Would you ever be compelled to throw yourself in front of a bus to keep your betrothed from getting killed?
Would it kill you to loose them forever? Would you contemplate the noose, only hoping to join them in the afterlife?
What if they were injured, maimed or killed? Would you seek justice by your own hand?
Have you ever felt this way?
Can it be real?
Who knows.
I mean, let’s be honest, how many times have you thought that you had found this person? You thought you had found that Prince Charming, the Clarence to your Alabama?
If you don’t get that reference, google it and educate yourself with the cinematic masterpiece that is, True Romance.
Because it’s that Love Story that we all want. We don’t want Sid and Nancy, we don’t want Romeo and Juliet. Those stories don’t have happy endings. The poor bastards all end up dead.
We want heroic gunslinging and over the top gestures that show how much another person gives a shit about our measly lives.
Sounds dramatic?
Not really. Bottom line, it’s the truth. It’s a concept everybody feels, even the sociopath; deep down.
“I am human and I need to Be Loved.”
Also a reference that needs to be googled if not understood, for it’s one of the best lyrical compositions ever written, describing the desire to be loved and just not getting it. The guts of how we really feel, skin removed, exposed.
We want someone to pull us out of the shadows and say, “Hey, Creep, I love you. I’d die for You and You’re so Cool.”
Who just tied all of the above references into one line above? This girl.
But one of my favorite quotes on the subject of love and true romance would have to be the following. Because it’s the most god damned accurate one I’ve ever come across.
“We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”
― Dr. Seuss
My friend reminded me of this little gem on Christmas over dinner. She was describing what her and her husband have.
And who wouldn’t want that? I think you’d have to be a robot, an asshole or dead. Or maybe all three, a dead asshole robot?
Now shit’s getting weird in a no-point kind of way.
Anyway..
I could stop here and just leave it as is, happy ending… But as we all know,fiends…how often does that really happen?
Too many times, we meet someone and want so hard to jam them into the mould of “The Prince” when really, they’re just a Pauper. One with bad habits and only the desire to get in your pants for a little while. Or maybe he is a niceguy, but not the guy. And you realize this, two kids and a house later. Then what? What now?
Horse shit. That’s what.
Initial warm fuzzy feelings are great, hold onto those. Keep that shit close. Enjoy it. But don’t put unrealistic expectations on somebody.
Don’t make a Joe somebody who doesn’t know your full name into The One. He’s not and why make yourself look like an asshole to your friends, claiming that Joe, (#37 in your line of the Ones) is, The One… Save yourself the embarrassment. Wait it out.
GET FUCKING HONEST.
Just because you want him to be; doesn’t mean he is.
(And all this him shit, can be reversed to her, of course…)
My Grandmother used to tell me that there was a Jack for every Jill. She told me this when I was pouting, sitting on her living room floor, bitching about how nobody would take me to the school dance. None of the boys at the preppy school liked my black makeup, dog collar or my band t’s.
I’ve never forgotten about that.
Granted I’ve tried to jam plenty of Joe’s into Jack’s spot, (that’s why I can be so brutal on the subject) and every time; it’s failed. Hell, some of them even seemed to be Jack, until of course, their true colors bled through; months later to reveal a nasty looking Joe.
Then, whether I thought they were a sack of shit or vice versa, one of us would see the holes that had been poked into our created “happiness”, and Blamo. Done.
One more down, does there really have to be more to go?
Maybe I should be a hermit?
No…
It’s all about time, (fate?), not rushing into shit, not attaching labels that don’t belong, and just seeing how it goes.
If you have found your Clarence or Alabama, you most likely won’t have to do much thinking.
Thinking about the other person that is. Your own insecurities of not being good enough will rise to the top. Bubble over and threaten to make a pretty little mess all over the floor.
This can fuck shit up as well. It is an indicator that this may be the one, for you. That there are no doubts in jamming them into the mould. They’re standing in it. Fitting like Cindy’s slipper.
This is scary. What if you fucking blow it???
Well, acting like that, all crazy worried and shit; consider it blown.
The best we can do is just chill out. Not force people into moulds they don’t fit into. Wipe expectations of finding “The One” on every date you go on, just see.
If it is, you’ll know. And not right away, but soon enough.
Wait for your Weird.
Because in this long march toward death, finding our compatible weirdo is really all we can hope for. So don’t push it and wait for the right one.
No more dragging beaten horses behind you, thinking they’re ideal partners.
Everything rotten starts to stink after a few days.
Wait it out. Jack may not be here now, but bets are you don’t die alone. Patience, Pollyanna.
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