No strings attached
What do women want from a man? Not too much, it seems - sex, the odd bit of DIY. But increasingly they can do without cohabitation
Mary Jane
Sunday March 18, 2001
The Observer
A friend in her late thirties confides that she intends to end a four-month relationship with a man who initially came round to plaster her living room ceiling. 'We have nothing to talk about,' she announces. 'No common ground. We do have very good sex - and I'll miss that - but I would like to have very good sex with someone I can talk to afterwards.'
Sounds reasonable. I wonder when she intends to inform him that his services are no longer required. 'In three or four weeks.' Three or four weeks having sex - even very good sex - with someone with whom you cannot communicate sounds like stretching it a bit. I suggest she deals with it sooner (these things are never easy, but cruel to be kind and all that). She explains: 'He's putting up shelves. I'll wait until he's done the bedroom because it's driving me nuts, having nowhere to put my magazines.' How we howl. I am reminded of my three-year stint as editor of more! magazine in the mid-Nineties, largely spent inventing features along the lines of 'Useful jobs for a boyfriend to have' and jacking up sales with supplements with titles such as 'Men: A User's Guide'. The whole premise was that men were to tease, have fun and frolic with; not 'please' or 'turn on' or crowbar into commitment as the previous generation of women's magazines had kindly instructed us. The editorial team - in their early twenties, like our readers - dreamed up 'features'; games involving the staff consuming enormous quantities of alcohol and pouncing on men enjoying quiet after-work drinks. On one occasion, the sole male staffer was 'auctioned off' and dispatched on a trip to the States with a young female reader who yelped with delight at having 'won' him. Which is precisely how young women are supposed to behave. We were raised on Just Seventeen - all cockiness and no-messing sex advice - not Jackie, in which agony aunts Cathie and Claire would sternly warn readers not to 'go too far' or 'let' boys fiddle with the clasps of their teen bras. The remainder of the magazine consisted of tips on ïgetting him to notice you', implying an awful lot of time dawdling about on drizzly football pitches, batting eyelashes hopefully.
In the Corinthian, a vast, ornate bar off George Square in Glasgow, there is major hair, make-up and flirtation going on. I meet a lively group of women. 'The older I get, the more picky I'm becoming,' says Jill Riddiford, a 36-year-old actress. 'The other night, a gay male friend and I were discussing how intolerant we'd become: how we ruled out men who were rude to waitresses or bank clerks, who were badly dressed, or too well-dressed' Jill has been single for three years and says: 'If you're not interested in marriage or children - and I'm not - you don't have that pressure to do the expected thing. The beginnings of relationships are great, that heady rapture, all that adrenaline flying around, but it's not a state that lasts. You can derive that excitement from other places like landing a great job.' Her friend Adele, 39, who works in market research, is on the verge of moving in with her partner of eight months. She is pragmatic about the arrangement: 'We met, like each other and I was looking for a flat - I feel OK about it. But I've been married before and am more cynical, less naive.' Comparing her current attitude to her younger self, she reasons: 'Now, I look for certain qualities - intelligence, humour - rather than just putting up with stuff. I think, does he make me laugh or bore me to death?' Adele admits that, if a relationship is not working, she is 'completely honest' and ended one liaison with a quick call to his mobile. She says: 'If I don't have children it's not the end of the world. I wouldn't feel out of the norm. And I wouldn't rule out bringing up a child on my own, if that's how things work out; a baby would have a good life with me.' In the next booth, a cluster of women in their late twenties swivel round in unison when a waiter brings a note from a group of men at the bar. Watching, amused, is Mags, a 29-year-old full-time mother whose 10-year-marriage ended at Christmas. 'Do women use men? Of course. They want to have their wicked way exactly in the way that men do,' she says. Mags concedes that she might 'catch someone's eye and get talking Ü if it happens, it happens. I don't want to get married again and I have two children so I could just do with a laugh, to be honest'.
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