I’m a widow. Don’t you hate that word? Sounds like I’m a black widow spider. Men don’t want to date me because they think I’ll kill and eat them. It’s tough when you are too young to be a widow, but not yet old enough to give up on life.

But, I’m getting use to widowhood now. I’ve learned to be careful. I’m not sure what I’m suppose to be careful about – but every time I meet someone, my friends all say, “just be careful!” I think maybe they mean, “Be suspicious, he is only after your insurance money and pension.” There is one really bad catch about a widow’s pension – if she remarries, she usually loses it. Maybe that’s why the black widow spider is such a bitch. She’s got to get rid of him before he proposes!

When I meet somebody new, I let him think I’m divorced. It’s less of a problem that way. A divorcee is viewed as a desirable, sexy, fun-loving, free spirit. When you’re a widow, they figure you probably nagged some poor schmuck till you sent him to his grave. People can say the meanest things to widows.

Some divorcees say I am lucky because at least I don’t have to put up with an ex. Funny, I don’t feel very lucky. People never really understand. Death is such a depressing thing. Nobody wants to talk about it. They are afraid it might upset me. Upset me? One of the worse things that can happen in life happened to me. I’ve been to hell and back! If you want to upset me, pretend it never happened.

And the kids… what do you say to the kids when you’re finally ready to invite a new man into your life? “Mommy knows how much you miss daddy – I miss him too. And by the way, here’s the new guy I’m dating.”

I guess it’s not easy to date a widow. How can anyone complete with a memory? When you are divorced, the ex-hubby is always around to remind everyone what a S.O.B. he is: late with the alimony payments, flaunting the latest woman that he picked up who knows where, forgetting the kids’ visitation day. But when he’s dead, he can’t aggravate you any more. He gave you all he had — nothing to criticize there.

Then the kids grow up and leave home and you’re all alone with nothing but your pension to keep you warm. Talk about an empty web! So what do you do? Sit home on your pedestal and cry? Marry and throw your monthly pension check out the window? Or kill your mother, shame your family, and live in sin? I know what you are thinking – you naughty person, you!

So, I met someone, at last – on the Internet. We have a lot in common. He’s a Yankee – I’m a Rebel. He’s Jewish – I’m Protestant; he has a dog – I have a cat; he has an SUV – I have a sports car; he eats Kosher – I eat ham. Can you see why we were attracted to each other? But, we both have Gateway computers. The question is: Is that enough to base a long-term relationship on?

Well, thank you for listening to my problems. Don’t worry about me – I’m a survivor, and I never did look good in black. I’ll just sit here quietly on my pedestal and try not to fall off or do anything to remind you we are all mortal.

Just do me one favor. Don’t be afraid to talk about death. And call me single, call me unmarried, call me a spinster – oh, hell, call me a widow – who cares?

Copyright 1999 Sheila Moss