Riding Off Into The Sunset--From A Singles' Ride

I have never been to any sort of event or function with the word "singles" in it.  Honestly, I have never felt any great urgency about meeting a potential date or mate.  Other people in my life, however, have felt such anxiety and have tried to get me to go to bars, parties, dinners, book clubs, lecture series,gallery openings, church "socials" and even bike rides for the unattached.  Or they've invited me to lunch or dinner and, when I arrived, they introduced me to some similarly solo friend or co-worker who would be "right" or "great" for me.

It seems that there aren't as many singles' events as there were in my youth, and singles' bars seem to have disappeared altogether.  The main cause, I suspect, is the all of the ways in which people can find each other online.   
So I wonder what people who met on singles' fora of the past tell their children, or other young people--most of whom, I suspect, have no concept of the sorts of things I'm describing.

I am thinking now, in particular, a woman whose story I came across recently.  Suzanne Travis, a California nurse, went on a singles' bicycle ride on--you guessed it--Valentine's Day.  

As she tells the story, she was, in addition to a nurse, an aspiring stand-up comedienne.   She went to the bike ride the way she went to other singles' events: expecting that not much would come of it besides material for her routines.  After all, how many jokes or monologues have you heard about successful relationships or people who lived "happily ever after."

From Out and About Singles

On the ride, she met a man she describes as "adorable."  And, of course, she invited him to her show.  One thing led to another and now they have been married for 27 years.

She still rides her bike.  And she tells her jokes--to her patients.  They are a "captive audience", she says.  Apparently, that's what she needs: "I found that I became a little less funny the happier I got."

Hmm...More happy=Less funny?  Could that be the reason why we haven't heard many stand-up routines about cycling?

Cycling Couples and Bike Buddies

Much has been written, on various blogs and elsewhere, about cycling couples.  Most of those articles, entries and rants are about male-female couples of one variety or another.  

It seems that at least half of what I read on the subject concerns the disparity in ability, training, interest--or in the bicycles ridden--between the female and male half of the couple.  


When I first started cycling, the subject was mentioned only in passing, and only by men.  (Nearly everyone who cycled for non-utility purposes in those days was a man.)  In one of his books, Fred de Long referred to his wife as his "tandem partner."  I always wondered whether she was already cycling when she met him.  Or, was she a "willing convert"--or a grudging one?  


John Forester, in Effective Cycling (probably the best cycling book I read during my formative years) says frankly that one of his marriages broke up, in part, over her lack of interest in cycling and, as a result, one of the qualities he sought in  a prospective partner was her willingness to share his passion for cycling.  


A few articles in the magazines of the day--notably Bicycling!--mentioned the same dilemma.  However, the point of view was always the same: that of a high-mileage male cyclist.  This, from a magazine that was edited by a woman !


Later. on club rides, I would hear complaints from women about their male partners' impatience with them--or that those men had splurged on super-bikes for themselves but bought them uncomfortable bikes that handled like shopping carts.  And those men couldn't understand why they couldn't keep up, much less muster enthusiasm!


I have to admit that at in at least one relationship, I was guilty as charged.  Ironically, my last partner before my gender transition was the only one who shared my enthusiasm for cycling.  We did a tours of the Loire Valley and Vermont togethether, and were discussing plans for another when, er, other events intervened.


In my new life, the roles reversed.  I was the cyclist; he had no interest in it at all and couldn't understand why I'd spend an afternoon pedalling to some place to which he could drive in less than an hour.  However, that's not the only reason we're not together.


If you've been reading this blog, you might know that I sometimes ride with two female friends. Before my surgery, I was stronger than them, though not by as much as one might expect.  After my post-surgery layoff, and a shorter hiatus after I developed an infection, they were stronger than I was.  I'm starting to catch up; they have been patient.  (I don't post their photos only because they've asked me not to.  One of them just doesn't want, for professional reasons, to be mentioned on blogs or in any other public forum.  The other is simply shy.)  Somehow I don't recall anything like this in the groups of males with whom I used to ride.  When I look back, I feel that in those relationships, the accent in the phrase "cycling buddy" was on the first word.


Then again, on any Sunday, especially at this time of year, you can see people who are simply buddies who happen to be riding together, like these guys I saw on the Rockaway boardwalk:

Their bikes are what we used to call POS in one bike shop in which I worked.  But they don't know that, and don't seem to care.  Why would they?