Anyone who knows me, is aware that I have had a lot of boyfriends since I was old enough to date. Some might even call me boy crazy. I am secure in admitting these things because I am very aware of who I am. It is part of my personality that I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, or rather, tattooed on my naked arm. I recently had a female "friend" make fun of my hopeless romantic alter-ego. I have been guilty of wishing aloud that each new beau is The One. She pointed this out to me in front of audience (we all know people who do their best work this way) with a decisive sneer in her tone. Although cruel, her point did make me think about the nature of love and the all-important quest for the Holy Grail of partnerships: the nacho to my cheese, the peanut butter to my jelly, the sugar to my coffee....that person who will still be with me when my idea of sexy is elastic-waist pants and flannel nightgowns.
I am ok with the cruel jokes at my expense. Hoping that each new boyfriend is The One keeps me walking through every day with hope. I never want to be the hollow-eyed cynic who has lost all optimism. A good friend once told me that I'll just keep getting it wrong until I get it right. And when I do, I won't feel bad about being just a little bit smug;)And maybe this one is The One...
1 comment:
I just read your every entry and I empathized at your break-ups, cried over Ferdinand, googled Zips, marveled at your many-mile moves, laughed aloud about Country Mouse, and nodded in agreement about going back to school. You are a clever communicator, a gifted writer, and a beautiful woman. I've admired your confident, bouncy walk; your European style of dress; and your drive in class (meeting the guest speakers for coffee afterward!), and now, having read your blog, I like you all the more.
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