Thank You, Leo Grande, From All of Us.
“People need to feel seen, heard, and valued to have the desire to grow.” ~ Marcia Reynolds
There is nothing lonelier than an unfulfilling married life.
Emma Thompson became Nancy Stokes in the movie titled, Good Luck to You, Leo Grande. She was a retired religious education teacher, widow, and mother of two adult children. She thought her son was boring and her daughter was daunting. Nancy confessed to feeling cold toward them.
Nancy decided to take a journey of self-discovery by booking an afternoon in a fancy hotel with Leo, a gorgeous, young sex worker. She brought a to-do list. An honest-to-god, hand written, grocery list of erotic experiences.
Nancy told Leo, “I like a list I can tick off.”
Hilarious!
One of the tasks not on Nancy’s list was to experience an orgasm. She had never been able to achieve a physical climax. A hopeless request, even for Leo.
Nancy’s husband had been her one and only sexual partner. She reenacted their missionary sex life, including her best fake orgasm. Leo laughed. At one point Nancy surmised some nuns had more sexual experience than she did.
It wasn’t easy for Nancy to check off her sex-do list. She was anxious, self-conscious, and had second thoughts. Over the course of several sessions with Leo, they talked, they danced, and they drank champagne. Nancy became more comfortable with her aging body.
Leo was not put off by her fleshy waistline and droopy breasts. In fact, he became aroused.
“Being looked at by you makes me feel good,” Leo tells her.
“I can’t imagine that,” replies Nancy.
Me either.
Leo continued to dish out tender moments of honesty and acceptance. He listened. Not only did he listen, but asked questions and… wait for it… allowed her a safe space to speak her truth. Yes, I realize that Leo was doing what she paid him to do. The fact that he knew what she needed was impressive.
He acknowledged her as a woman, but also as a human who had spent her entire life invisible to her husband and kids. I suspect that theme rang true for many beyond middle aged viewers.
Leo watched Nancy with endearing attention. He told her she was interesting because she was conflicted. She talked a lot. Boy, did she need to talk.
At last, Nancy stopped talking. She and Leo got down to conducting business and her to-do list spontaneously combusted. Check. Check. And double check!
I watched the movie while cat sitting for a friend and I instinctively covered Mitten’s eyes.
The transformation in Nancy was subtle. She gradually morphed from frumpy to fantastic.
At the end of the movie, she told Leo she would not need to see him again.
“Good Luck to you, Leo Grande,” were her parting words.
Leo saw, heard, and valued Nancy — she did the same for him.
Both characters released the past, letting go of resentment, shame, and disappointment. They grew into better versions of themselves.
The patron saint of women beyond middle age, Emma Thompson, admired her body in a full length mirror.
Nancy Stokes smiled at her nude refection.
I smiled with her.
Why did the movie speak to me? Art imitates life.
The movie features familiar themes involving emotional layers that are important: Husbands and wives, parents and adult children, siblings, widowhood, loss, aging, sexuality, loneliness, and invisibility.
I’ll start with marriage. Hmmm! I don’t remember much about it. However, I wouldn’t have left my husband of 30 years if we were anywhere near the on-the-level bubble.
Nancy reflects for her being a parent was like having a “dead weight” around her neck.
I thought my children were the cutest beings on the planet. I enjoyed my kids and wanted to spend time with them. Until they became teenagers.
Now, they are adults and are no longer the cutest beings on the planet. They figured that out all by themselves. I stalk them via text when I want to know if they are still breathing.
After my divorce, one of my children pointed out that I didn’t seem to need anyone. This was not given or taken as a compliment. The loss of my dream house, identity, and family left me floundering for several years. I developed survival skills that includes a seething distain for Old White Guys.
Nancy admits she isn’t interested in an old guy. She wants a young guy and is willing to pay for it.
Would I book a session with Leo?
I told a friend that I would take out a second mortgage on my house to be seen, heard, and valued. Maybe I need to talk too?
As cliché as it sounds, feeling worthy is an inside job. It seems to be a fulltime career. The invitation to make changes, let go of what doesn’t allow for growth, is a daily and sometimes hourly event. That said, would I like to be seen, heard and valued by an adorable, Young Irish Guy? Hell, yeah! That would be icing on the cake.
How about having an afternoon of hot sex with Leo? Hell yes!
One of the themes in the movie was Nancy’s difficulty with acceptance of her aging body.
I have been young, thin, tan, blonde, and I was completely invisible. I must have been born with that superpower.
There was one exception. I lived on Maui and my youngest daughter came to stay. I picked her up at the airport and her first words were, “Where did you get that electric haystack hairdo?” She assessed further. “Mom, there’s such a thing as being too thin, too tan, and too blonde. You look like a fucking creature of the beach.” Then she made a face and a sound I will never forget. “EEEEEK!”
So much for being seen.
Recently, I have been more assertive when I’m overlooked, and also some Old White Guy steps in front of me in a line.
For example, last week I was standing in line at the Post Office. There were several people in front of me and a woman behind me. A postal employee worked at the counter. She was in slow motion. An OWG stepped in front of me. After a couple of minutes I said, “Sir, didn’t you see me here?”
“It’s not my problem you are so stupid you can’t read the sign. You’re not standing on the right arrow.” Then he grudgingly stepped aside and let me in front of him.
I should have turned tail and fled.
He could have pulled a handgun from one of the bulging pockets of his cargo pants.
“It’s my mistake. Please go ahead of me.” I said.
I should have been in my car speeding away.
He stepped in front of me and scowled, “You could have been nicer, instead you smirked.”
It was a hard week for Republicans. I should have been nicer.
I guess being seen, heard, and valued isn’t as important as being wise enough to allow a OWG to cut in line.
Thank you, Leo Grande. You were priceless.
