At 17, I had a pretty good idea of what my love life would look like at 25. After having spent my early 20s dating and casting aside a litany of handsome and variously successful men, I would, by 25, have met my Super Awesome Live-In Boyfriend. We would have a sweet apartment in the city, fulfilling and well-paying jobs, and a host of extremely good-looking friends. Our dog would have an ironic name like Snoop or P. Doggy and when we would take him for walks in the local park, neighbors would smile and wave enthusiastically. We would spend most evenings cooking sexy meals together during which we'd engage in a lot of sensual vegetable chopping and hysterical laughing over minor culinary mishaps.
Every couple of months we would take epic trips to places like Machu Picchu where we would befriend the natives and take pictures of each other doing hilarious and awesome things. Later, we'd show these pictures to our really good-looking friends who would remind us that we are, in fact, the coolest couple in the world and they wish they had taken a llama ride through the jungle with a Peruvian drug cartel. At 30, after 5 years of continuous adventure, we would be married on a Grecian Isle and divide our time as newlyweds between our sweet apartment in the city and our renovated Highland Castle. Our children would frolic in the heather and grow up to do something about all the problems.
It hasn't yet come true and is, I guess, a bit unrealistic. But the general gist of my vision of love hasn't changed much. And, despite all evidence to the contrary, I'm confident a large percentage of it is in my future. How could I possibly be that optimistic? I don't know. Probably because I'm kind of an idiot when it comes to love. Yes, love makes fools of us all at one time or another, but truly, I suspect I'm in at least the 80th percentile for romantic idiocy. I'm not complaining, though. I've achieved a nice balance. For example, I've been kissed in the Piazza San Marco on a summer night. Totally awesome. But I've also been rejected at not one but two of my own Christmas parties. Ouch. The point is, I've come out about even.
Is that my point? I'll be honest, I'm not even sure what this post is about yet. It definitely doesn't have anything to to with armchair travel. I was originally intending to tie it in with some kind of variation on a theme of either "traditions of love around the world" or "showing your love by giving to charity this Valentines Day." Best laid plans. In lieu of that, I'll provide you with this link I found when I Googled "Fun Facts About Love." Clearly, a lot of work goes into this blog.
Anyway, my favorites are numbers 11 and 20.
Special shout-out to Molly, Peyman, Mark, and Suna for being excellent Valentines.
1 comment:
This was hilarious. I'm not laughing at pain, I'm laughing with pain.
Also, my word to verify that I was a human so I was allowed to post this comment was 'catiou' which sounds like either the first hybrid cat and caribou OR a South American cuisine.
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