Lee Randall: Solo fliers still like to recruit co-pilots

Published on Tuesday 9 March 2010 18:09

THIS past weekend I travelled down to Bath – where I hadn't been in some 30 years – to take part in their Literary Festival, both as a session chair and as an audience member.

One of the events I attended featured Natasha Walter – some of you may recall I interviewed her not long ago for this paper's Saturday book supplement.

Walter is the author of a new book called Living Dolls, and had been invited to the festival to take part in a discussion with Kat Banyard, who's just published The Equality Illusion. Both writers argue – correctly, if you want my opinion – that feminism still has a long, long way to go, both in changing the way we think and in changing the way we act, vis--vis the law and public policy. And they agree that, in some key respects, the current situation is worse than ever in the UK.

There are many examples of why that is so, but I was struck by the way the largely female audience kept veering away from problems such as unequal pay for equal work, or the stress and strain of living in a country that gives endless lip service to the phrase "family values" but doesn't go far enough in helping families to cope.

Instead, they circled back to the dilemma that, even now, the message is that women are more valued when they're attractive. We are more ageist and more fatist than ever. And, it's argued, because our standards of female beauty are influenced by pornography, they've narrowed to such an extent that they're no bigger than a size zero's wrist. And about as easy to achieve!

Sure, we have come a long way from the days when women were viewed as chattels, and when a shortage of human rights meant that finding a partner was a vital economic strategy. Thankfully, it's no longer the case – at least in the first world – that a woman lacking a husband to shelter and support her must appeal to the tender mercies of her male relations or the state.

For all that the economics have changed, we still chase this dream of loving and being loved. Because we are terrified of being alone, we are preoccupied with the way we look, in the current climate. (Apologies for the heterosexual slant here, but in my experience gay women are much more – no pun intended – broadminded about what's deemed attractive.)

I'm guilty of this warped thinking myself. I have been known to eye up a couple and wonder not just, "Is she really going out with him?" but, "What has she got that I haven't got?" (Him, obviously!)

It's not simple envy or jealousy (subtlely different animals, as you well know). I don't fancy these specific men (OK, sometimes). I've certainly found that it's easier operating solo – you have only yourself to please, which is a boon for us selfish types.

But you also have only yourself to talk to. You have to hold your own hand in the cinema, point out interesting stories in the paper to yourself, and cuddle up to a pillow late at night.

All of which is bearable, but I believe there's something in us that feels incomplete without love. We feel that diminishment keenly, and fear it enormously. Maybe it's that emotion, and not opposable thumbs, that truly makes us human?

I suspect humans' other great fear is dying alone, with only a records clerk to note our passing. That's surely not tragic if you've managed to amuse yourself in life. So why do I feel wistful thinking about it?

The good news is that you can train your eye. At the risk of coming across like a leering fool, I endeavour to find something attractive about everyone I see. With any luck, they'll extend me the same courtesy!