I always seem to want what I can't have. But what I do have--even if I really wanted it for a long time--isn't nearly so great as I thought it would be.
Take my new red handbag, for example. It was beautiful in the store, but it's not quite so fabulous now that I actually own it. I was obsessed with that bag for a month before I bought it. Couldn't stop thinking about it. I would stop by the store and gaze longingly at the glass case, imagining the fun I could have with it on my arm. Turns out my life with that handbag is no more exciting than it was before.
Boys are kind of the same way for me. I can chase after one for months on end, enjoying the thrill of him getting closer and closer, anticipating the moment when I'll be able to stop running, but when I finally catch up and he's within my grasp, I start to freak out a little. Will he be as great as I've made him out to be in mind? Will he understand my neurosis and need for multiple, expensive handbags? Nice restaurants? Alone time in the bathtub?
My happy ending seems to be in sight, but is it really what I want? Or am I destined to die alone, because no man will ever be the perfect blend of smart conversationalist, man's man and good provider?
Yeah, my standards are a impossibly high, but every once in awhile, you find someone who's not only gainfully employed and enjoys deer camp, he can actually talk intelligently about the economy and the national debt. Perhaps he is indeed Mr. Perfect.
Or maybe not. Either way, I plan to keep chasing.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment