Caterwauling

Midnight on the Intracoastal

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn

“My, my, my it’s a beautiful world
I like driving in my car
Roll the top down, sometimes i travel quite far
Travel to the ocean and stare up at the stars
i like driving in my car.”

— Colin Hay, “Beautiful World”

(Serious hat-tip to Chris for turning me on to this song!)

As far as weekends go, this one has been mostly top-notch. Friday was exquisite, yesterday brought celebrating a dear friend’s birthday … in person! And today, well, I think I came close to getting a date.

So … win?

There’s this cute guy at church. I mean, my type. What is my type? Well, breathing, for starters. We could end the list there but luckily, I don’t have to. Jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes. Looks good, smells good … yeah, that’s about all I’ve gotten so far, but in my world, he’s a keeper so far. 🙂

Anyway, I’ll save today’s story for another day, but I’ve already written it off and filed it under, “The three of us would be SO HAPPY together. Run while you can!”

I’ve all but given up on happily ever after, since my life is a package deal.

It’s not all because of the over-extended hosueguest. I admit, she’s an easy scapegoat — an almost-willing target for my frustrations that I can’t direct anywhere else.

I *should* be like, hey, I’m a hot commodity and if you want a piece of this, Mom’s part of the deal.

But I have enough “quirks” (neuroses and other shortcomings) that could be deal-breakers enough on their own. No matter how equally “quirky” anyone is whom I meet, I can’t expect anyone to be accepting of ALL the baggage I bring.

But. …

If just for a moment, please let me revel in the boy with the magnificent blue eyes. in particular, how my entire being is consumed with — I dunno — something when he is near.

That could be someone special right there. Or, not. Whichever. 😉 But I can’t remember the last time I got all hot and bothered just by standing next to someone.

And whether it’s true or not, I’d like to believe that he (or whomever) would have more reasons to stay than to run away. But do I really need to put myself through the wringer just to ultimately endure the inevitable?

Or am I so disillusioned after being disappointed by so many, that I underestimate him — and, for that matter, perhaps I’ve pre-emptively written off so many more, and for nothing?

“And still this emptiness persists
Perhaps this is as good as it gets
When you’ve given up the drink
And those nasty cigarettes
Now I leave the party early, at least with no regrets
I watch the sun as it comes up, I watch it as it sets
Yeah, this is as good as it gets.”

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 24th, 2010 at 4:46 PM and is filed under Existential Meanderings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.