Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Wednesday Ramblings

A while back I began a post with the definition of insanity.

in·san·i·ty: Repeatedly doing the exact same thing the exact same way and fully expecting a different result.

I left that little niblet of wisdom more for myself than anything and, of course, I chose to ignore it.  I have allowed someone back in my life that I booted out a couple years ago.  I'm pretty sure this was not a good idea and it will end the same way it always ends, but there is some glitch in my brain that keeps letting them come back.  I'm pretty sure it's the Mad Cow. 
Or maybe love.  
It's a funny thing .. love. Isn't it? 
I used to read romance novels as a teenager and young adult. There was always some tragedy first, then of course the fabulous hunk of a man with rippling muscles and perfect hair blowing in the breeze comes along to save the day, sweeps the fragile female off her feet, they fall madly in love, followed by a perfect ending and happily ever after.

What a crock.

Love is not all puppies and roses all the time.  It cannot be boxed up all nice and neat and stored tidily on a shelf like a so called "love story."  Love is messy, disorganized and at times painful.  It leaves its socks all over the place and dirty handprints on the walls.  It never takes its shoes off before tromping through the house, and it is indecisive.  It says the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time .. a lot of the time.. and has the nerve to look shocked when it realizes that its target is angry at its insensitive comments. It is a hug at the exact right time, the mere touch of a hand that makes everything seem better if even for just a moment. 
Love is not even close to being perfect, it is a jumble of emotions, the highest highs and lowest lows, from fantasizing the perfect honeymoon to seriously pondering murder.  It is joy and pain and security, safety and hope and tears, worry, irritation, unbelievable fury and perfect happiness, and forgiveness all wrinkled up and tied in knots, like the ball of clothes in the bottom of Pookie's closet.  It is unconditional, constant, and can weather any storm.  It remains even when all signs say it shouldn't.  It is the knowledge that that bumbling ogre means well and will try to make up for being an insensitive jerk when he realizes that's exactly what he's done.
It is what it is.  
They never say that in romance novels, do they?  The hero and heroine ride off into the sunset to live out their lives in perfect bliss.  It never mentions that later on the princess has gained a lot of weight and has a map of stretch marks across her tummy that looks like a US Interstate map, and she can be a bit of a shrew for a week out of every month, or that the prince has gained a beer gut and has gas potent enough to fuel the cars of an entire city, or that the princess could never lose him because all you have to do is follow the trail of muddy footprints and dirty clothes that he's left in his wake.  There is never a sequel about how the bills have piled up and the prince and princess are living in a 2 bedroom walkup with 4 kids and a dog, the prince has been laid off, the princess is working 3 jobs and they are exhausted all the time. 
No, all romance novels have happily ever after endings ... setting up young girls for real disappointment in the future when they find out that there is no 'perfect man' out there.  
There are good men.  There are wonderful, sensitive, honorable men out there.  They are mostly gay, but they are out there!
Seriously, there are perfectly fine hetero men out there too .. but at least 99% of them will not ever live up to the sexy beasts protrayed in the pages of romance novels .. those men do not exist outside the pages of the novel or the movies.  You ladies that are turning down real men in your search for the elusive Fabio-types ... you do a disservice to the good men of the world. 
Anyway, I wasn't aiming to get up on my little soap box today.  I guess what I'm trying to say, the conclusion that I've come to, and the reason I've let this person back into my life, is that love stories .. real love stories .. are messy and unpredictable and sometimes can be highly irritating .. and they do not have happy endings.
Because, no matter how many times you try to close the book, real love stories do not end.


Irish Gumbo said...

Bravo, m'lady!

You nailed it. I know this because I've lived it, the male side.

Hats off to you (bowing)

Paula said...

You rock Sis.. once again you said it so well.