And I Love Her
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. --Ecclesiastes 3:1I rather like that chapter, the whole book, in fact. It's one of the short ones, so it won't take much time if you want to jump over there and check it out. I don't really know why I'm writing about it though, since I try to stay away from religion as much as possible. Recent events in the Middle East are, to me anyway, proof positive that nobody knows what they're talking about. Neither side is 100% right, no matter how many pounds of explosive you pack into each shell. And I'd best shut up about it all lest the kooks come after me. (Because the terrorists hate us for our blogs.)
Read into it what you will, but chapter 3, verses 4 & 8 are particularly relevant today. See, the smart-chick dumped me yesterday (via email), proving that my instincts were right about her not being all that into me. Despite being right, it still stings, being told you're the runner-up. On the other hand, a big in-your-face, big dis-grace to everyone who told me to sack-up and ignore my nagging doubts. Although it sounds like I'm being defensive, I had my reservations about her as well. But as I write this, and consider what it was that bothered me, I see that it's actually a double-edged sword. I've invented a Catch-22 for my heart, one that could seriously get in the way unlesss I do something about it. Part of the catch is similar to the famous quote by Groucho Marx, "I don't care to belong to any club that will have me as a member." The other part is that I shouldn't have to talk a woman into choosing me. I've never liked salespeople and I would sooner shoot myself in the face than become one.
With every setback, introspection. I'm not whining that nobody loves me, that I'll never find love, or that my thighs are too fat. I'm not going to let a little thing like this fuck up my golf game. (Because if I can't get it in the hole, what woman would want me?) I need to reevaluate the rules that I somehow drafted, pushed through committee, and were ratified without my unanimous consent. It is, and has always been, more important to me to find the love of my life. And to be hers. I want little more, not fame or fortune, than to be remembered as tinyhands: devoted husband and father. It would bring me no joy whatsoever to throw myself into a job, accomplish meaningless tasks, and have my epitaph read tinyhands: accountant and Excel-guru. And fruitless-job-interview after fruitless-job-interview to the contrary, I'm on a course to accomplish the latter.
I just want to do that thing, at least once in my life, where I'm waiting at the airport with a bouquet of flowers and she comes off the jetway, drops her carry-on, and runs into my arms. A time to embrace.
posted by tinyhands @ 11:59 PM
17 Comments:
Note: It is merely an unfortunate coincidence of the title and subject of this post. The title is not to be interpreted as prelude to or extension of the prose.
The other part is that I shouldn't have to talk a woman into choosing me. I've never liked salespeople and I would sooner shoot myself in the face than become one.
Amen.
I'm sorry to hear about smart-chick.
I swear, I just woke up from that dream of being the girl at the airport throwing my arms around a man waiting for me with flowers! It was very nice.
Your time will come. Soon. Bring sunflowers.
How's that for today's Bethoscope? :-D
There are many different philosophies regarding love and happiness. I like this one: Forget about the pursuit of happiness; that way lies grief. Instead, concentrate of on the happiness of pursuit.
For what it's worth. Just sayin'.
She is waiting for you, Hands.
Oh, and by the way, it has EVERYTHING to do with your thighs.
JR- Thanks. If you weren't so far away I'd put the hard-sell on you any day. ;)
Beth- Did your dream take place at Gatwick?
Ang- If you don't mind me picking and choosing from your advice, I may concentrate on forgetting.
Crystal- My thighs are irresistible in the short jean shorts, so that can't be it.
that's a nice little glimpse into the real person that i'm proud to call my real friend.
Love this. Love it so much I just don't have the words...
Hold onto that dream, and bring daisies.
One should never underestimate the value of getting it in the hole.
Mimi: Takes one to know one. A friend, that is.
KCTL: Tip of the iceberg, my dear.
Brighton: How did you know I was a daisies kind of guy?
Bourbon-Lite: "Sex stops when you pull up your pants. Love never lets you go." --Kingsley Amis
My humblest ninja apologies. As soon as my schedule loosens up, we'll hang out. Too many assassinations to handle right now.
Beautiful and sorry about smart girl. Bring flowers if you must, but I prefer caramels wrapped in chocolate. ;-)
i wanna hear a story about how you entertained two different women in two nights...that would be interesting!
Sensei- Let me know if you want to outsource some of those killings.
Peach- Dark chocolates
Tonia- Such sad and desperate women those must be.
I was told to come over here and check your blog out. Hmmmm....You need a wingman, bro.
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