I'm too sleepy to write anything political, or to think very hard about things controversial.
Instead, I'll share a realization I had the other day. Perhaps it's indicative of getting older, I don't know.
When I think back over romantic attachments in my past, the people I remember most fondly are seldom the ones I actually went to bed with. Rather, the almosts hold my memory: The single kisses, that for one reason or another never went any further; the flirtations, with the too-long eye-contact that never quite turned into anything. The potential interrupted. It's just irresistable.
I'm not sure what that says about me. Commitment-phobe, my ex would probably say. Heh.
How 'bout y'all?
4 comments:
Tilly, YES!! Exactly! Also, you never get to know them well enough that they ever actually get on your nerves...
I think of these "almosts" and "maybes" as mental breathers--safe places where I can rest, catch my breath, and gather strength. Interesting!
the older I get, the more people I remember (yeah, like I'm *ancient*, but hitting that point of mid-40's does give one an odd perspective)
But the ones I remember fondest were the ones I could never really have, but who managed to be friends---the married professional opera singer for one (a baritone--beautiful voice); my first ex-husband; my very first boyfriend. I would *seriously* like to forget my last ex-husband, but I think that one's going to take a very long time. I still have nightmares about him...
But I know that the guy I call Lucky Bastard will, once he's gone, be another fond memory...and I know that it has to do not just with his pretty boy good looks but also his unavailability.
As usual, the Simpsons has the answer.
"It's not the deed. It's not the memory. It's the anticipation!"
-Owen
www.bootsandsabers.com
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