Long Time Passing

Since no one will ever read this blog anyway, I thought I'd go for it and post something having nothing to do with computers, chicken, or sex. But speaking of sex, it seems that by age 30 most women are thoroughly bored with men. And then, for some reason, they get married. Oscar Wilde said that men marry because they're tired, women because they're curious, and that both are disappointed. Women living in New York - having come to the sexual epicenter of the world, as Thurber and White would say, to explore the twin worlds of sex and apartment decoration - survey the gamut of malehood at such a clip that by 26 they're fed up and making a bee line for the alter. Where are the girls I knew in high school, that actually believed in the possibilities of life, had boundless energy, buoyant breasts, endless giggles and black leotards disappearing into threadbare jean shorts? Something happens to them in college, I think - they read some books and realize that nobody else knows the answer either, not even their high school drama teacher that they were so in love with. Then they enter the workforce, cut off from the dining hall and suddenly aware of the price of an East Village one-bedroom. They get jobs. They get free drinks. They get wise. They get old. Well, not all of them I hope. Lolita's not porn you know. It's a love story. And so sad.