Chasing Windmills

Here in the Real World

Disclaimer: After a slow week wherein the idealistic romantic has exhibited a sample of his poems, it is time for him to recess to that dark dank chamber and let Mr. Hyde, the cynic or as I like to call him, the realist, come out and play. Let's begin...and let the reader beware.

It has been a rather slow and bleak week. The kind that rolls around every cold January. That time when there is not much desire hanging in air and you are content to stay indoors. It was an uneventful week as I prepared for trials that did not take place. As I sit here writing this entry with my trusty cell phone next to me, I have a realization, here it is the 22nd. My phone log indicates that my phone has not rang since 3:19 on Sunday the 16th. It rang twice that day, as both my sisters called to wish me a belated happy birthday. Here it is, a week a later and I still have not heard from my 2 friends of over 20 yrs. Apparently, they haven't even remebered that they forgot. On top of that, still no word from "her".

As it is January, the whole aspect of introspection creeps into the mind like the "Ghost of Christmas Past" and I realize that like an amnesia victim, for all intents and purposes I do not have a past. I recall the first time I learned one of life's little lessons...It was 1981 and I was six. I told the object of my affection that I thought she was beautiful. Her reply, "I think you are ugly." I remember standing there shocked and heartbroken, thinking to myself that is not what you are supposed to say. You're supposed to say, "thank you" and "I think you're cute". At least, that is how Hollywood would have written it.

It was all uphill from there. Apparently, there is an evolution to rejection. I have had the aforementioned insults, the laundry list of attributes of how great I am but she doesn't feel that way speech, to the modern day approach of having my very existence denied. As we continue that this path of introspection, I think of one of my friends. I have known him for about six years. In that six years, he has had five girlfriends (not at the same time mind you). Each lasting approximately a year. Five in six years. I have had zero in thirty years. I have never been able to introduce anyone as "my girlfriend". In fact, it took 29 years for me to require two hands to count up the individual dates I have been on. Actually, there is an asterisk by one of them. I consider it a date, she would say we were just friends hanging out, but since I am the author, I say it is a date. And with the exception of her, all the others were blind dates (which is a whole topic which I will save for another day). The worse part of it is certain people give me a hard time about, thinking it is a joke. Now while I have a great sense of humor, they don't realize that I don't find this very amusing and it actually pisses me off when they do this.

Looking at my friend's dating history, I realize I didn't expect to find my soulmate at 6 years old. But it would have been nice to be young and in love. To have what everyone else takes for granted:
holding hands at the skating rink, late dinners after football games, the "I'll break every bone in your body" talk with someone's dad, weekends at the lake, prom, sororiety socials, spring break. It would have been nice to have these memories. I don't know what it is like to feel her hair brush against my cheek, her breath on my neck, her heartbeat next to mine. As I was recently telling someone, the reason I am able to write all these poems is I have the time. Guys in relationships generally don't do it because they are too busy being in love, actually spending time with their better half.

I have always said that I would never get married. Everybody has always misinterpreted that to mean that I didn't want to get married. They inferred that I like every other guy didn't want to give up that swinging devil may care bachelor life-style. On the contrary, I don't think any man on earth wanted to be married more than I. I longed for the day of coming home from work to the house with the white picket fence, the pitter-patter of little feet, the echoes of "Daddy's home". I have glanced down at my left ring finger imagining what it must feel like. I said I would never get married as a defense mechaism because if I had said I want to but no one is ever going to want to marry me (hell no one even wants to date me). I probably would have been sent to therapy. They would think I have some psychological personality disorder when the truth is I am right. It doesn't help matters when you are the son of Casanova. A man who has convinced 4 women to say "I do", and his son can't even get 1 to say "I don't".

At this point, I feel the need to point out one positive. There was this one time (and no it wasn't at band camp, although maybe I should have gone there) I did have a glimmer of hope...
I was 26, a year out of law school. I met her and was interested and she was interested as well. We flirted around a bit, but that was as far it went. Why ? Because I looked at the situation from a woman's point of view. Here I am a 26 year old guy living with his parents, has 2 college degrees and no steady job or money. A date would have literally been McDonalds, Blockbuster, and sitting on the floor of my bedroom in my parents house. What woman could resist that ?Before, I landed a decent job (out of town by the way) and could stand on my own two feet, she went back to school and her family moved away. So, that was the pinnacle of my social life. One piqued interest in thirty years. Which brings us up to date and two concerns ? First, what woman is dying to meet a thirty year old who has never had a relationship. I mean if that is not a major red flag, I don't know what is. Secondly, since there has been no experience, no testing ground to work out the kinks, there is a higly over-exaggerated expectation on my part. When you date as a teenager, etc. you realize the way things are and learn to accept them and ease into them. But after 30 years of hoping, wishing, and praying, no one can live up to the ideals you have set. So as Mr. Jackson sings, "sometimes the boy don't get the girl here in the real world."

posted by Michael @ 11:55 AM