrons," it also seems like there are some key things not to do...If Sandra Tsing Loh had an affair, which she then made public, I can understand why the course of true love hasn't run smooth for her.

You're single?

Since when? You were always with that douchey hipster guy at every party.

question

what this article and others like it fail to address is what is so great about marriage and children anyway? why is that even still the standard?

Even though I'm a male, my clock is ticking!

I've never been much like other guys, I'm a "good guy" and very sensitive- and to top it off I have unique takes on intimate relationships that aren't the societal norm (considering sex with a women after 55-58 makes me queasy!)

Still, my hangups aside, unlike all the guys I hear about, I seem to be the only one who dwells on being alone and how narrow my window is as I near 40- which I see as a cutoff, because I'm attracted to (much) younger women- not based on looks/youthful bodies, but because I don't have thongs in common with other late-30's women. I'm a silly kid at heart, a gamer, and not interested in the mundane aspects of being grounded in the boring reality our society pushes us toward.

I have this math formula in my head: Meet someone today, date for a year, live together at least half a year, get engaged at least half a year, get married- spend time together for several years, THEN have kids (first one 10-12 months later, next one two to five years later.) Problem is that puts me well into my mid 40's or later, meaning I need a wife candidate 10 or more years younger to have the time and not be threatened by menopause.

Unfortunately, I can't date as my life is a mess from the actions of former employers, so I don't see how I'll get to dating before 40: How's a 40 year old convince a 26 year old to be with them? I don't want to deal with stepkids or divorceés- I've had one serious relationship as a teen, and nothing of consequence since. So I want to experience a relationship from the start like a 20-something couple- and I can't go back in time.

The kicker is, for me, if I do not have kids and pass on my DNA and morals, then upon my death it will be as if I never existed. I will have failed at life. I truly don't want that future as badly as I fear being alone for life.

just for the record

My book, A Vindication of Love, is all about taking more risks, not less. It is the square opposite of cautionary--as Ms. Aleksander would know had she peered between the covers before including it (admittedly as an afterthought) in her sweeping critique of women writers older than she is (25).

Vindication blasts today's cult of safe sex, safe love, safe living. It is not a book written from the standpoint of regret or apology or caution, but from the standpoint (deemed "adolescent" by a number of its critics) of daring-do, triumph, and the embrace of risk. I am neither apologetic nor autobiographical, but rather happy with my life, thank you--though I'd like to point out I mention it in only a single paragraph in my book. Vindication of Love is not a "personal narrative" but a literary polemic; I am not a "matron" in my 40s, but a single travelwriter and barhopper in my 30s. We probably go to some of the same clubs, Ms. Aleksander.

Now if only we could both read.

All best, Cristina Nehring