The Vulnerable She-Crab: Softshell Sandwiches
For many Jewish men, the Sabbath begins on Friday at sundown with a series of prayers. The prayer say many things; among them, ‘thank god I am not a woman’.
Thank god I’m not a woman?! Oh you mean her, that woman, your WIFE, the one who is slaving over Chicken Marbella?
Today I’d officially like to say: Thank God I’m Not A Man. Because men, as it turns out, have to negotiate with women. And myself, as a representation of the species, has not been the easiest little puppy to deal with of late.
It’s not my fault, it’s the media! First, Sex in the City has been out for a week. This requires all women to chat with their friends, their mothers, their sisters & colleagues ad nauseum, dissecting the movie from Jimmy Choo (yay) to the unfortunate bird-hat (boo).
What did you think of Carrie revealing the post-weep look in the mirror (gasp! But yet, so brave, so honest…)? Is it fair to make midwesterners think it’s possible to live and shop *like that* on a writer’s $60K salary? Living in a 3-bedroom share in Flushing dressed in Forever 21 doesn’t make a hit series, now does it.
The New York Times' Manohla Dargis and the New Yorker's Anthony Lane both shredded the movie, when in truth it’s just a gosh-darn perky television show elongated to give us a bit of summer fun. SITC is cream-puffs and cotton candy, glitter and tulle, and anyone who analyzes it as they would an episode of The Wire is looking for depth in a kiddie pool. "Sir! You can't dive in; it's only 6-inches deep!" I am happy to take 2 hours and 15 minutes out of the city heat for a little levity.
That said, I’m not above picking the occasional PMS pimple until it takes over my face. When a recent writer/editor friend directed me to Marry Him!, the recent piece in the Atlantic about late-thirties singlehood, single motherhood, and settling, I couldn’t help myself. Unlike SITS, it was something I could dive into, so I forwarded it to my late-thirties single friends, all geared up for an intelligent sociological debate.
This was not appreciated.
Marry Him! posits that though you may think the brave and noble thing to do in your late 30s is to have a kid on your own, the braver, nobler and, let’s-face-it smarter thing to do is to take the plunge with whomever you’re dating at the time, happy though you may not be, and make a go of it. Suppress your disappointment at marrying a man you don't love! Settle, sooner than later! Putting up with his problems is a heck of a lot better than going it alone.
As author Lori Gottleib says, most women complain about their husbands non-stop anyway, so why even start with a partner you love? If you do, the love will fade fades away and you’ll be left with the disappointment of love lost in addition to all his irritating habits. If you pick someone you never loved, there's less of a down side!
Of course this sounds insane to me, but I can’t help but think of the weddings I’ve attended over the years when I knew my friend, the bride, was settling. She had had her passionate relationships, sure, but now she’s content to be with a man who’ll take great care of her.
And I gotta tell you – though it turned my stomach at the time; these couples are content in their marriages. As was told to me by one of these brides, “My mother always told me that if I had to marry someone I loved or someone who loved me, I'll be happier if pick the latter.”
Hey, I don't write the rules, I just retell them. As far as I’m concerned, you, not your situation, determines your happiness. It’s not about the circumstances in which you find yourself, but the attitude you bring to them.
You want to hate Sex In the City? Hate away. You want to rush into a relationship with a man you don't respect? Knock yourself out. Just don't come cryin' to me about how much your shrink charges for an hour of her time. ($375! Can you believe? And now I have to go three times a week!).
Either way you look at it, there's a vat of boiling water bubbling away under the perfectly pedicured feet of most women I know. I'd rather be that woman, negotiating that situation, then be the man, negotiating with us. My preference is to take on the challenge and not the fall out. For today, Thank God I'm A Woman.
Softshell Sandwiches
Last month, on my parents dock in North Carolina I caught blue crabs for the first time. I love eating soft shell crabs in their entiretly more than fighting for the measly meat of a hard shell, so I considered holding them in captivity until they molted. I thought it kinder to kill and eat them then keep them imprisoned for longer than necessary.
They were tough little things, aggressive claws snapping away. Heck, I’d be the same if I were fighting for my life. I killed them, threw them on the grill and enjoyed the sweetest crab meet I'd ever had.
A few weeks later, I found some softshells at Fairway (for $1.99 each in Red Hook!). Their personalities completely change when their shells come off: without defense, they're almost cuddly. The vulnerability of a crab can make her ever so much more of a pleasure to be around.
Shelled and mean, or soft and sweet, they're both the same to me: Dinner.
Click here for my article on thestreet.com with a recipe on Softshell Crab Sandwiches.
Thank god I’m not a woman?! Oh you mean her, that woman, your WIFE, the one who is slaving over Chicken Marbella?
Today I’d officially like to say: Thank God I’m Not A Man. Because men, as it turns out, have to negotiate with women. And myself, as a representation of the species, has not been the easiest little puppy to deal with of late.
It’s not my fault, it’s the media! First, Sex in the City has been out for a week. This requires all women to chat with their friends, their mothers, their sisters & colleagues ad nauseum, dissecting the movie from Jimmy Choo (yay) to the unfortunate bird-hat (boo).
What did you think of Carrie revealing the post-weep look in the mirror (gasp! But yet, so brave, so honest…)? Is it fair to make midwesterners think it’s possible to live and shop *like that* on a writer’s $60K salary? Living in a 3-bedroom share in Flushing dressed in Forever 21 doesn’t make a hit series, now does it.
The New York Times' Manohla Dargis and the New Yorker's Anthony Lane both shredded the movie, when in truth it’s just a gosh-darn perky television show elongated to give us a bit of summer fun. SITC is cream-puffs and cotton candy, glitter and tulle, and anyone who analyzes it as they would an episode of The Wire is looking for depth in a kiddie pool. "Sir! You can't dive in; it's only 6-inches deep!" I am happy to take 2 hours and 15 minutes out of the city heat for a little levity.
That said, I’m not above picking the occasional PMS pimple until it takes over my face. When a recent writer/editor friend directed me to Marry Him!, the recent piece in the Atlantic about late-thirties singlehood, single motherhood, and settling, I couldn’t help myself. Unlike SITS, it was something I could dive into, so I forwarded it to my late-thirties single friends, all geared up for an intelligent sociological debate.
This was not appreciated.
Marry Him! posits that though you may think the brave and noble thing to do in your late 30s is to have a kid on your own, the braver, nobler and, let’s-face-it smarter thing to do is to take the plunge with whomever you’re dating at the time, happy though you may not be, and make a go of it. Suppress your disappointment at marrying a man you don't love! Settle, sooner than later! Putting up with his problems is a heck of a lot better than going it alone.
As author Lori Gottleib says, most women complain about their husbands non-stop anyway, so why even start with a partner you love? If you do, the love will fade fades away and you’ll be left with the disappointment of love lost in addition to all his irritating habits. If you pick someone you never loved, there's less of a down side!
Of course this sounds insane to me, but I can’t help but think of the weddings I’ve attended over the years when I knew my friend, the bride, was settling. She had had her passionate relationships, sure, but now she’s content to be with a man who’ll take great care of her.
And I gotta tell you – though it turned my stomach at the time; these couples are content in their marriages. As was told to me by one of these brides, “My mother always told me that if I had to marry someone I loved or someone who loved me, I'll be happier if pick the latter.”
Hey, I don't write the rules, I just retell them. As far as I’m concerned, you, not your situation, determines your happiness. It’s not about the circumstances in which you find yourself, but the attitude you bring to them.
You want to hate Sex In the City? Hate away. You want to rush into a relationship with a man you don't respect? Knock yourself out. Just don't come cryin' to me about how much your shrink charges for an hour of her time. ($375! Can you believe? And now I have to go three times a week!).
Either way you look at it, there's a vat of boiling water bubbling away under the perfectly pedicured feet of most women I know. I'd rather be that woman, negotiating that situation, then be the man, negotiating with us. My preference is to take on the challenge and not the fall out. For today, Thank God I'm A Woman.
Softshell Sandwiches
Last month, on my parents dock in North Carolina I caught blue crabs for the first time. I love eating soft shell crabs in their entiretly more than fighting for the measly meat of a hard shell, so I considered holding them in captivity until they molted. I thought it kinder to kill and eat them then keep them imprisoned for longer than necessary.
They were tough little things, aggressive claws snapping away. Heck, I’d be the same if I were fighting for my life. I killed them, threw them on the grill and enjoyed the sweetest crab meet I'd ever had.
A few weeks later, I found some softshells at Fairway (for $1.99 each in Red Hook!). Their personalities completely change when their shells come off: without defense, they're almost cuddly. The vulnerability of a crab can make her ever so much more of a pleasure to be around.
Shelled and mean, or soft and sweet, they're both the same to me: Dinner.
Click here for my article on thestreet.com with a recipe on Softshell Crab Sandwiches.
posted by Allison Fishman Task at 1:06 PM
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