You'd think by my age I'd have the whole romance thing sorted out, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you? Forty four, old enough to know better, right? I understand less now than I did as a teenager, and I knew nothing then.
I recently realised that I read too many old novels as a teenager. They gave me foolish notions about honour, respect, and the idea that if both parties feel the same way they will work it out, somehow. I guess I've always expected the same honour and respect in return, expectation makes fools of us all.
One day I'll meet a girl who cares enough to be patient with my stupidity, who will employ simple words to tell me what I'm doing wrong, who will recognise what I bring to her, faithfulness, honesty, authenticity. Or perhaps I won't? Perhaps I am living in a past era when those things mattered?
I'm not sure if I understand too little or understand too much? There is a fair chance my one true natural talent, to see through human bullshit, doesn't serve me well. Love takes a certain amount of blindness. Just as I can't ignore annoying background music in restaurants so I can't ignore crap excuses and lies of omission. Perhaps I expect too much?
As a teenager I thought I'd have it all sorted by now. Instead I find myself asking more questions than I have answers for.