What if… I never settle down because I am constantly in search of “the one”? This mystical un-catchable unicorn of a woman that’s always just on the horizon? And “The One” was actually that girl five girls ago, but I passed on her because I kept thinking “The One” is still just around the bend?
What if… I’ve been with too many girls with nice bodies, and dated too many girls with nice personalities, that I am forever searching for some impossible cross-pollinated hybrid of the two? Like hotness is the Y axis and not being a crazy bitch is the X axis, and what if what I’m looking for is some impossible plot point where X and Y will never meet?
What if… I’ve already spent too much time at the buffet of dating, that I can never go back to just being with one woman again? Like I was a one woman guy for nine years, but I just feel so flaky now that I’m”dating”. Every relationship has an escape hatch and a fire axe built in, just in case the whole thing goes up in flames.
On my rare days off, I’ve already got plans and backup plans lined up. Sometimes I’m even texting girls the exact same message because I know someone is going to disappear or bail, and heaven forbid I spend and evening to myself in quiet contemplation. Because Voldemort had the right idea, to never invest too much of yourself in any one place. Because nobody is ever vulnerable at my age. We’re all bristles and scars, and every inch of intimacy is conditional and met with so many safeguards. Because hearts don’t get stolen anymore… they get usurped through wars of attrition.
I’m actually an advocate of arranged marriages. Because, dating is hard, and dating is stupid. Like the old adage, “there are plenty of fish in the sea”; it is absolutely true. What they fail to mention, is the vast majority of those fish are inedible, poisonous, predators, have daddy issues, or they live in some deep dark pressurized water that only Ed Harris can reach while breathing pink juice (haha I hope someone catches this reference) Most of the fish in the sea, are not the fish you want.
So maybe it would be cool if everyone started out with one good fish that their parents picked out specifically for them. I trust my parents. Every girl I ever brought home that they weren’t 100% on, turned out to be a special form of messed up eventually. Which in turn, messed me up exponentially. Because my parents could see beyond the low cut bodices and mini-skirts; they could see long term and down the line. And if I just listened to them, I’d have been just fine. Because my parents were the ones making me eat broccoli instead of skittles, making me go to college instead of trying to tour with my band in a van on an Island. Haha yeah an Island. They always had the right idea.
Maybe it would be better if people married based on family approval and social-economic comparability, rather than trying to blindly rush into the ocean with a scoop net and genitals swollen full of hormones hoping to find “the one” by dangling their bits and flailing aimlessly in the water. Because that’s what it feels like I’m doing sometimes. And the sand and salt is starting to chafe in the most uncomfortable of places.
And maybe people wouldn’t be so quick to discard their partners, knowing they only get one.
Lockboxes and hand picked fish. It’s five am. Writing books is hard. I’m going to sleep.
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