Near-Sighted

I sat in the back seat of my father's white 1990 four-door Camry (the same car that he continued his obsessive-compulsive cleaning tendencies with, using a small stereo brush to annihilate any speck of dust that lingered on the pristine maroon dashboard) listening to my walkman. It was standard issue for all of us 9th graders - the gray one that always confused me with whether or not it was fast-forwarding or reversing, based on that auto-reverse button that sent my logic a bit topsy-turvy. Bonnie Raitt was crooning in the background, singing her soulful, sad melody, reminding me that I couldn't make him love me.

Bitch.

'Why not? Why couldn't I?', my naïve self wondered at the time. I could win a spelling bee! I could make the All-Star team for softball every year (save one dastardly mis-vote that nearly sent me over the edge)! I had kissed my first boy, gosh darnit, and I was ready to continue. If I didn't get to kiss Mike, well, then my life just had no meaning.

I didn't get to kiss Mike.

What I did get, however, was a few rides in a blue Firebird, some flirting during gym class, and a mix tape that he copied from his previous girlfriend, a fact I know with certainty yet still have no idea how I figured it out.

In love, we're near-sighted. We see only what's directly in front of us and miss the blurry future, concentrating too often on the here and now, and not the possibilities that lie ahead. That's normal, of course, especially in relationships, but if only the "you" of today could go back in time and tell the "you" of days past what a fool you were making of yourself, we'd save ourselves a lot of pain, and begin to really open our eyes.

I think I need corrective surgery on my love vision.

Thinking back, the "Mike" situation wasn't the only time I thought I had found Mr. Right - after all, I was only 14. I've gotten a little wiser, a bit older, and a lot more jaded in my mid (not late!) twenties, inherently longing for something I'm not sure I actually believe in. I watch our couple friends swoon and stroke and adore each other publicly while I drink my vodka soda with lime, stand next to my current swoon-ie and watch with both a tinge of jealousy and a prognosis of disingenuousness. When I see these outward gestures of love, I'm always a little surprised by the overtness, and it makes me want to look away. I feel like I'm intruding upon something so private, something so personal, that I should leave them to express it alone.

I'm not scared of love, mind you, just shy in its presence. I want to believe in their love never-ending, and yet I've seen it fail too many times before, seen even the happiest of families break apart and have experienced first-hand what happens when you let down your guard, transforming from an everyday citizen into the sappy, mushy, love creature prone to public hand-holding and whispers of sweet nothings. (What a sweet nothing is, incidentally, is beyond me.)

And yet, despite the nay-saying tendency that permeates my every cell and directly contradicts my cynical attitude of late, I've also seen it work. I've watched couples in their late eighties reach for each other's hands, a gesture second-nature after years and years of practice. I've seen people overcome even the hardest of challenges, the worst of tragedies, and live a long, happy life together. And when I see these things, I feel a softening in this shell I have, this shell I've erected to protect me from again going down the wrong path. Because as much as I can feign otherwise, and even in the most intimate of moments, I'm holding something back. It's protection. It's my armour against finding myself at the short (sighted) end of the stick.

Comments

[Peggasus]

Perhaps if you switched to vodka & tonics all would be well. It is by far the more refreshing drink.

Seriously though, I understand what you're saying, and I think you are wise to hold out for what you want. My only caveat would be that what you want in your twenties and what you want it your forties might be totally different (you think), but if you have chosen wisely, but not exactly in the preliminary stage, you may find yourself pretty much with what you want in the long run. Does that make sense? (I've been married 24 years.)

[Paris]

seeing your pics of NY made me miss it so very much....it made my heart hurt. but thanks for sharing! I love looking at your photos....