Aunt Coca’s Ghost

Did you have an Aunt Coca? My auntie, to
whom I am not genetically connected, was a lady we kindly invited to family
gatherings because she was alone. It was silently understood that she was an “old maid,” one of those
unfortunate women who did not marry and have children.

My Aunt Coca, from my child perspective, was an “old” woman.
A distinguished blonde lady, a member of the adult clan who clumsily pinched my
cheeks and brought gifts. What seemed old then, is close to home now. Like her,
I am an unmarried, 40-year-old woman, and I sometimes painfully feel the same
loneliness and single-woman stigmas as she did.

My four closest girlfriends are also not married. One of
them is 38 — but we still love her. Another has returned to the chevra (group)
after going through a divorce and becoming a single mom. She at least has a
record of having “sealed the deal.”

In our achievements and independence, we are very different
from Aunt Coca, who I believe spent her life working as a secretary. I am
reminded of our professional competence as we sit for our weekly Coffee Bean
& Tea Leaf shot of friendship. Our skills are varied: a lawyer, a doctor, a
writer, another lawyer and a high-tech wiz.

Our chevra was bonded and sealed through our 20-year
adventures in Los Angeles single Jewish life. In our 20s and 30s we all dated
many men, had some near-misses, attended young leader retreats, Shabbatons,
traveled to exotic destinations and busily became ensconced in Los Angeles
Jewish life.

As we chat and interrupt each other, I think of our common
denominators besides being 40: we are smart, kind, interesting and always
chasing those extra 10 (or 15) zaftig pounds. Our exchange does not have
commercial breaks:

“Jewish men are looking for playboy bunnies who read Torah.”

“Los Angeles is not Kansas City! There are so many women who
look fabulous here. Anyway they want women in their 20s to have a family.”

“Bull, they are just dirty old men”

We exchange JDate horror and victory stories. My friend
Debbie, who was not even looking (she had a top-level marketing job), got
married to a great guy through JDate.

Our PalmPilots sit on the table as we pick them up to
proactively pencil in social opportunities to be aware of: “Makor has a 40-50
singles group.” “What’s their Web site?” “Are you going to The Federation
leadership event?” “Too young. The guys are looking for 20-year-olds.” “LACMA
has free concerts on Fridays.” “MOCA has a singles group.” “It’s 20-something.”
“Did you go to Friday Night Live?” “The UJ has a 39 cutoff for their discussion
group.” “I am taking bridge lessons.” “The Fountain Theatre has a great play.”

We network activities for an hour. Our loneliness, though
populated with (diminishing) marriage prospects according to researchers, is
densely populated with friendships, philanthropic involvements, cultural
activities, family events, the gym, our pets and occasional nights at home.

Midweek I met my friend Elliott in the magazine area of
Barnes & Noble. By his own admission, he is a Jewish prince who fears
commitment. His (generally blonde) relationship attempts fail regularly and he
lives on antidepressants, while attending every single event listed (and not
listed) to find his muse. Though my friends and I would probably fit his needs
better than his relationship résumé, he would never consider dating a woman
like me. “Kind” is not one of the criteria he seeks in a woman. He wants a
young, beautiful, successful, slim, amazing, funny, superlative fit.

I leave Elliott and feel angry at men like him. Of course,
there are lot of good men who are more real, but it does certainly seem like
there are many Elliotts around. What’s a girl to do? Have fun and enjoy life
anyway, is my answer. I do feel shame not being married, but I do not feel
desperate or bored. There are times when I feel that I live on another planet
from my Valley friends, who are consumed with diaper and carpool concerns.
Mostly, my throat tightens and I feel particularly single at family Shabbat
dinners and holidays. My brothers have supplied the grandchildren, not I, the
Jewish daughter brought up for marriage. Luck? Fear of commitment? Who knows?

Am I that different than my Aunt Coca? Is the organized
Jewish community life aware of the great number of mature singles —
particularly women? Is anything being done on a community level to integrate us
into a fulfilling role other than being an alien in a synagogue world dedicated
to family life? I hope that Jewish leaders and rabbis will hear our message as
they look at Jewish life today and tomorrow.

It sometimes feels like the Orthodox community is making a
more concerted effort to reach out to older singles. Some question their
motives, but the consistency of their outreach voice is undeniable. My friends
and I often trek to Pico-Robertson to experience Shabbat with Jewish families
and feel the warmth of community sharing.

My options are different than Aunt Coca’s. To address my
ticking biological clock, I could adopt or consider other options. I can enjoy
the benefits of independent life and choose other ways to contribute socially
than by having a family and children.

However, tonight I finish my fun
Scrabble game on PlaySite.com and then switch to JCupid to see if their Web site has more
options than JDate.

Five days to the next girlfriend caffeinated meeting.

Annabelle Stevens is a writer and the public relations director at Gary Wexler + Associates | Passion Marketing for Issues and Causes. She is the mother of the infamous Black Jacquie the cat.