The NYC Insiders Guide
for women who aren't kids
The Dating Chronicles
True Stories from a Single Tomato
by
Bonnie D. Graham
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Bonnie D. Graham's bio tends to overflow the allotted space in an online dating profile. A divorced mom who raised a lawyer and a doctor, she has worked and/or dabbled as a mainframe computer programmer; Mary Kay cosmetics consultant; stand-up comic and founder of the troupe BonnieG & DaBoyz; ballroom and disco dance instructor and disco contest semi-finalist; bachelor auction MC; global marketing communications manager; writer/editor; graphic designer; newspaper reporter; concert reviewer; celebrity interviewer; rock ‘n’ roll trivia column ghost-writer; digital photographer; talk radio and cable TV producer/host/interviewer; eBay seller/buyer/instructor; and social media instructor. Now a card-carrying member of AARP, the Sandwich Generation, and the legion of laid-off American workers over 50, she gleefully Tweets as @RadioRed777 and can be found in her spare time splashing around in the dating pool. www.bonniedgraham.com. Email: Bonnie@bonnietv.com
What Are YOU Doing New Year’s Eve – Dec. 31, 2010?
Dear Single Tomatoes: Happy New Year!
Ah, New Year’s Eve [“NYE”]. As I say at the start of my TV show, “Whatever this means to you, THIS is Something To Talk About!”
For many people, Dec. 31 is simply bon voyage for what is about to be the next last year and the mandatory viewing of the man formerly dubbed ‘the world’s oldest teenager’. Is that all there is, Peggy Lee?
Not for me! When my divorce transformed me into a Suddenly Single Tomato at age 28, NYE took on a new meaning. It became one bookend for the shortest, most visible and emotionally loaded dating/mating season on my calendar. Do the math. If alone at Auld Lang Syne, I had just 45 days to find a Let Me Call You Sweetheart duet partner for Feb. 14. Aha, the other bookend!
You’re probably wondering why I fell into this pressure cooker so soon after my divorce. Was I MIA when the message came down from the mountain that a newly single woman should avoid diving back into the dating pool until she becomes strong, independent and emotionally healed? Didn’t I know that looking for love too soon could lead me to use men as emotional Band-Aids in rebound-doomed relationships? Yes, but a different need trumped the sage advice.
It’s very simple. Cyndi Lauper named my new tune in just six words: Girls Just Want To Have Fun. I hated the thought of being glaringly alone on Hallmark-endorsed occasions designed for romantic couples. My plan was to trade my new Ms. title for Mrs. asap because I wanted to be part of a couple again. There, I said it. So bite me.
It’s been over 30 years since then. How did it play out in real life? Here are some of the highlights I still remember.
The same year I dissolved my marriage, I sank into a tear-soaked funk from late December through early January. Retail therapy didn’t help; a polite saleswoman ignored my quiet sobs as she rang-up my cartful of shiny Farberware. From 3,000 miles away, my concerned parents called daily to remind me, “But WE love you.” I got through NYE somehow, but vowed to never revisit such loneliness.
The next few years when I was sans-S.O., or if my S.O. was “unavailable” for the big night, I pushed myself out of the house on NYE. Whether stag at a club dancing with singles I barely knew, or as the token unattached Tomato at a friend’s annual house party, I learned that you really can feel alone in a crowd. The years my S.O. was not quite Mr. Right, having a date for NYE was better than being alone – but not much. NYE during this era was mostly forgettable.
Determined to find a happier way to face NYE, I took on the persona of Susie Homemaker, the perpetually cheery woman-in-charge. Susie turned out to be a perfect role model. I invited pleasant guests, set a lovely table and chilled the champagne. I baked picture-perfect quiches and a chocolate-drizzled Buche de Noel – from scratch, of course. My home was where my heart really was. NYE was fun, pain-free and memory-worthy at last.
I abandoned Susie the year I was literally swept off my feet by a handsome older dancer. I was overjoyed when, ahead of my timetable, he asked me out for a quiet just-us NYE. Then he invited me to go away with him for Valentine’s week. Both of my bookends were in place. This could be “it”.
Our second NYE together, we agreed to attend a fancy-schmancy dinner dance at a glittery catering palace. I learned that his “secret strategy” for a fun evening was to generously pre-tip our waitress at the start of the night to keep his scotch glass filled. From my POV, his method failed. The booze downgraded his mood from festive to hypercritical of everyone, everything, and especially of me. As this became our annual NYE routine, I kept hoping it would get better and convinced myself this was the price of having a permanent date, dressing up, and dancing to a big band on NYE. My first Dating Chronicles column covered our long overdue demise.
Thanks to JDate, I met a mentsch in time for NYE 2009. We dined in The Village, enjoyed down-and-dirty yucks at the Comedy Cellar, wore silly hats, and kissed at midnight. I remember it well.
FYI: I read this to my therapist and asked her what it says about me. Her one-word response: Resilience. She always knows what to say.
Sister Tomatoes, I wish you the best 525,600 minutes of your life this year. And I’d love to hear your best and worst NYE tales. Please share. I just did…./bonnie [Tweet me at @Radiored777]
