leftunspoken's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Nostalgia There's a movie quote I love. Something along the lines of: "My father used to say that life doesn't always turn out the way you plan. I just never knew he was talking about MY life." I feel like that a lot. I got my palm read once. Not at a cheesy carnival; though really I've always been a big fan of cheesy carnivals. No, it was by the brother of a girl I worked with at my last job. We're talking like a million years ago. Anyway he said that the great love of my life would be someone who left and then returned to me. Now I don't believe in that stuff; hooey - all of it. But the more life has gone on, the stronger the pattern appears. Only he was wrong about the "great love" part and he should have pluralized. I've never, ever, ever dated a man for any length of time who didn't come back at least once. Most of them come back repeatedly. So that my life has no neat and tidy endings. Closure is a foreign concept. There are just these little windows that open into my life at random admitting men with whom I've shared time at some point or another, resulting in varying degrees of alarm, aversion, or apathy. Mostly they come offering sweet talk or much needed fun, or begging for a shoulder to cry on. My present circumstances and their past offenses dictate my response. Once in a great while they bring explanations for past behavior and peace offerings. Those are nice I suppose. Soothing. Satisfy my need to KNOW, my need to understand the whys of all that is. That's me. Always wanting to see the purpose in things. It's the only way I can stay sane and optimistic in a world that is neither. I'm sure you already see where this is going...you're smart duckies. One of them came back last night. (An unimportant one from early last year.) Offering apologies and explanations for odd behavior and ascribing to me every good and perfect quality possessed by any heavenly angel. *shaking head* Silly, boy. I responded. Forgiveness for the bad behavior, thanks for the good character involved in the giving of this gift, and protests to his distorted memory of me. I'm far from beautiful, far from exactly what you wanted, and sorry Precious, far from caring that you want to return. You see you're not one of the ones I want back. But thank you, anyway. Just when I conclude all men aren't worth the trouble they cause, one of you reappears and tidies the bull-in-a-china-shop mess he created in my head or heart. Well done, dear. Next please... 3:53 p.m. - April 22, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||