20 December 2003
You're never too old to yearn
Acidman, damn his hide, has come up with yet another post that provokes too much thought. "What makes the RIGHT ONE?" he asks, and takes a couple of stabs at it:
How do you know when you meet the RIGHT ONE? Beats me. Maybe it's someone who likes to eat the same food that you like, drink the same wine that you like and go to the same places that you like. Maybe it's someone who doesn't like ANY of that shit but purely enjoys being with YOU because it's a different experience.
You don't have to mesh like a set of gears. Sparks are good sometimes.
Maybe it's someone who disagrees with every opinion you hold, but respects your ability to argue those opinions. Maybe it's someone who doesn't believe that you are as attractive as Fabio, but still wants to sleep with YOU at night. Maybe it's someone who accepts all your flaws and loves [you] FOR them, instead of in spite of them.
I'd avoid the gears comparison: my synchros are shot.
The problem I have with the answer is basically the problem I have with the question: I don't actually believe that there actually exists any sort of one-to-one correspondence, or even a close approximation. "Love is all around," said the Troggs, but that doesn't mean it's evenly distributed; some people, for whatever reason, find that their cups runneth over, while others sigh and shake the coal dust out of their stockings.
This isn't, however, anything like an argument for blowing off the RIGHT ONE in favor of something RIGHT NOW; while I can almost barely work up some sort of rationalization for a quickie affair, I would hate to think that it's the best I could do. Especially if it is.
What I'd really like to do is to proclaim that Biology Is Destiny, that I've done my part already by passing on the family DNA to the next generation, and that I don't have to think about such things anymore. If I could say that with a straight face but never mind, it's not going to happen. What is going to happen is that I will continue to encounter, on a not-especially-regular basis, women I can only dream about, and then not dream about them. At this level, the brain and the heart work together on exactly one thing: self-preservation.