I read "The Last Single Woman in America" by Cindy Guidry, and it was a pretty good book of stories and observations. The first thing I liked about it was the title. Not The Last Single Girl in the World, but the Last Single Woman in America, which sounds stronger and not so desperate. A good start.
My two favorite passages in the book are as follows (the first cracked me up, the second made me think):
"I've got a friend in New Orleans whose divorced mother hooked up with an old high school boyfriend, a widower. Then, after a few months of newfound relationship bliss, her boyfriend, Carl, told her that he couldn't commit to anything because he wanted to date other people. Carl was 72 years old!
"Edna Mae told him to take a hike, and I guess once left empty-handed Carl realized he might die before he found anyone else to date because he eventually came around, but I mean, it really does beg the question: Does this shit ever end?"
"I have friends who think it's about time men started holding themselves up to the same absurd physical standards that women have been holding themselves up to for years. And you know what? They're out of their minds. When the image-obsessed portion of the population shoots from 50 percent to 100 percent, that ain't progress. I've been sitting here like a moron wondering when women were finally going to lighten up on themselves, and instead I've got to deal with a bunch of men acting like freaks, too?
"One thing that's been forgotten, however, is the part about how women used to cook, raise the children, make a home. Now nobody does it. I guess a cozy nest just isn't as sexy as a million dollar bonus, but what I can't figure out is how the women's movement ever got labeled feminism when it's done so very little to elevate the value of traditional female roles. It's turned thankless jobs into worthless jobs. That's not feminism, that's masculinism. And those thankless jobs not only had value, they had a very important purpose."
Well said Cindy.