Month: May 2026

(I wrote a similar list when I turned 50 and when I was nearly 40. I just re-read those and it inspired me)

1. Sometimes the people who are supposed to love and/or take care of you are so twisted up in their own struggles that they end up doing some of the worst stuff to you. Almost always, this is not intentional or about you; it still sucks to live through.
2. Trauma isn’t what happened to you, it’s what happened after; it’s still after so you can (still) heal.
   1. You have to do the work, though, and it is your responsibility to take care of yourself.
3. Mental health treatments are changing rapidly and some seem like voodoo, but actually work (and are science backed). Be open to trying new things, especially if the old ones haven’t really worked for you.
   1. For example, I did EMDR, thinking it was probably BS, and it profoundly changed me for the better.
4. A simple compliment to a stranger can be life changing, for both of you.
5. Everyone should take an improv class; learning to say “yes, and” instead of “no” alone will save you thousands in therapy.
6. So often it, whatever it is that someone is upset about, is not about you.
   1. If you did fuck up, though, apologize and without excuses.
7. There is a difference between being compassionate and being a doormat; and learning that difference is worth everything.
8. Humans are amazingly resilient so don’t judge a person by what has happened in their life; it’s more important how that person has grown (or not) from it.
9. If you don’t have the right training, not only can you not save a drowning person, they are likely to take you down too (literally and metaphorically).
10. You may not like the answer you will receive for any question you may ask but that is no reason to get pissed at the person answering your question.
11. You can’t go much wrong if you follow the philosophy of Dory (“Just keep swimming!”) or Scarlet O’Hara (“I can’t think about that today; if I do I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow).
    1. Relatedly, responding is much better than reacting.
12. Watching a couple, who have loved each other for some time, move together cooking/prepping in the kitchen, is better and more emotionally poignant than any ballet. You will see tiny intimacies of gob-smacking beauty, like a gentle hand on a back in passing or a soft smile.
13. We, as a society, have lost much of the concept of intimacy: we post every moment of every encounter, usually in photos or video, as if not having it witnessed by others voids a moment’s existence. Keeping the important stuff between the participants is so very much better: you’ll always have something no one else does.
14. No one outside knows what really happens between two people in a relationship so when someone gives you relationship advice, remember they are working from an incomplete data set; large grains of salt required.
    1. At the same time, outside perspective can be helpful.
15. Don’t ever do X or Y only because someone else wants you to, even if that someone is a parent or lover; you have to want to do whatever it is for your own reasons or it’s going to go to shit.
16. Never buy jeans in a smaller size in the hopes you’ll get there; they’re just a depressing reminder in your closet and, if you do get to that size, by that time the style will have changed.
17. Get off your ass, as often as possible, preferably to the point of heavy sweating. You’ll never regret moving your body.
    1. Prioritize flexibility and strength, especially as you get older; I’m over 60 and can still put my feet behind my head (my body just makes more noise when I do).
18. Learn the difference between muscle soreness and pain; you can work through the first but the second is a sign to rest/heal and not knowing the difference will send you to the doc/hospital.
    1. Always keep a bag of frozen peas in your freezer; they are the best for icing any part of you that hurts.
19. Regardless of the person’s professional reputation, if you don’t like the new hairstylist’s/barber’s personal style, do not let them touch your hair. Ever.
20. If you wear makeup, less is always more.
21. I cannot overstate the value of a great massage or regular facials.
22. There are very few truly mean people out there but those who are should be avoided at all costs, even if they’re related to you (maybe especially so, actually).
23. If your girl/boyfriend/partner says you have to pick your friends or them, pick your friends; that lover is an insecure control freak who will make your life miserable but your friends are just weirdos who know you and love you anyway.
24. Backhanded compliments are insults; don’t kid yourself.
25. What you feel is real but is not reality; your feelings are caused by your perception of reality. Others perceive differently. The objective truth is impossible to know but it’s probably somewhere between your perception and theirs.
26. Being right is usually not the win you think it is.
27. The thing you think is your biggest flaw may be exactly the thing that makes you the most attractive.
28. Yes, who you are really is all about what you do, not what you say. Put up or shut up.
    1. Even when it’s hard or scary.
    2. Especially if you are privileged and can help others who are less so.
29. Do whatever it is you need to now (therapy, meditation, etc.) so that when you look back 20 years from now you won’t think, “Why didn’t I know I was beautiful?” You are. Now. Let yourself believe it.
30. It’s okay if others (including partners) don’t share your opinions on some topics; you can have respectful disagreement.
31. That thing you’ve always wanted to do? Do it. I don’t care if it’s getting a PhD or fucking a porn star; figure out a way and make it happen. I went to law school over 40 and it cost me 3 years of my life and all my savings (and then some)–totally worth everything.
    1. See also getting my motorcycling license (and moto!) in my late 50s.
32. Send handwritten thank you notes. And letters. They become keepsakes.
33. Let go of watching/reading the news so much. Less of that dark shit is a very effective and much cheaper form of therapy.
34. Hold your rules loosely but your morals/ethics tightly.
35. Take the time to say Thank you, often, to people you love and strangers.
    1. And if you can afford it, tip heavily.
36. Fail. As my father used to say, if you don’t fall down (a skiing reference) then you aren’t trying hard enough.
    1. There is nothing shameful about trying your best and failing.
37. That thing/music/food/whatever you hated when you were 20, you may love when you’re 40 or 60 or whatever; so try it again every so often.
    1. Unless it gives you a rash and makes you puke, then you’re allergic (trust me on that… oysters, damn).
38. That person you think is so cool and perfect? They have what is (for them) a terrible secret they don’t want anyone to know. We’re all human and all flawed and all insecure to some extent.
39. Eat good food and spend the extra money for it; better to ditch some subscription/app and eat well than to have, say, Netflix but eat crap.
40. There is little better than sharing a meal with people you love; without devices.
41. Turn off your phone/computer/tablet much more often; the world won’t end.
42. If you try to change your romantic partner (“quit smoking” or “get a better job” etc.), you don’t love that person, only the idea of that person as this potential other person. Either accept the person as-is or find someone who is that other person. Otherwise lies madness.
    1. And if your partner tries to change you, in the words of Monty Python, run away.
43. Karen (Isak) Dinesen was right: salt water (tears, sweat, the sea) cures everything. In my opinion, especially the sea.
44. There are two kinds of people in this world: those who find something to complain about in everything and those who find something good in everything. Strive to be the latter; the former are exhausting to be around or to be.
45. Sometimes it’s okay to be just like everyone else, normal, average; as long as it is really you, it is per se exceptional.
46. Try new things as often as possible, whether that’s food, restaurants, music, exercise, books… doesn’t matter; and, it’s okay if you don’t like it, but you’ll never know unless you try.
47. Keep a journal, by hand; print your favorite photographs, even if you only chuck those prints in a box. You’ll appreciate finding them later.
48. Get out into nature whenever possible, even if it’s just a walk around the block.
49. Meditation is never wasted time. Even the worst sit is better than not sitting.
50. Jealousy is a useless emotion; if someone is going to betray your trust, there is nothing you can do to prevent it and the betrayer is the asshat, not you. I’d rather be a sucker who trusted than be not trusting, but I totally admit that isn’t always easy.
51. It’s (probably) not love at first sight, it’s love bombing; secure love/attachment is a much slower process than the media makes us think it is.
    1. Especially if you have past trauma—it may feel boring, but really it’s safe and you just might not recognize that.
52. Forgive people who hurt you. However, don’t always let them back into your life. Forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting the lesson.
53. Hurt people hurt people is true; but you have a responsibility to yourself not to be anyone’s punching bag (emotionally or physically).
    1. It’s their job to heal, not yours to fix them; if they won’t do the work, move on.
54. If you can’t win an argument without making your partner lose, you have work to do.
55. Trying to fix someone’s problem is often the wrong thing to do; letting someone live with the consequences of their behavior is hard. This is true for parents as much as it is for partners. We learn from our mistakes, but it’s hard to watch someone you love struggle to get there.
56. Stuff is just stuff. You can live with a lot less of it than you think and not only be happy, you may very well be happier.
57. Being alone is often wonderful and not lonely. Solitude is not loneliness.
58. Read more books. Actual books, in print. It’s not wasted time.
59. Indulge in some decent pens. You don’t have to spend hundreds: a $25 fountain pen will feel amazing when you’ve used disposables most of your life.
60. Give your love freely; don’t ask for anything in return, including being loved back. You’ll always get more by giving it away.

Not long after the Ex and I moved into the house, almost 6 years ago, we bought a ridiculously expensive mattress. It wasn’t exactly the one I wanted, but compromise is required in life and he liked a softer mattress than I do. I think he wanted an even softer one and likely compromised as well. I don’t know for sure. Whatever, my body was never really thrilled with it. Lately, it seemed to be getting worse and worse.

Now, I’m 60 pushing 61, so some of this may just be my old body. I mean, as you get older, things generally hurt more. But I’m very active and flexible and the discomfort seems excessive, even with the age. And I can take discomfort; the lack of sleep, though, not so much.

I knew years ago that my body didn’t like the mattress, but mostly I thought that was about my body, not the mattress. For example, I could not sleep on it leading up to and just after I had my gnarly butt surgery¹². I had to sleep on the sofa–the bed hurt way too much. But after I healed up I was able to move back onto the bed.

The mattress seemed to have it out for me; there was something about trying to get the fitted sheet on it that was always extra. The mattress was heavy and deep–trying to pick up the corner was way more difficult than it should have been. I could never change the sheets, even with the Ex helping, without frustration and usually swearing. Sometimes broken nails, even. It was like the damn thing hated me.

When the Ex’ trauma made his sleep/bedroom needs more complicated³, I moved into the other bedroom in an attempt to help things–first on a sofa in there and then we bought a daybed to replace the sofa. I slept much better on those than I had on our bed. I thought much of that was the emotional stuff⁴ but, in hindsight, maybe not as much as I thought.

When he moved out and left the bed and its mattress, ironically complaining about the mattress near the end, too, I moved back into the bedroom. I cleaned everything and saged the room, the latter just to be on the safe side. I bought new sheets. I moved things on the shelves and made it more like me. And I tried to sleep on the now-my-side of the bed.

It was definitely wonky. What had been his side⁵ had become more compressed and definitely sloped⁶. I tried spinning the mattress 180º which was better, but still not great. Then I did a temporary fix with a plywood board from the garage/studio that fit perfectly. That did help for a while, but it wasn’t long before I recognized that I was doing that thing where I have to essentially lift my body up entirely with my arms, as if I am trying to levitate, just in order to roll over. No bueno.

So, eight months later, I finally bit the bullet last weekend and purchased a new mattress. A cheap(ish) Ikea one…and firm. In fact, I read several posts from people who said it was too hard, which encouraged the purchase. As I can sleep on a hardwood floor (and like it), it seemed like a good option. To be safe, I went to the store and tried it out, and others…it felt great. I placed the order and awaited the delivery.

It arrived yesterday, late afternoon, “vacuum” packed into a plastic wrap tube. The delivery guy kindly brought it into the living room for me and it stayed there overnight. It was too late to do the hard work of moving the old mattress off the platform bed and into the other bedroom⁷; plus the new mattress needed time to expand once on the bed. So there it sat.

Ikea brilliantly put two thick velcro straps on the tube, with handles, so I could pick up the 58+ pound thing pretty easily and move it from there into the dining room temporarily (it was blocking my morning yoga spot where it was). And later move it onto the bed.

After my morning exercise and first espresso today, it was time to do the swap. First, I had to move the old mattress. The bedroom is small so there isn’t a ton of room to maneuver but I got the thing up and on its side, at the foot of the bed. Then I had to push/drag it down the very short hall and into the other bedroom. A bit of a trick without knocking all the art off the walls.

It weighs a lot more than the new one (it’s over 80 pounds) but, as long as I was on the hardwood floors, I could slide it easily. Whenever I hit a rug, though, some lifting was required. Still, I managed to get it all the way and lean it against the daybed in the other room, without a serious problem. I’m very glad I’ve been doing strength work in my workouts. I suspect I’ll feel it tomorrow, still.

After, I went back into the bedroom and looked at the bed, sans mattress. It is a platform with slats only in the center (you can kind of see that from the discoloration on the underside of the old mattress in the photo above) and drawers covered by solid wood on both sides. In the open space under the slats was a ton of dog fur. And between the head of the bed and the wall? Even more. I was shocked because I had cleaned after Ex left and found a ton of hair then! These spaces, though, they were unreachable with a mattress on the bed. So, I got the vacuum out, and a microfiber cloth, and a long-handled duster, and started cleaning.

Then, I carried in the new mattress, put it on the now very clean bed, and gingerly sliced open the plastic to release the roll. It flopped open and looked tiny. Thin, I mean. Of course, this was partially because it was so flat from its packing, but even when expanded it will be much thinner than the old one. At first, though, it looked really sad.

Anyway, since I had to lower them to match the new bed height, I gave the wall-mounted “tables” on either side of the bed and the basket/drawers under them a good cleaning, too. They weren’t so bad (they do get cleaned regularly). I lowered them, a lot, put the lamps and everything back on them, and then I left the bed unmade to off-gas and get flatter… and fatter.

This afternoon, it looked much better–still thinner than the old one of course, but not teeny like it had been. So, I made the bed. It was… easy! I whipped on that fitted sheet like it was nothing. Wow. And, when the bed was made I stepped back and looked. With everything lower, the room looks much larger. Much. It feels airier. Lighter. Less burdened somehow. I’d post a photo but it just doesn’t show in 2D.

I’m hopeful. I’ve lain on the bed a couple of times and it feels better. I’m looking forward to sleeping on it tonight. Honestly, that’s a big change: I’ve been kind of dreading going to bed the past couple of weeks. We’ll see what Ruthie thinks, too, especially as the lower height should make her 4:30a pawing at the window blind more difficult. Hopefully.

I had considered swapping bedrooms entirely with this change, a clean break if you will, but I don’t think I will. The rooms are the same size but the orientation is 90º different and, with an additional door, fitting things in the other bedroom would probably look and feel more closed in. Perhaps the change of the mattress will do the trick of not only of reducing my physical discomfort, please oh please, but of making the room more me.

________________________________

1. I had a nasty fistula with complications and had to have pretty extensive butt surgery. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone but a nazi. Luckily, my doc was great and I’m fine now. ↩︎
2. That is, I couldn’t sleep on it before the surgery or after the operative pain meds (i.e., fentanyl) wore off. When I got home post-op, I crashed hard on the bed and could not feel anything for a while. I was not so much sleeping as unconscious. I have no idea why anyone would ever want to use fentanyl recreationally; it was scary. Anyway, once I woke up and the effects faded, I had to decamp to the sofa. ↩︎
3. Our needs didn’t match up well then, e.g., I go to bed early and need quiet and darkness, he needed to stay up late, have the curtains open, and use his devices. ↩︎
4. Without going into detail, watching someone you love suffer the effects of profound trauma is horrible; trying to sleep next to someone with those issues is difficult. ↩︎
5. He slept on the same side of the bed as I did, pre-relationship, so I let him keep it when we got together–once he was gone, I moved back over. ↩︎
6. I think the Ex spent a lot of time sitting on the side of the bed, legs over the side I mean, which wore it down. I would see him in that position often, as I passed the room. ↩︎
7. Just in case the new mattress sucks and needs to be returned, I’m keeping the old one for a bit. ↩︎

Being single again means, if I choose, dating again. I’m about a 9.5 out of 10 on the hetero scale¹ so that means dating men. At first I was loathe to get back out there because I was just too wounded by the breakup of my last relationship. But, as I’m healing, I’ve started dipping my toe into the online/app dating world. Unfortunately, I have come to recognize that my chances of finding an equal partner, at least on those tools, are virtually nil. The patriarchy is strong out there.

Dating has always been difficult for me…well, when I am fully me that is. It’s not that I’m repulsive or anything. I’m actually relatively attractive physically, even as I age. No, the “problem” is that I’m really smart, very (very) educated, and self-sufficient. That is an unwanted combo. Men feel threatened; I have been told that I am “intimidating.” My most recent ex, who was arguably the least misogynistic of all the men I have ever been in a relationship with, said more than once things like that he resented me fixing stuff myself (note: I really enjoy fixing things), like somehow that hurt him. Me being me just seems to be a problem for, well, them.

I have, thus, far too often softened myself and made other trade-offs. These start innocently enough, trying to be nice or less threatening at least. But really I was just playing the patriarchy’s game: don’t make the man feel anything that might be threatening to his manhood. I bought into the idea that it was me–I was the problem.

In the words of Monty Python: I got better.

And now, hope springs eternal, as they say, and so I have put myself out there on a couple of the apps. But I have done so with intention and clearly stating that I am a feminist. If I get into anything again it will be as me, not the patriarchy-friendly version.

Many men on these apps check the box for a “deep, meaningful, longterm relationship” but the way they present themselves, well, it doesn’t match up. They seem mostly to be interested in finding a world travel companion and/or someone who does the same physical activity things they do like ski, golf, or (gods forbid) play pickleball. The profiles are shockingly full of [fill in the sport] photos, or, worse their cars or (yikes) grandkids². The words are often sparse, vague, and shockingly often misspelled.

Some at least have the honesty to say they want someone to take care of them. These are men over 60 and they are still looking for a mommy. They need therapy, not a partner, and at least it’s damn easy to hit block on those. A few others say they want to take care of their partner which sounds okay, until you get to the possessive pronoun in their statement (i.e., “I take care of my woman”)³. Sigh…no thanks. And there are always just one or two who, frankly, I respect the most because they say that are not looking for anything serious and just want to hookup. Thanks for the honesty, my dudes.

What I don’t see in virtually everyone is evidence of much inner work. These guys aren’t talking about what touches them, what they really yearn for, what they are afraid of, what they offer emotionally. At best, some men use probably AI-generated text and throw out generically attractive terms like “values vulnerability” or “is emotionally intelligent.” Sadly, almost always, there will then be something that completely belies even that, like a picture of the man looking lecherous with bodacious (younger!) women or flashing bogus gang signs next to his Corvette. Again, they are over 60 and doing that shit. Peter Pan is on Viagra.

I will say that, so far, I have never seen a man display any form of the word patriarchy in his profile, like “I believe in dismantling the patriarchy,” but I’m sure it’s coming and it will almost as surely be disingenuous. Like the men who write that they “have learned from experience” don’t seem to mean “about myself and what I needed to work on” so much as “what I want in you and if you don’t match my imaginary list perfectly I’m out.” Or the politically conservative Buddhists (I’ve seen at least 2 of those and all I can think is how the fuck is that even possible?).

The hypocrisy on these apps is often off the scales: men demand a woman be in great shape while they can’t see their penis except in a mirror; they plea for “no baggage!” as if they haven’t ever had shit in their own lives; or they insist you bring “no drama” because, you know, it’s only okay for them to ever show anger.

Sigh.

Obviously, it’s been a struggle for me to even match up with anyone. While I’m not looking for perfect, of course, I know myself well enough to know that I have to be careful not to over compromise. When there aren’t a lot of fish in the sea, that’s an extra danger. Still, I have matched with a few and even had a couple of meet-dates. But that’s it. Nothing worth putting on makeup a second time.

It’s not that I didn’t get the feeling of fireworks or butterflies so I said “no” to a real date. Nope. What happened was that I felt like these men had no actual interest in who I was or what I thought. At these meetings they would talk, often quite a lot, but about themselves. It was quite rare for me to get a question about me⁴. I can’t tell you how many times, with all of these men, I offered a question that could easily have turned into an exchange of info (“What’s your favorite….?”) yet the follow-up (“And what’s yours?”) never came. I even had one man respond to almost all my direct questions with some form of “Guess!” like I’d ask “Where did you go to college?” and he’d say “You tell me…” with a smile as if he thought it fun or, worse, charming. Ugh. Awful.

I would love to find someone who wants to just be with me. Someone who will be himself and accept me for me; that is, someone who will love me for who I am, not what I do and, especially, not what I do for him. Someone who can be still with me; and breathe.

But I’m in no rush. I am most definitely not desperate, even with few fish in the sea.

Somehow, not being desperate seems to be another negative. Men, it seems, want women to be needy (but not too needy). They don’t recognize that is just another way of making the woman less than. If you think your partner must need you, then it’s not a partnership, it’s a control thing.

As a feminist in the hetero dating world, that is the biggest red flag of all.

______________________________

1. Sadly true, and I do mean sadly. I would love to be sexually attracted to humans other than men, but it just isn’t there. I personally see this as anecdotal evidence that sexuality is not a choice. ↩︎
2. Why anyone would put their grandchildren’s photos in a dating app, I have no idea. Of course I know many/most will be parents and probably grandparents, but why expose your progeny like that? I’m certainly never going to choose to reach out to a man because he has a photo of him hugging a kid–if anything, it gives me the ick. ↩︎
3. These same men also usually have the word “chivalrous” somewhere in their profile and are openly Christian. Yikes. ↩︎
4. Usually, when I did get some comment about me it wasn’t a question but was something like “I see you painted your toenails.” I have shown grace in not responding “Yeah, I paint my toenails for me; don’t get excited there, Sparky.” ↩︎

I love the 1939 film, The Women. I watched it again the other day and every time I do I see… more. It’s just one of those films.

It’s an amazing piece of history: the entire cast was female (not the crew and the animals, as is sometimes reported, though). And it’s surprisingly profound while, at the same time, hits every negative stereotype of women you can imagine: vanity, cattiness, money hunting, etc. Most of the characters in the film are society women, as they were called. In other words: rich broads either through marriage or inheritance (or both).

The fundamental point of the film is, however and perhaps surprisingly, that love requires superseding your ego. One might argue that a bit of unintended Buddhist philosophy sneaks in, exactly where you’d never expect to find it.

The basic plot is that the main character’s husband strays. She (Mary, played by Norma Shearer) finds out through the social grapevine and everyone’s favorite manicurist. The other woman, who works the perfume counter of a Sax-like department store, is a real siren (Crystal, played by Joan Crawford in full lower-class-hustler-trying-to-get-ahead-however-she-can form) looking for a sugar daddy. She (we learn) targeted Mary’s husband when he went to buy his wife some perfume for her birthday, and that he never stood a chance. Regardless of the circumstances, when Mary learns of the betrayal, she believes that the violation is so complete that the relationship must end.

However, before Mary actually ends her marriage, her mother learns from the same manicurist about the affair and gently confronts Mary. Mary tells Mom that she believed in her marriage and that its love was pure; now it is tainted, so it’s over. Most of all, she must end it because, as she says, “I have my pride.” There we see the ego, in opposition to love.

Mom has a fabulous scene here. She says that virtually all men cheat at some point and, when they do, it’s not because they don’t love their wives but rather because they lose themselves. Men, she asserts, don’t have the good sense to change their office or hair as women do. Instead, men look to see themselves as fresh and new in the eyes of someone new and younger. It isn’t love and it isn’t about the wife–it is the man’s ego (in opposition to love, again).

Mom even casually admits her (now dead) husband, Mary’s father, had an affair back in the day, shocking Mary. Mom points out that it isn’t love and that it will end, and likely soon. Mom also cautions that Mary needs to think about more than herself and her hurt pride, she has a daughter with her husband, and that must be considered. Mary opines that her daughter will appreciate her choice in time. Mom scoffs at that.

Mom closes her argument with a doozy: she says that ignoring the cheating is the only real sacrifice they, as super privileged women, have to make in life. Ooof! But accurate. Overall, she’s telling her daughter to feel hurt but, more importantly, to be compassionate to everyone involved (her kid and her husband, the latter in his own weakness) and to be grateful for the good things even with the bad things. To be less hooked by either. Middle path, for the win. Strong Buddhist vibes, Bodhisattva-Mom.

Mom ends her visit by asking Mary if she’s told her friends. Mary says that she is pretty sure they know anyway and Mom says that if she hasn’t told them that she knows, “Don’t. Don’t confide in your friends.” Mom points out that if Mary does, then her friends will, with best intentions usually, make sure that the marriage ends. She finishes with the great line, “I’m an old woman, I know my sex.” Then Mom manufactures a need for a trip to Bermuda for her health and gets Mary to go with.

Of course, Mom’s right. Mary should take the time to sit in the discomfort and decide more rationally how to respond rather than just react; to look at the situation from a more dispassionate perspective, not to be rash. To not stab herself with the second arrow[1]. And Mary does try this. She tries to go on as if nothing is wrong, to let the flirtation/cheating run its course and wait for the husband to stop (as it appears he is).

However, as her mother warned, it is listening to her friends that makes moving on impossible. First, they plant the seed by calling her on her trip to nudge her insecurities. Mary comes home early. However, things seem better with the husband after her return and Mary appears to be moving on.

Shortly, however, after the fashion show (oddly, a scene done in color in a rather surrealist manner), Sylvia (Mary’s friend and cousin) points out that Crystal is in the next dressing room. When Mary reacts just a little, the friends learn she does know about the affair and they (especially Sylvia) pounce, pushing her to action. Playing on her ego (pride) and her maternal instincts (telling her that her daughter and husband were seen with Crystal in the park while she was gone), they essentially force a confrontation with Crystal.

Mary can’t let herself lose face. She tells Crystal to back off; Crystal digs in. And, the genie cannot be put back in the bottle–the papers get a hold of the relatively minor incident and make it a much bigger deal. Mary’s pride takes another hit. Of course, she confronts her husband and it all goes south, according to the housemaid who reports on the fight to the cook. The marriage is over.

After settling things with her husband via his robotically efficient secretary (trope of the sexless working woman), and finally telling her daughter of the split (just as she is preparing to leave for the train station–perhaps as a sign she was hoping for a last second reprieve), she is off on a train to Reno to get her divorce.

One of Mary’s friends (played by Joan Fontaine, who is, in my opinion, the most annoying of the actresses in the film) suddenly leaves her husband and joins her on the train. He won’t let her spend her own (obviously inherited) money as it apparently emasculates him and, well, as she puts it she too has her pride. This woman, however, when in Reno, discovers she’s first-time pregnant. That changes everything. Of course, her husband wasn’t cheating on her so, in a way, it was easier for her to get over her pride and go back to him, which she does in a tearful phone call, meekly getting his permission at the end to reverse the long distance charges. Screw pride–she’s having a baby and loves her husband (whether he deserves it or not). She’s annoying, but she does show Mary that she can have the love she wants… if she lets go of her ego.

This all happens on the morning Mary’s divorce comes through. Another woman from the train to and the ranch in Reno, Miriam (fabulously played by Paulette Goddard), is a chorus girl (thus of a lower class) who is divorcing her “bum” of a husband to marry a wealthy man (Sylvia’s husband!). Miriam tells Mary she obviously is still in love with her husband and needs to tell him so. Miriam counsels Mary to call her man and say she’ll tear up the decree. She says Mary let her pride get in the way and she should have fought more for him, for them. Just as Mary realizes that Miriam is right, the phone rings and it is Mary’s now-ex-husband. Mary, smiling, responds to his unheard question about whether the decree was granted with a “Yes, but…” when he seemingly interrupts her. In the silence, Mary’s face becomes awash with sadness.

Of course, in the few hours since the divorce is granted, Mary’s now-ex has married Crystal (his own ego wouldn’t permit him to just shag her). Mary holds it together to congratulate him, then ends the call. Miriam can see what happened. Mary says, before collapsing into tears, “At least I have my pride.”

Time passes and the husband (Stephen) is miserable (his own doing for having married Crystal), Mary is brave-facing it through life; Sylvia has backed Crystal, feeling betrayed by Mary who made friends with Miriam before she knew about the husband; Crystal is cheating on Stephen, with another Reno-divorcee’s husband….basically, there is a shitton of second-arrow hell going on. But, of course, things work out in the end. Mary learns that Stephen is miserable, that Crystal is cheating, and she decided to enact a plan to win him back. Spoiler: she does.

The last line of the film seals the Buddhist-reading deal. Sylvia, Mary’s friend who has played on her ego the hardest throughout, tries to prevent the reconciliation between Mary and her ex. Sylvia reminds Mary about her pride as Mary is literally turning to go back to him. Mary, rejecting the intervention, responds that pride is something “a woman in love can’t afford.”

And there we have the deeper truth: true love requires a loss of pride, well, of ego. If you’re worried about how loving makes you look, to others, you aren’t really loving with your whole heart. If you are judging your partner, you are not really loving. If you are judging yourself, you are not really loving. Moreover, there is a difference between pride and self-respect. It takes the journey of the film to teach Mary that. If she had known that self-respect and pride aren’t synonymous, there would have been no story to tell here.

Mary’s story is a very Buddhist journey. It is all external at first, then she learns how to be quiet and observe. She learns about herself, good and bad, and her friends (same), and to accept all as they are, including her flawed husband and her flawed self. To be true to herself is to admit that she loves her husband, even as she hates what he did. She learns that she owes it to herself to honor that by reconciling, if she can. She even essentially jiu-jitsus Crystal and Sylvia into exposing Crystal’s infidelity and freeing Stephen to reconcile. Finally, she chooses, actively, to love–imperfectly but wholly.

I would argue that in so doing, she becomes a stronger human, and a more peaceful one. There is no more striving for the perfect marriage, not more seeing her husband or herself as ideals. They are simply humans with flaws (note: he is never portrayed as at all abusive, which is important in this context) who choose to love each other and do the work, together. A Buddhist love story.

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[1] The Buddha taught that life happens and painful things happen in that life, things out of our control–the first arrow. We get sick or someone is mean to us…first arrow stuff. If we react (“I’m an idiot for getting sick!” or “He’s an asshole for being mean to me!”) we usually make ourselves suffer more–like stabbing ourselves with a second arrow. We can control our responses to the first arrow stuff and not stab ourselves with the second.