I know many of you are reading this with baited breath, waiting for me to recount my experiences as a wild and wooly single gal swinging from man to man and taking no prisoners in This Crazy Game Called Love. Alas, that's not quite the confession I have to make. It may seem shocking, and I hesitate to destroy my image, but here goes. I didn't do singlehood very well. A serial monogamist by nature, the number of my conquests is, in this day of Wilt-Chamberlain-sized lists d'amour, small and discrete. When figures start getting tossed about and drunken public frolics that would make a satyr blush are recounted, I merely nod sagely. And press for more details, of course. My comparative chastity was not a matter of morals, after all. Oh, no. You see, it simply never crossed my mind to "hump 'em and dump 'em," though in a few cases I certainly wish I had. Nevertheless, I did experience a period of protracted singlehood long enough to learn that what you've already heard is true: if you are reasonably secure and happy all by your-self potential partners of all genders, ages and proclivities will come crawling out of the woodwork, ready to lay flowers at your feet, to say nothing of your charming self. When I figured this out, it was only a matter of choosing whose heart I would break, whose dreams I would fu fill, and what shoes I would wear while making the decision. Easy, right? Obviously not, based on the shelf-loads of advice books devoted to the subject. Come with me then, as we survey the wonderful world of
Advice Books for Singles
Lynn Peril © 1997
The Afternoon of Unmarried Life. New York: Rudd & Carleton, 1859. ($4.00 at the late, lamented Holmes Bookstore, Oakland, CA)
So you think you've got problems, eh? Just be glad you're not a nineteenth-century single gal reaching for this book, dedicated "to the Unmarried Gentlewomen of England." The Afternoon of Unmarried Life suggested that "spinsters" follow the tenets of True Womanhood: purity, piety, submissiveness and domesticity. Readers were admonished to "repress selfishness" by reading historical and religious works, and performing Christian service to others. As we will see, a secularized version of this advice (keep up on public events, don't feel sorry for your-self, meet others through volunteer work) remains popular, with one major difference. Readers of TAUL knew they had little chance of marriage in a society in which child-bearing and matrimony were virtually synonymous, and TAUL's anonymous author offered them no false hope. Instead she presented these inspirational lines from a poem called Thirty five: "Have we no charm when youth is flown/Midway to death left sad and lone?" Think about that the next time you see a liposuctioned, face-lifted, silicone-enhanced 50-year old traipsing across the pages of a glossy magazine to another society or film-industry function.
Live Alone and Like It: A Guide for the Extra Woman, by Marjorie Hills. Indianapolis and New York: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, 1936. ($2.00 at SFSU Used Book Room)
In the 20th century, books for singles tend to fall into two categories: those giving advice on enjoying one's single status, and those devoted to ending said status ASAP. Witty and urbane (so much so that Vanity Fair's Frank Crowinshield wrote the introduction), Live Alone and Like It falls squarely into the first camp. "There is a technique," author Marjorie Hills maintained, "about living alone successfully, as there is about doing anything well." The single woman who persists in picturing herself as "poor little me, all alone in the big bad world" will not only "soon actually be all alone; you will also be an outstanding example of a super-bore." In addition to its amusing "case studies," Live Alone and Like It actually provided a chapter about s-e-x entitled "Will You or Won't You." (Her down-to-earth advice is still valid: "Hold a little mental investigation of the case - and then do ! exactly as you please.") Ah, to be Miss R., spending a lazy Saturday evening at home, "taking a tub," then rubbing "her- self down with a pet toilet water": After this she put on a brief step-in and a pair of maroon satin lounging pajamas and ensconced herself on the couch in the living room, armed with two or three of the latest magazines. Before dinner, the maid brought her a glass of sherry and some simple crackers. Naysayers among you will ask, "Just who in 1936 (let alone 1996) had the income to live like this?" Pish-tosh, I say. Find a copy of this book, follow Marjorie Hill's excellent advice, and soon you will find yourself wrapped in white marabou and satin, living in the style to which we should all become accustomed - single or not.
Why Not Get Married? by Harvey A. Kalish. New York: E.P. Dutton & Co., 1937.
On the other hand, Harvey A. Kalish addressed his guidebook to "women who do not like, perhaps even hate, to live alone; and, at least to themselves, are frank enough to admit it." Why Not Get Married? lacked Live Alone and Like It's verve and wit, but made up for it with a more honest appraisal of a single woman's economic prospects in the mid-1930s:
In most cases women who work are employed not so much for any special skill they may have, but because they can be paid less than men would have to receive for the same job. On the other hand, the living expenses of a single girl are at least as high, while in the important item of rent, women usually have to pay a good deal more than men do for suitable living quarters. The girl who has to work can get by, in most cases, only because she lives at home. As the years pass, however, the need for depending more on her earnings increases, while her actual earning power tends to decrease.
Economic inequity and social custom were two reasons why women sought marriage. However getting married itself was "largely the result of winning at a game which requires skill, training and a highly developed technique." Why Not Get Married merely provided "some of the rules plus ... advice, as to how best [the game] should be played." Sound familiar? But Kalish administered a dose of radical politics along with the advice. Women "must oppose war and all that it implies." They should "vigorously advocate legislation and economic developments" to raise the "standards of living and security in our social life." Taken with his suggestion that to meet men women should go where men are, one can only surmise that Kalish was trying to rectify the babe shortage down at ye olde socialist meeting hall.
Let's Make Mary: Being A Gentleman's Guide to Scientific Seduction In Eight Easy Lessons, by Jack Hanley. New York: Phoenix Press, 1937. (Maybe at the SFSU used book room?)
Of course, there are books for single guys, too - just a whole lot less of them. A good deal of those that do exist are of the bare-chested, he-man school - all about getting laid, not how to decorate one's apartment or spend a Saturday night alone. Let's Make Mary was a humorous guide purportedly for the man who liked his steak rare, his whiskey neat, and his women submissive. Parts are actually quite amusing. For example, I liked the "brief guide to a whimsical vocabulary" -- not to be used on just any woman, but "The Gay Girl" (that's "gay" in its original definition, me bucko):
Don't Say... Say.. .
I love you Mary You're getting in my hair, mugwumps.
Hey, waiter--more butter. Ho, varlet! A bit of larded lubricant for the staff
of life. (Pointing to the butter chip.)
Come to think about it, Jack Hanley may have been Helen Gurley Brown's inspiration. Certainly the Let's Make Mary Man and the Cosmo Girl were made for each other.
How to Be Happy While Single, by Jean Van Evera. Philadelphia and New York: J.B. Lippincott Company, 1949. ($1.00 at St. Vincent de Paul, Redwood City, CA)
Personally, I think everyone would be happier while single if they read Live Alone and Like It. Clearly the grandchild of The Afternoon of Unmarried Life, How to Be Happy... shared its underlying assumption that single women led empty lives which needed filling. Likewise, Van Evera counseled women not to feel sorry for themselves, yet at the same time took on a vaguely pitying tone throughout the book. And while she admitted that "sex is here to stay," Van Evera made sure readers knew that the "emotional damage" suffered by a single woman who engaged in "illicit romance ... [would] gouge her severely." But not to worry, because the last chap-ter was titled "When You Marry," proving that Van Evera envisioned a quick end to irk-some singlehood.
How to Be a Successful Widow, by R. Louis Zalk. New York: Fleet Publishing Corporation, 1957. (Gift from J. Marr, who found it on top of a trash can.)
There is, you know, more than one type of singlehood. Books for widows tended to focus on monetary matters - then as now, many women were forced to take a crash course in financial management after their husbands' deaths. Successful Widow, however, took the plunge into social advice. Besides holding forth on "E" Bonds and unemployment insurance, Zalk ventured as far afield as the subject of "laggard children" ("Does he tarry unduly on the toilet because of delayed evacuation? Constipation is a condition which can and should be corrected for reasons of present and future well-being.") and widows who "play the field." Zalk quoted at length from a letter he received (he was a newspaper columnist) from the daughter of "one such woman":
My mother is disgracing us. I am so ashamed of her, I can hardly face my family and friends.
Father wasn't buried a month before she started having dates with men. And what men! Old, young, married, single, any kind.
She drinks and smokes, which are things she never did before, and she spends all her time in liquor places. . . . One night my husband found her in a cheap night spot with a young hoodlum. He had to fight them both to get her out of the place. ... [But what was hubby doing there in the first place? Ed.]
Sometimes she has dates with travelling men and stays away all night. .
She is 47. What a way for a woman of that age to act!
Zalk's advice? "Perhaps the best solution to the problem . . . is to have her confined to a sanatorium until she regains her better sense." Why? Because "she is ill. Illness requires treatment..." Zalk also explained that the "sudden cessation" of sexual relations caused "restlessness." No, no, not that kind of restlessness. Zalk meant insomnia. To cure women "suddenly denied the sedative effect of satisfactory sexual intercourse," he suggested the following alternatives: counting sheep, warm milk taken at bed time, or reading oneself to sleep. Poor Mrs. Zalk.
Sex and the Single Girl, by Helen Gurley Brown. New York: Bernard Gies & Associates, 1962. (Available at every thrift store in the universe.)
This is it, the book that "torpedoed the myth that a girl must be married to enjoy a satisfying life," or so says the cover of my paperback edition. Like other guides to single life, S&SG offered its readers advice on dress, interior design, personal finance and physical fitness. It included recipes for enchanting dinners for two and thoughts on entertaining. But what made S&SG so revolutionary was Helen Gurley Brown's belief that single women could experience "unadulterated, cliffhanging sex" without remorse. She urged her readers to "reconsider the idea that sex without marriage is dirty." Married men, Brown maintained, were perfect partners for the no-strings sexuality she advocated (though she herself was, in fact, married). Of course, all of this was guaranteed to cause apoplectic fits in the hinterlands. As a result S&SG shot to the top of the bestseller lists, spawning in its wake a film version, a record (see MD#2), at least three sequels (Sex in the Office, The Single Girl's Cookbook, and The New S&SG), and a host of imitators such as .. .
The Bachelor Girl, by Kay Martin. New York: Macfadden Books, 1963. ($1.00; Goodwill, SF, CA.)
"'Spinster' is an excellent name for a yacht; Old Maid is a kids' card game. Learn to reap the most fun and fulfillment of being a bachelor girl!" Clearly an attempt to cash in on S&SG's popularity, The Bachelor Girl lacked Helen Gurley Brown's enthusiasm and wit, not to mention her originality. While the sexually liberated (well, at least until she was deconstructed by the women's movement) Single Girl was free to choose her marital status, the Bachelor Girl knew that it was "mathematically impossible for every unmarried woman to find a husband," thanks to statistics which "proved" a shortage of eligible, i.e. unmarried, males. But the major philosophical difference between BG and SG lay in their attitudes towards sex. The Bachelor Girl wisely recognize[d] that the sex act [was] only a partial fulfillment for the normal female; childbearing and rearing are a necessary part of the triumvirate which completes the female sex cycle. What made the Single Girl so revolutionary, of course, was that she whole-heart- edly rejected this socially constructed "triumvirate." While, Martin refreshingly decried the "mantrap" mentality of other advice books ("Men are people . . . people are not `snagged:"), she nevertheless provided a list of states with low male populaces, and suggested that readers increase their marital odds by relocating.
The Anatomy of a Love Affair: A Guide to Sex for the Girl Who Says "Yes," by Evelyn Bourne. New York Pyramid Books, 1965.
Written in a style reminiscent of Helen Gurley Brown's, The Anatomy of a Love Affair purported to focus squarely on the juicy parts. But ALA was less a guide to sex, than a copycat S&SG without the recipes or home decorating tips. There were also philosophical differences. While married men were the Single Girl's canapes, Bourne truthfully observed that they "should be avoided," unless readers had "no scruples about making him, yourself and possibly several other human beings miserable." Otherwise, ALA broke little new ground, content to follow the trail blazed by S&SG. Both books took the somewhat contradictory position that while it was OK for good girls to enjoy unmarried sex, it was not ladylike for them to directly initiate the proceedings. Just as teenage girls were counselled never to call a boy they liked, sexually active single women were supposed to manipulate their partners of choice into making the first move.
By the way, neither Helen Gurley Brown, Kay Martin nor Evelyn Bourne provided their readers with information on protecting themselves against pregnancy or sexually transmitted diseases. Recipes for Lobster Thermidor, yes; why and where to get condoms, no.
The Intelligent Woman's Guide to Man-Hunting, by Dr. Albert Ellis. New York: Dell Publishing, 1965. Gift from Tina and Russell.
Despite the title, Dr. Ellis despised "the usual female-endorsed man-baiting manual," and maintained that women who followed their rules were "almost guaranteed to wed an undemocratic, woman-downing satrap [ "a petty tyrant" - ed.]... the same sort of cad that married Mom and Grandmom." Dr. Ellis reasoned that he, as a male, was more qualified than a woman to expound upon what it was men really wanted, and he did so in a lively, sassy and most entertaining manner. "Let's face it at the start," he wrote, "most men are kooks." As with so many things, it takes one to know one, yet much of Dr. Ellis's advice was quite sound. In short, Ellis advised women to drop much of the subterfuge and falsity that HGB and other writers maintained was necessary to "hook" a man. One of the first prolific pop-psychologists, Ellis had as few qualms about describing his patients as "highly disturbed" as he did about advertising his other books throughout the text (errrr, not that that's a bad thing). While Ellis urged readers to use contraceptives, he also believed that restricting "sex relations to relatively mature, sensible, responsible males of middle-class or upper-class status" would effectively prevent one from contracting venereal diseases, advice that no doubt led to some nasty surprises.
After Sex With The Single Girl, by Richard Bernstein and William Storm Hale. Los Angeles: Marvin Miller Enterprises, 1965. (A donation from J.M.) and Swingers Guide For The Single Girl: Key to the New Morality, by Marie and Hector Roget. Los Angeles: Holloway House, 1966. ($2.50 at McDonald's Books, SF, CA)
Both of these are examples of how the "adult" books market took advantage of the media hoopla which surrounded the publication of Sex & The Single Girl. The cleverly titled After Sex . . . was not, of course, the serious work of social criticism revealing "startling facts on the rocketing rate of illegitimate motherhood in America today" that its cover led readers to think. Instead, its "scores of authentic case histories" catered to one-handed readers interested in "Wilma" and her "erotic dreams of Ross and his organ" (which, by the way, wasn't a Wurlitzer). The Swingers Guide, meanwhile, was a less racy but nevertheless fascinating artifact of the mid-60s sexual revolution. The authors' stated purpose was "to help modern women solve some of the almost overbearing problems involved in learning to live happily and contentedly . . . in the Age of the Pills," of which the Rogets, who were allegedly "trained" in sociology and sexology (i.e., they were wife-swappers), were enthusiastic proponents. This is the sort of book that men bought for girlfriends reluctant to engage in pre-marital sex. Here, for example, what they had to say about "The Female Pills":
A touchy bit of indecision that bothers many girls, when first entering into a sexual relationship with a man, is about which one of them should be insuring that conception does not occur.
Don't let the question fill your pretty head. The average man prefers not to be annoyed with remembering such details, regarding conception in the Age of the Pill to be the women's responsibility.
Which the Rogets obviously considered it to be as well, though to be fair they later stated that "outside of marriage there is no reason why you should not insist that all sexual conduct" be with condoms, as protection against VD. Then again, consider what they called "Instant Sex" -- which entirely did away with fore-play and female sexual arousal -- "this is a thrilling sexsation for the man, and one which every woman will occasionally enjoy." Good thing they told their readers not to "expect complete sexual satisfaction from every sexual encounter"! Chapter 14 was entitled "Affairs Should Be Fun," but the Rogets sure didn't make them sound that way.
A Life of Your Own, by Harriet LaBarre. New York: David McKay Company, Inc., 1972. (92 cents off Mechanics Institute Library used book table.)
A guidebook for the spunky "live-alone" gal of a Mary Richards stripe, A Life ... is strangely reminiscent of an earlier era. In fact, if you overlook the chapter on "Physical Security," you really might think you were reading How to Be Happy While Single. The chapters on money, clothing, home decorating, and food almost could have been lifted directly from its pages. As far as sex, Ms. LaBarre suggested that her readers "consider making an emotional commitment" before proceeding with what she termed "an affair," but once again, offered no information regarding contraception or disease prevention. A Life of Your Own may have promoted self-esteem, but it made single life sound about as exciting crocheting a potholder.
Teach Your Wife How to Be a Widow. Washington, D.C.: Books by U.S. News & World Report, 1973.
No, it doesn't compare the relative merits of firearms versus pharmaceuticals -- it just gives straightforward financial information. Nevertheless, I can still hear the wheels that began turning in many wives' heads when their husbands brought this baby home.
The Second-Time Single Man's Survival Handbook, by William J. Gordon & Steven D. Price. New York Praeger Publishers, 1975.
Alas, no smooth seduction techniques here, just tips for pathetic Lonely Guys whose ex-wives took care of everything but the car and the money. With chapters on how to find and decorate an apartment, shopping and cooking skills, much of this information was interchangeable with that presented in guides written for single women. What I find amazing, however, is the section on clothing. Written with the "chaps whose mothers or wives took care of replenishing their haberdashery" in mind, Gordon and Price started with the basics: "To learn your size, check the label of a comfort- able pair of undershorts..." While the authors tried to adopt a hearty, positive attitude (Chapter 1 was called "Yes You Can"), a stench of desperation and hang-dog pathos clung to Second-Time Single's very pages. (P.S. I know all male Mystery Date readers know their underwear size, regard-less of marital status. Right?)
How To Meet Men ... Now That You're Liberated, by Audrey Gellis. New York: Popular Library, 1978.
Hands down one of my all-time favorite titles However, reading this book while wearing a New Freedom maxipad did not a member of NOW make. In fact, How to Meet Men differed little from its predecessors, i.e., it counseled readers that "to meet men, go where men are." Gellis even suggested that her presumably liberated gal readers consider becoming cocktail waitresses, receptionists or -- heaven for-bid -- "crafts peddlers" in order to increase their chances of meeting a mate. But don't let that fool you. Gellis was in the vanguard when it came to exploiting the technological wonder called CB radio for dating purposes:
CB radio has swept the country and is definitely here to stay. Most CBers seem to be men, probably because [it] appeals to macho fantasies . . . of a rugged loner traveling the open road ... If you own a car, install a CB radio. Learn the lingo and adopt a colorful CB name for yourself.
That's a big 10-4, Lil' Hustler.
Meeting Strangers, by Marsha Lerner. Self-published, 1991.
While Meeting Strangers isn't technically an advice book, singles would do well to look upon it as a cautionary tale. Lerner published the book herself, and her writing veers between passable and deadly boring. Nevertheless, the book is oddly compelling, the printed equivalent of eavesdropping on your next door neighbors. In Meeting Strangers, Lerner recounts her experiences meeting men through personal ads in New York and San Francisco. Of course, everyone once in a while she deviated from the personal ad route, and picked up a sailor in North Beach. Her taste in men was execrable, and I continually found myself amazed that she would even talk to, yet alone sleep with, men I wouldn't sit next to on the bus. Not surprisingly, her taste in roommates was little better. One, an alcoholic woman, went so far as to physically assault her. Then again, maybe she read some of Lerner's prose:
We can't seem to remember our birth, so our death is something that will fade away like a piece of sand. So tiny, but then the wind blows, and it goes away. Somewhere. Where? Gone. Forgotten? Maybe not. Maybe within time. Did it feel any pain as it blew away? I wonder if an ant feels pain when we squeeze it in a tissue and flush it down a toilet. How long does the pain last?
Only until you put the book down, Marsha.
I couldn't really end this look at guides for singles without a mention of The Rules, by Ellen Fein and Sherrie Schneider. Warner Books, 1996. (May the gods forgive me, but I actually paid full retail for this soon-to-be staple of thrift store shelves. I just couldn't wait. You see to what lengths I am willing to go for my readers?) It never ceases to amaze me how often so many ideas that we regularly scoff at as "dated" rear their ugly little heads all decked out in nineties jargon as the latest and greatest thing. Take The Rules, for example, "a simple way of acting around men" that will "make Mr. Right obsessed with having you as his by making your-self seem unattainable . According to Fein and Schneider "women who call men, ask them out ... or offer "sex on the first date destroy male ambition and animal drive. Men are born to respond to challenge." Women, therefore should "become challenging." This means never initiating conversation with a man you're interested in, never calling a man you're dating, never paying for dates, and never accepting a Saturday night date later in the week than Wednesday. Men must take the lead, socially and sexually ("biologically, the man must pursue the woman"). Then again, just as Helen Gurley Brown hit the jackpot by offering up the bombshell of unrestrained female sexuality in Sex & The Single Girl, so too are Fein and Schneider crazy like foxes in presenting their reactionary rhetoric. Of course, one can only hope that The Rules reached the top of the New York Times bestseller list because so many women bought the book as a gag gift for their pals. They certainly weren't buying it for its exclamation-point-sodden writing style.
Then again, maybe there are women out there who want to be told "How to Act on Dates 1, 2 and 3." For the rest of us, however, The Rules can be summed up in eight simple words: "Check your brain and personality at the door." This philosophy applies to reading The Rules itself, as well as to dating. Indeed, Fein and Schneider create a strangely closed and totalitarian environment. Readers are promised impossible results ("...if you continue to do The Rules and pray for patience, you will eventually meet and marry the man of your dreams," "abuse doesn't happen in Rules relationships because when you play hard to get and he works like hell to get you, he thinks you're the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world"), and told to ignore friends, family, and other concerned individuals who disparage Rules techniques ("don't be surprised if the people around you don't support your new philosophy ... we suggest you find like-minded women who believe in The Rules," "don't stop doing The Rules because married women told you they didnŐt ... How do you know that, because she pursued him, he isn't always neglecting her or spending too much time at the office?"). In fact, my favorite Rule is #31 "Don't Discuss The Rules With Your Therapist." This all sounds suspiciously cult-like to me. Just remember that, when hundreds of single women eat arsenic-laced Lean Cuisine entrees at The Rules' Club Med compound, you heard it here first.
