Objectively. Obsessively. Obviously...
Yes, dear reader, it's THAT time again. Time to soil the sheets of the internet with my musings on the fairer sex (or not) and their impact on our lives. Or if you're already the alleged fairer sex, then you may take these barely legible and predictably not-thought-out ramblings as applied to the men in your lives.
I have a substantial number of exes. This is already well documented. I also happen to be friends with all of them. Well, all except "she who will never be mentioned without spitting" and that other one that seriously derailed many years ago. It's a situation I quite enjoy. It is after all, not just the romance and the sex that make up a relationship, there should be friendship as well. Now if you've been following this here little virtual soapbox you may have come across my views on life, especially love, and everything else. If not, try The List and Love Is In The Air.
My question, or rather my unpremeditated reflection today deals with the sometimes wonderful, always slightly scary lead up to the situation where you find yourself hitched.
I often wonder at all the different ways people tend to approach this.
- There are the obvious romantics, who embrace the feeling of mutual attraction and go with it and don't put too much thought into the ifs, whats and maybes.
- Then there are those that approach the whole thing with trepidation. Like it's something to be wary of. Like they are afraid of getting screwed over and are just waiting for the inevitable disappointment.
- A third type would be the lot that go from one person to the next with hedonistic abandon and scant regard for the consequences.
- There are also those that are literally too timid to expose their frail and fragile selves to the possible rejection and/or eventual pain.
It is an unfortunate truth, when meeting someone, or getting to know someone a little more closely, that these types are often in conflict. Rarely do you see kind for kind latch onto each other. I suppose it's simple arithmetic.
Why then, do we persist in struggling, in playing out the little dance of death and inflicting upon ourselves the dreaded "mopes" when things don't work out?
I have no idea.
Yet we're by and large a society of sufferers and masochists by the looks of it. Perhaps we enjoy the attention.
Obviously I don't have the answer. I'm - on the face of all the evidence - fucking useless at this.
If it were that easy to unravel the mysteries of the inner workings of the brains and hearts of people I'm sure someone would have done so by now. Also, it would make the whole mysterious affair a lot less... intriguing.
And we never learn either.
So, "to all the girls I've loved before...", (I am really tempted to write "so long and thanks for the fish" but I'll probably get moered, so I'm going with): thanks for contributing in a positive or negative way to the person I am today. Let's hear it for self love!
And on that strangely sentimental note, let's see what the reverent Saint Smith has to say on the matter:
Book 15 : Chapter 9 : Verse 36 - 39
Speaking of bombshells, look out for Tarty Farty Tequila Party's recollection of her weekend away to celebrate her birthday, coming soon!
And on the subject of of life, love, loss and fucking liberties, I am reminded of the old adage. "Nice guys finish last" - food for thought, ladies.
NGDG: "I, like everyone else, clearly, am hoping it rains. Otherwise I'm just standing beneath an extremely noisy sky, naked, in the garden."
Spread The Love. Without Fear Or Favour. Damage Incorporated.