The latest cause célèbre in the blogosphere on the other side of the pond is a blog called The Plankton, written by an anonymous 47 year old divorcee with a “brace of kids” who spends her time looking for the One. I realise that it is a bit of a literary conceit to think that a women would spend all of her time thinking about finding Mr. Right but due to the quality of the writing and the extreme position of her feelings, in a mere six weeks since the start of the blog, it has acquired a degree of fame which few long term blogs have achieved (even Clarissa). In only ten days, it has inspired an article by Winifred Robinson, a reporter at the Daily Mail, and a subsequent piece in the Guardian. Her blog leader is “The Plankton – Life at the bottom of the sexual food chain.” Some of the comments on her situation:
OK, so my marital status currently stands at “divorcee” – or plankton – and this is a creature seen by some sections of society as seriously wanting to say the least. Of course, the plankton status is hardly easy or enviable, which is why I am writing this blog.
It’s pitch black in my bedroom when I turn my light out, and completely silent. Sometimes, difficult nights, with no one beside me any more, and never again being a very real possibility, I feel I am already in my coffin…. I used to live for my husband and children, my family, friends, and my work. Now, I live for my children, and my family, my friends and my work. I may live till I am ninety, but a sort of death has already come.
What is she looking for?
I suppose all us planktons have in our minds the kind of man we are looking for. We know that’s almost certainly what we won’t get – that’s if we’re lucky enough to “get” anyone at all – but we certainly have a set of criteria, however vague, and we dream on. So posh and rich, and no less important: kind and grown-up.
Why hasn’t she had any success?
I need to talk about the injustice of any of the available men that do exist, even the crap ones, always having an infinite choice of women.
Not so long ago in a magazine, there was an article by a man around forty I think, whose wife had died. There was a double-page photograph of him in the foreground and behind him a veritable queue of attractive women lining up for his delectation. There was an expression on his face so smug that it was as if he were Lord Bloody Muck himself.
Twice in the last month I have been put next to men who if they weren’t sixty, I swear to God they were in their seventies. With a view to romance. Thanks a bunch. One was deaf in one ear; the other had brown, protruding spots all over his face and hands. I don’t want a man who can’t get it up and whose colostomy bag I am going to be having to change in five years’ time.
What kind of experiences has she had?
Divorced men fall into three categories:
1). Married men who have been left are like widowers, still in love with their wives. Broken men. If they want sex at all they want it not as a commitment but as a Wank Plus.
2). Making up for lost time (ie. the married years) and fucking anything (under thirty) that moves.
3). The majority. It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man never leaves his wife if he hasn’t already got another younger woman whom he is regularly and gloriously screwing. I have NEVER heard or read about or even contemplated the notion of a man leaving his wife for an older woman. Nor have you. It has never happened in the history of the world.
As I say. There are no men.
Anyway I enjoy reading her posts but as a male I wonder about the authenticity of the blog. Can life be that bad? From my personal knowledge, I think that there are lots of perfectly good and available men. If you limit yourself to the local area, expect rich and posh men, and don’t use the Internet dating sites then you’re certainly restricting yourself.