My brain tells me that I should be writing something now, before I go back outside to cavort with the stobors. Of course my brain has no idea what I should write, so I guess it's up to the rest of me. My fingers, perhaps, because my heart is all tapped-out, and my dick isn't much for words. It's more of an action dick.
I'm not really sure when it was that I became wise. Sometime over the last few years, I think. It's like I stopped getting birthday presents and started gaining wisdom. Or at least a very good imitation of wisdom. Good enough to fool most people, including my lovely self a lot of the time.
I found myself today in the most unlikely of conversations, giving the most unlikely of advice. Unlikely, that is, unless you actually know me, and not many people do. Lots of people think that they know me, but they're wrong. I'm a better person than many people give me credit for, and I'm a worse person that many people suspect. I'm a person, is I guess what I'm saying. If I were 100% good I'd be some kind of supreme being, and if I were 100% flawed I'd be a dipshit, but I'm somewhere in the middle, just like almost everyone else.
Anyway, today I found myself in a conversation about relationships. Because I'm some kind of expert, I guess. It's like quitting smoking; I've done it a million times it's so easy. Well, I haven't quite had a million relationships, but I've had my share. So maybe that makes me wise in a way. I dunno.
I'll paraphrase from today's conversation, in which I pretended to be wise:
Every new relationship seems perfect. But then it turns out that everything isn't quite perfect, and people get disappointed and they start to question the entire relationship.This is all common sense, right?
Every relationship in history has followed the same pattern. Sometimes they last beyond that initial disillusionment, and sometimes they don't.
I think back to the relationships that I've had. Not all that many, really, and except for the ones that were doomed from the start, they've all followed that pattern. Not many have made it passed that first round of disillusionment, but the ones that have, the ones that have lasted have all been something really special to me. They're still really special to me.
I'm in one of those relationships right now, and even though I know that almost everyone on Earth would say that I'm in no such thing, I will say without hesitation that almost everyone on Earth is wrong. We are in a relationship, and we've made it passed that first disappointment, and the second and the third, and the fourth.
But we're still here, in one widely varying form or another, we're still here.
Doesn't that mean something? Shouldn't that mean something?
Isn't this supposed to be the goal?
Because, as I said today in my unlikely conversation, Perfection doesn't exist, so shouldn't a relationship be more concerned with surviving imperfection than with seeking perfection?
Am I the only person who sees this?