At one such party, a friend in her fifties who had recently been diagnosed with breast cancer showed her solidarity by sitting next to me at dinner.
It was incredibly brave, since in doing that she had to confront her own worst fears.
But what could I say to her? The obvious topic of conversation was her illness, and it was something that we were both thinking about. I thought her radiotherapy must be ending soon, and yet I couldn’t ask about it.
Ah yes, radiotherapy, that’s good, yes, and surgery, too – marvellous – the pity is only that they don’t always work.
No, it wasn’t a good line. So we contented ourselves with small talk all evening.
You always hear about widows being approached at parties like that – maybe it fits that old cliché of the merry widow.
One of my sister’s friends told me how shocked and repulsed she had been by the advances of her husband’s best friends after his death.
Yes, you poor thing, it must be very hard for you. But if you’re going short, just let me know and I’ll be pleased to come round to give you what you need.
Or else she was set up, finding herself next to eligible bachelors at the table. Wow, I’d said, only half joking – I doubt if a widower would be disappointed in the same way, and it might be fun to meet someone interesting or alluring.
But when it did happen, I did feel just as sullied as she’d said. No one had set me up, there were no spare ladies, just five couples and me. It was almost disappointing.
I sat down to dinner next to the hostess, a vivaciously funny brunette who had always been a live wire.
That way I’d be in the thick of the conversation, I thought. And I certainly was.
But then, halfway through the main course, I was momentarily startled to feel my knee nudged.
It must have been by accident, I thought.
But half an hour and another twenty nudges later, rising further and further towards my thigh, I wasn’t in doubt any more.
If there’s anything you need, any way I can help, any way at all, she said huskily, staring deeply and knowingly into my eyes and lightly, almost by chance perhaps, just happening to brush the inside of my leg.
It wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t at all exciting either, with her husband sitting opposite, mercifully oblivious to his wife’s practical offers of help to the needy.
He was a big guy, too – and he was a friend of mine.
Thank goodness someone called us all away from the table for coffee since I didn’t know what more to expect, except the certainty of being thumped.
: : 
: : 
: : 
: : 
: : 
4 responses so far ↓
Author // 6 July, 2009 at 17:21 |
I know it’s not quite the same, but after I got divorced a longstanding friend of mine and my former husbands did the same thing. It is embarrasing and excrutiaiting awful when it happens. Somehow that kind of offer seems to make you feel worse about yourself.
The worst bit is having to act normal in front of their partner afterwards. In my case it was a dear old school friend that I had known since I was 11 years old. Incidentally, we are still friends – but I never have contact with her husband (who is now her x).
Did you find you just wanted to ask: WHY? Is this about you or me?
Weird huh?
Roads // 6 July, 2009 at 23:48 |
Thank you, Jan. The situation you describe sounds very similar to me.
At that time, I felt vulnerable, as perhaps you did after your divorce. It strikes me that some people will recognise that, and maybe even seek it out.
Like you, I can’t pretend to understand it — and I should think it happens much more commonly to women than to men — so this was a useful learning exercise for me to appreciate some of what many widows go through.
Thanks for sharing your experiences here, painful as they were, and warm greetings from a balmy summer’s night in Geneva, Switzerland.
Skye // 10 July, 2009 at 18:14 |
Thanks again Roads for broaching those awkward topics that so many avoid or tend not to acknowledge at all. It was good to read and to realize that albeit it is totally messed up, it has happened. To you. To Jan. To myself. And to many others.
Mine happened only two months after David had died. It was awful and it pissed me off. How could this man disrespect his wife so much as to hit on me when she was in the same damn room? It made me sick, because if my husband were alive, I would have been enjoying his company and he would not have been trying to bed someone else. I kept wondering what the hell his problem was.
And yes Jan, you said it perfectly. You have to wonder if it is truly about you or them.
Shortly after David died, I found men went into two categories for me for awhile. The one’s that became and continue to be very protective of me. Brotherly. And there was the other camp. The one’s that seemed all too aware of my new found “Singledom.” For men to view me that way, so abruptly after David’s death was uncomfortable and often wrought with pain and the need to get them as far from me as possible.
Thank you again for sharing. It helps make sense of it all and make peace with the fact that people do stupid things and it does not have to reflect on you. It is more of reflection of themselves…
Roads // 11 July, 2009 at 17:06 |
Skye — how awful, and I’m sorry that it has happened to you as well. I suspect that such events are much more common than we realise — and perhaps almost universal.
There is a predatory type that seeks out vulnerability. People can be cynically opportunistic, at times — and that hurts. One more hurt amongst many, I’m afraid, and it’s sad that you have to beware in this way..