baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Duh! and Double Duh! This is the first sentence to an AP story I read today about relationships: The trick to finding a perfect mate may not be in the search...but in your mind. Hmmmm...sounds like a lyric to bad pop jam: The trick (yeah, baby!) to finding the perfect mate (uhhh! uhhh! uhhh!) may not be in the search (give it up! give it up!) but in youuuuuuuuuurrrrr.... MIND (go baby, go baby, go baby, go baby!) Seems that it took some really smart scientists interviewing over 200 couples to figure out that "those who believe that relationships grow over time are less troubled by their partner's shortcomings." Well, excuse me, but NO FUCKING SHIT. __________________________________________________________ And since, I'm on the subject of shit, I'd like to share one particularly stinky period of my life with Diaryland. In over ten years that I have been blessed with girl-unit, I have met one woman, only one, that I have allowed myself to get too close to. In many ways, she was a mirror-image of Girl-Unit�with just enough differences to wash her presence with an exciting, undiscovered hue that colored my brain for a brief shattered period of my life. Her presence in my life wasn't exactly a secret. People knew her-they just didn't know about her-or rather-they didn't know about the little romantic tap dance we indulged in every time we were together. I sure could have used diaryland back then. I had no place to vent the steam this woman brought into my life-I was too ashamed to tell my few friends about her, and too scared to write lyrics about it fearing that Girl-Unit, who is no dumb shit in matters of romance, would discern the true meaning hiding behind the melody. Nothing ever happened between this mirror-image and I. Nothing physical anyway-outside of an extremely brief goodbye hug. But, I still feel a bit of guilt about this. I'm not sure where the line separating commitment and betrayal is drawn-but I suspect that it's crossed long before the kiss or the sex. In my case, it may have been crossed long before the goodbye hug. It's a line I'm all too aware of. And now, years after I walked away from that goodbye hug, I know that there is no way I'll ever put myself through that hell ever again. Love is too precious, too rare, to wash over with any hue-no matter how undiscovered it is. ___________________________________________________________ Speaking of precious and rare, the upcoming weekend will not be spent in the studio-and I'd like to do something wonderful for the wonderous woman who shares the peaks and valleys of my days with me. I'm a little dry of ideas-she doesn't want to go to Disneyland, nor is she particularly interested in the tried and true clich�s of romance (roses, dinner, handcuffs)-so I'm lost in thought. Luckily, it's only Thursday-leaving more than a full day for me to come up with something brilliant for a brilliant lady. Wish me luck. 4:25 p.m. - 2001-06-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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