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2001-10-13 | 2:56 p.m.

Felt a little tickle in my throat this morning while doing laundry. Every time I coughed, a little voice in the back of my head would scream anthrax!

Which reminds me of something my friend Beowulf used to say when we were young and foolish. He'd say, You know that little voice in the back of your head that right now is saying, 'What little voice?'

I hadn't thought of that in years. Though at the time, I'm sure I thought I would remember it forever.

People will put up with a lot of B.S. to hang around with a truly funny person. And with Beowulf, we certainly did. The man was probably the biggest con artist I ever met. He had what you might call a problem with boundaries. I think his parents just didn't raise him right, if you want to know the truth. He took a long time to grow up, but now that he's pushing 40, I think he's almost done. He still hasn't gotten his head on straight about women, though. He finds these terrific women, sticks with them for a while, and then when they want him to commit, he casts them off as if they were a renewable resource. And for some men, I suppose they are, but Beowulf? I just don't see it.

That's one thing I intend to teach my kids. Don't ever date someone who's had more than 5 or 6 long-term (adult) relationships expecting them to settle down with you. Because the odds are you'll be disappointed. (I even exaggerated that figure so as not to seem reactionary---I think the real figure is closer to four. If you're number 5, you might as well be number 55. Of course serial monogamists do settle down all the time, with charming and admirable results, but I'm speaking statistically here, not anecdotally. (That I was doing earlier, in re: Beowulf.)

Of course, if you're chewing through number 6 or 7 yourself, then by all means chase 'em down and rope 'em. That other advice was really for the jeune filles en fleur.

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