I’m fascinated by women.
Certainly the strong, smart, independent types that populate
my novels and plays are of primary interest to me. I’ve always been attracted
to that kind of woman, starting way back in high school. I’ve met a number of
them along the way. It’s always been fascinating for an observer such as
myself.
These are women who aren’t afraid to speak their mind. They
scare the heck out of some men but they don’t really care. They’re focused,
determined and seem to know exactly what they want out of life. While not all
of them were a product of the enormous social and sexual changes that affected
women in the sixties, a lot of them were.
So I’ll probably keep writing about those types of women
because they intrigue me so.
But it’s those other women who also garner a part of my curiosity.
Not because I find them attractive, which I don’t. It’s more a case of pity
than analytical examination. If I do include a dutiful wife as one of my
characters, it won’t be a flattering portrait. It’s the kind of woman Don
Draper would want to date.
I’m talking about those women who haven’t yet realized that
the world has evolved and changed and their role as ‘the little woman’
shouldn’t exist anymore. I’m talking
about those dutiful wives whose lives seem to evolve around their husband’s
daily activities and existence. At social gatherings or in the company of other
men, they simply become wallpaper. They’re an accessory or a detachable add-on.
Their absence isn’t noticed and their presence is taken for granted by their
spouse and others in the room. Their deference to their husband’s wishes is
almost palatable.
But it doesn’t seem to be that way because they’ve got a
real catch on their hands. But rather because their husband/partners shadow
blocks out any light reflecting back on them. And they’re either OK with that
or can’t or won’t do anything about it. Perhaps they once had something in that
relationship but not anymore. Now it’s more a fear of the unknown and never
asking themselves if there isn’t something better out there.
Some past generations told women that once they made their
bed, they had to sleep in it. Perhaps it’s Catholic guilt, (pick your own
religion here, if you want), fear of the unknown, complacency or not believing
there could be something better out there for them.
I’m certainly not advocating they leave or divorce their
spouse because times have changed and so has their relationship with the old
man. Instead, I’m pondering if there isn’t something else in their lives that
could take the place of the duties they feel en-cumbered to perform as the
dutiful wife.
Life is too fleeting for these women to short-change
themselves because of some antiquated notion that your spouse is entitled to
be waited on. That’s about as meaningless as dumb blond jokes and man caves.
No woman should be ‘grateful’ to be married.
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